Those Were the Weeks that Were…

They never said it was going to be easy.  My first twelve weeks studying Journalism at Edinburgh Napier University have been an up and down, topsy-turvy, loop-de-loop plane crash of essays, emotions and seemingly endless amounts of time spent in front of this laptop.

The A-Team left to right: Robert/Hannibal Smith, Me/"Howlin' Mad" Murdock, er...Mikey, Hopee/B.A. Baracus, and Robyn a.k.a Face

My first tentative steps into university life have been somewhat marred by homesickness, resulting in every weekend up to this point been spent travelling down to Lockerbie on the train, seeing friends, family and the A-Team (you know who you are!), and then traipsing back to the station to be whisked back up to the capital and my little box of thoughts where i eat, sleep and dream of home.

That’s not to say that I’ve resented every minute of it, though sometimes it might sound like I have.  Over the past couple of months, as part of the course, I’ve been pushed to interview members of the public completely at random, I’ve visited the Scottish parliament and written a report on what I saw and I’ve written and laid out a magazine article for bmi’s Voyager magazine.  I doubt I would’ve had a chance to do all this if I hadn’t come to Edinburgh Napier University.

The first article I wrote for MMR1, the Scottish Parliament report, was fairly timid compared to what was to come.  After being put through all the mandatory security checks at the door (they’re pretty much the same as the ones you get at the airport) we were directed towards a flight of stairs with windows on all sides.  This took me back to times when I’d been climbing the stairs to the flume ride at Dumfries swimming pool, though what was waiting at the top would prove to be a damn site less exciting and, surprisingly, much more uncomfortable.

Upon reaching the top we were ushered through into the vast debating chamber, a quiet room with an array of fixed, wooden seats.  We were told to sit in some of the seats near the back, the second row before the huge window which gave a slightly obscured view of the street below, crammed in behind a wooden board, which didn’t appear to serve any purpose other than to give me pins and needles.

I found it hard to take concise notes on the debate which was going on below due to the two arrogant Englishmen behind us who joked and guffawed through the first hour or so, before they got up and left.  After this, I managed to get enough to write my article, but if they hadn’t left when they did, I may have just scrapped what little notes I’d have collected up to then and written a piece on why we need Scottish independence now!

Interviewing a complete stranger in Prince’s Street Gardens was a much more intimidating task.  I had written down some fairly broad questions I could ask whichever wanderer I would choose to prey upon in order to feed my journalistic hunger, but I really had no idea what direction the interview would go in.

In the end, I chose a the friendliest-looking person I could find – a chap sitting alone on one of the benches, enjoying the atmosphere in the end-of-summer sunset.  I figured, if nothing else, he would enjoy the company.

After working up the courage to speak to the solitary man, I approached him with more than a little trepidation.  His face quickly shifted from an “Oh no, here comes a bloody teenager to mug me” look to a “Hooray, someone who actually wants to hear what I’ve got to say” smile.  He was very happy to sit and recount the main points of his life to me, and it turned out to be an interesting little story.  It’s fascinating what you can find behind the faces of what we normally call “ordinary people”.

When charged with writing an article on a certain aspect of Edinburgh for “Voyager”, bmi’s in-flight magazine, I decided this would be a good opportunity to explore the city and do a spot of sightseeing myself.

The Sign for the Writers Museum

I had originally thought it would be a good idea to do the article on films set in Edinburgh, however I soon changed this to historical sites linked to famous books after further research revealed that many of the films set in the city were, in fact, shot mainly in Glasgow.  This turned out to be a much wider subject then the first one and I found it very interesting to write about.

For the magazine spread, we were to take photographs as well as write the article and a sidebar to go along with it.  This gave me an opportunity to get to know my way around Edinburgh, so, on a sunny Monday afternoon after my lectures had finished, I began my tour of Edinburgh’s famous literary sites on bicycle.

I visited the Elephant House and the National Library of Scotland before heading off to the Royal Mile.  From here, I found myself walking along Lady Stair’s close, which opens on to Makar’s court, and the Writer’s Museum.

A tall, narrow building, the museum is one of the city’s backstreet gems, with detailed exhibits on Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott and Robert Louis Stevenson.  I found myself captivated by the quietness of the place, right up until the point when I walked into one of the rooms and an invisible voice spoke to me.

My mind somehow empty of rational thought, I shouted an expletive, probably louder than I should have in such a silent place, and bolted for the exit.  It wasn’t until I got outside into the crisp autumn sunset that I composed myself and decided it must’ve (hopefully!) been a recorded message designed to teach rather than terrify.

The 2009 Ferrari California which drew up as I fled the horrors of the Writer's Museum

It was a good thing I escaped the horrors of the Writer’s Museum when I did, for if I hadn’t, I would never have seen a brand spanking new, blood-red Ferrari California draw up to the kerb on the Royal Mile and then gaze in awe as the driver pressed the button which unfurled the car’s metal folding roof out of the rear clamshell.

And so, now, as my time on Multimedia Reporting 1 comes to a close, I find myself blogging about my experiences over my first semester at Edinburgh Napier University and actually beginning to realise that do quite I enjoy – in certain places, at least - this Journalism malarky.

However, if you talk to me next week when I’m doing my final Study Skills essay before the Christmas holidays, I might not say the same.

…Them Crooked Vultures

Mixing the musical mastery of Josh Homme, John Paul Jones and Dave Grohl was never going to be a recipe for disaster.  Between them the trio span many of the most popular rock and metal acts of the last 60 years, and new project, dubbed a “supergroup” by most of the world’s musical press, I’m happy to report, has taken my ears by storm.

Them Crooked Vulture's self-titled debut album

Opening track “No-one Loves Me and Neither Do I” is a fantastic piece of mildly melancholy metal, beginning with a simple drumming intro, which leads the way into a sliding opening guitar riff from Homme, backed up smoothly by the sensual slink of Jones’s bass.  From here, the song goes through several phases, leading into a sleek, up-tempo bridge which then thuds and thunks its way into the closing “plodding” riff, which gradually increases in pace to a climactic whirlwind of drumming and noise.

“Mind Eraser, No Chaser” is an excellent hard rock tune, which owes much to Homme and Grohls previous collaborations on some of QOTSAs songs.  The use of synths in the background on the bridge is a welcome addition to the sound of the song and the tricky guitar/bass riff which opens and closes the song demonstrates that this is no half-arsed side project.  This is a tight band which seriously means business.

First single “New Fang” is another smooth, well executed hard rock song, with a charging guitar/bass riff and Homme’s vocals slotting over the top with a coolness that only he seems capable of.  This is a song which needs to be played loud.

Various tracks on the album have bits which sound as though they were created in an extended jamming session, the end of “New Fang” for instance, or the start of “Elephants” could have been improvised the day they recorded it.  In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was, but this is by no means a bad thing.  It demonstrates the undeniable chemistry between the trio.

“Elephants” returns to the “plodding” riffing seen in “No-one Loves Me and Neither Do I”, sandwiched between soaring choruses and the roaring intro and end mentioned above.

“Scumbag Blues” is a foot-tapping state of intention from the band, adorned with chilling vocals from Homme whilst his guitar screams alongside keyboards and the thud of Jones’s bass.  Grohl shows his mastery of the drums which has secured him as one of the finest drummers of our generation, fixing this track as one of the highlights of the album.

Calm and collected, “Bandoliers” effectively sums up the band’s very smooth sound, again with the keyboards of Jones complimenting the song and moving the band into experimental directions.

“Reptiles” is another very cool song, akin to “New Fang” in it’s charging riffs.  This song is very heavily influenced by Queens of the Stone Age’s sound, along with the verses of ”Warsaw, or the First Breath You Take After You Give Up”, which rely on heavy throb of Jones’s bass and Grohls drumming.  This song ends on the most improvised-sounding segment of the whole album, with the three playing off each other for an impressive 4 full minutes, before ending the song with a choreographed instrumental flourish.

Them Crooked Vultures

The first true departure for the band comes in “Interlude with Ludes”.  This sounds like the trio played a riff underwater, and takes the listener on a trip to a faraway place.  Heavy with drug references and with Homme’s voice twisted and distorted over the top, this song is a queasy, euphoric interlude in amidst the shouty, storming tunes which make up the rest of the album.

“Caligulove” is very sexually driven, a trademark of Homme’s, with the unusual addition of what sounds like a xylophone and some mandolin work by Jones.

Penultimate track “Gunman” opens to a latin-sounding acoustic riff, akin to “Songs for the Deaf” era QOTSA.  With a reverberating organ on the choruses and Grohls drums as a backbone, this is a catchy track which is only truly appreciated when listened to on headphones.

The Album closer, “Spinning in the Daffodils” begins with a chilling piano riff which is gradually approached upon by a rough, distorted guitar riff.  Two heady beats of a distant bass drum signal the beginning of yet another head banging riff topped with haunting vocals from Homme and Jones.  This leads into yet another “improvised” riff which in turn fades to an electric guitar played over an acoustic mandolin/bass/tambourine blurb from the band which slowly fades away.

Lyrically, the release is teeming with the smooth one-liners we’ve come to expect from Homme.  Quips like “Ignorance is bliss/Until they take your bliss away” (“Mind Eraser, No Chaser”) and “I know together we’ll make the possible/Totally impossible” (“Interlude with Ludes”) show that his seemingly never-ending bank of witty remarks still has plenty to offer the world.

With sky-high expectations, i feared this would be a project doomed to disappoint.  However, Them Crooked Vultures have produced a masterpiece of modern rock whilst demonstrating that they have the longevity needed to sustain them as a long-term partnership rather than a one-off special collaboration.  With rumours of the trio already working on material for a second album, the anticipation is building already.  9/10

Paperless Papers?

You know what they say: “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”.  That seems to be the approach several publications in America are taking in order to combat plummeting paper sales and the onslaught of internet news.

Hearst, Times Inc. and Condé Nast are apparently looking at joining forces in order to create an “online newsstand” from which they will sell their publications, without hard copy, to internet users.  Could this be the solution that the world’s newspapers and magazines have been looking for in order to finally utilise the internet as a financially viable tool?

As part of our course here at Edinburgh Napier, one of the modules we take in 1st year has been a tad depressing.  “Introduction to Journalism” has given us all an insight into the journalism industry, and we have found it to be in a sorry state.  With newspapers losing vast amounts of money on the running of their websites the chances of any of us getting a job at the end of our course are looking slim.  The outlook is bleak for the newspaper industry and, as a result, for budding journalists such as myself.

What these American organisations are proposing seems to be an elegant and intelligent solution to the dilemma.  Deemed an “iTunes for magazines” by many, it certainly seems to be plugging the drain down which has swallowed up so much of the industry’s money of late.  The way I see it, this could go one of two ways.

The project could be a roving success: it may be the case that people, conscientious about the environment and wasting paper, bored in the office, or simply fed up with the trudge to the newsagent in all manner of weather conditions, embrace this new, paper-free way of buying and reading their favourite newspapers and magazines, and herald it as the way forward for the industry as a whole.

Or, it may be that the whole thing is a complete flop.  The readers (or consumers, as the industry now refers to them as) might decide that they don’t like this new way of accessing publications.  If the organisations planning on piloting such a scheme keep their publications on sale as hard copy in the shops people may ignore this new system and simply go on buying a paper out of the shop as they always have done, and the whole thing would be a colossal amount of money down the toilet.  And then it’d be back to the drawing board for news organisations, square one on the global media monopoly, having gone to jail, not “pass-go”ed and failed to collect their £200.

I say go for it.  Trial and error: it’s how we ended up with the wheel.

But what do you think?  Feel free to comment as well as vote…

…are just daft.

Not long ago, when crossing at the traffic lights where Earl Grey Street joins Lothian Road, I came across this sight.  [See Below]

A man, presumably with some vendetta against public transport (lets face it, who doesn’t these days) had taken it upon himself to be some sort of revolutionary, defending the common man’s right to get on a bus where and when it has stopped moving.

The bus driver, a man of much patience, simply sat and watched as this Che Guevara of the bus lane hurled abuse at the windscreen of the bus, displaying his displeasure at the driver’s refusal to open the bus doors at the traffic lights.  Eventually our hero got tired of yelling and lit up a cigarette, and proceeded to lean on the bus’ windscreen.

Perhaps busman was trying to emulate this act of selfless heroism from Tiananmen Square, 1989.  After relieving the bus of his presence, he disappeared, leaving no trace of his being there, save a smouldering cigarette butt…

The Man Who Shouts at Buses

The anonymous “Tank Man”, who appeared at the Tiananmen Square Massacre of 1989

The Daily Death Race to the Dull and Dreary

To most commuters, the daily trudge from the breakfast table to their place of work is a relatively safe and uneventful one.  Yes, I’m sure that occasionally they may suffer a spot of road rage because the man driving the bus in front doesn’t seem to realize how much of a hurry they’re in and that the meeting they’ve got to get to is much more important than abiding to the stupid rule that says passengers are only allowed get off at a certain point at the bus stop. For motorists, this is not a matter of life and death.  Unless they’ve accidentally become part of an insane and twisted re-enactment of the movie Speed, in which case it most certainly is a matter of life and death.

However, for the student too stingy to get the bus, cycling is the only option for getting from their messy, hungover bedsit to the lecture hall where they can safely fall asleep.  Cycling is quicker than walking, and this gives the student more precious minutes in bed where he can attempt to rest his chemical-addled brain before leaving the sanctuary of his natural habitat – the mess.  In this day and age, making the journey without being maimed in a horrendous traffic accident is no mean feat.

This can be due to any number of reasons, and the faults are on both sides.

The student, who needs his money for beer, cannot afford to shell out for a bus fare on a daily basis.  This means he probably cannot afford a decent bike.  Therefore the possibilities are endless for mechanical mishaps with his vehicle of choice.

Because he spends all his money on beer, the student, while he’s cycling, will have his mind on other things such as piecing together what happened the night before and trying to come up with an excuse for his lecturer explaining why there is vomit all over his assignment and the pages are stapled together using an old bottle cap crushed with a rock.

Again, due to an evening of excess the night before, we can assume that the student’s reactions and perception of reality are equal to those of a common garden snail.  With no antennae.

However, due to the innumerable students who can afford to get the bus, or who are too lazy or hungover to cycle, our student has to share his route with these bastardly behemoths of the road.  Endlessly slouching in and out of their stops, these bullys of the morning mess of traffic are a perilous obstacle for our less-than-conscious and likely late student.

The sales rep, in his Vauxhall Astra company car, also poses a threat to the cyclist.  Most likely lost in the rush-hour streets of an unfamiliar town, through an endless stream of unexpected U-turns he contributes to the imminent danger the cyclist in.

I know this as I have experienced it first hand.  Just the other day I was cycling through the lights (which were green at the time, might i add) on my way back from university when a blue Ford Focus attempted to park on top of me.  I, a bedraggled, wet and hungry student, simply took this in my stride, expressing my discontent to the driver with some rude gestures, a lot of loud swearing, and by cycling away promptly without looking back.

Some may label me as a coward for doing this, but think about it.  On  a busy city street, during a wet afternoon commute, it is easy to make it look like the fault of the cyclist when someone gets knocked off their bike by a car.   “Oh, I didn’t see him,” the motorist would plead.  “He came out of nowhere!”  But if you’re one of the thousands of motorists who commute in a city everyday, take an extra second to have a good hard look in your mirror.  You might just save the life of a penniless student.

Interview with a Journalist: Iain Pollock

A former student of Napier College, as it was known then, Iain Pollock has been a journalist since he left school.  In his years in this career, Iain has covered many local stories, and was a working journalist at the time of the Lockerbie bombing.

 Today, Iain Pollock, as sub-editor of the Dumfries and Galloway Standard, could be described as a successful journalist.  However, journalism was not his original career choice.  “I stumbled in on it in a way,” he says, the subdued hubbub of a local newsroom on a slow day punctuating the background.  “It was something I had considered doing, not my original choice.”

At a school careers fair he had attended a talk given by the then editor of the Observer series Bill Laidlaw.  This would turn out to be a landmark moment in his career.  After he left school, Pollock was leafing through the Annandale Herald in search of a job, and came across an ad for a trainee journalist on the paper.  In the interview, Iain cited the careers talk he’d attended whilst at school as one of the reasons he had considered journalism as a career.  He was astounded to discover that the man who was conducting his interview was the very same man who had given that talk all those years ago.

“That may have had something to do with me getting the job!” he says, with a smile in his voice.  As soon as he was given the job he was given his own beat in the Lockerbie area, and was given the position of District Reporter for the Moffat News and Annandale Herald.  “After that I was just sent out and left to find stories.”

After his period as a trainee journalist with the Observer series, Iain began his training to be a journalist at Napier College.  It was here that he passed his proficiency as a journalist and was elevated to the position of senior reporter in just three years.

After this his progression was fairly straightforward: “Ten or twelve years ago, once I’d finished at Napier I went in for the job of depute editor at the Standard and got it.”

When asked if he has any tips for today’s budding journalist, Iain replied citing two main boxes which need to be ticked: “Learn shorthand.  That’s the first thing I would look for on a CV if I was interviewing someone for a job on the paper.”  He says that studying journalism at a college or university is very useful, but claims that good old-fashioned experience is an invaluable thing to have behind you when going for a job.  “You can teach journalism to a degree, but nothing beats newsroom experience.

“The most important thing though is the basics.” says Iain.  “It pains me when I take on juniors and they spell everyone’s names wrong.”

I ask Iain where the best place to look for experience is.  He suggests taking part in the running of a student newspaper as a good way of gaining experience.  “That always looks good on a CV.”  For anyone looking to move in to the broadcast area of news reporting he says that radio stations are a good source of access to a working environment.  “These places are always looking for free labour so it’s easy enough to get in.”

Iain leaves me with some words which I am sure one day I will look back on and consider them wise: “Journalism is a fun career.  No two days are the same…it’s a bit crazy.”

A City of Literature

The Scott Monument in Prince's Street Gardens."Edinburgh in 287 steps"

All stories have to begin somewhere.  However, when visiting Edinburgh it’s the sheer amount of stories that have roots there that hits you first.  The bookish individual is spoilt for choice when looking for literary-based places to visit in Edinburgh the whole year round.

The city’s literary scene is summed up each August with the Edinburgh International Book Festival at Charlotte Square Gardens, but if you’re visiting in between times, that doesn’t mean you’re thirst for all things literary won’t be quenched.

Starting on the Royal Mile, Edinburgh’s picturesque cobblestone High Street, there are three tours of Edinburgh which focus solely on the side of the city that lives on today through our most treasured reads.  They are: The Edinburgh Literary Pub Tour, The Edinburgh Literary Bus Tour and The Makars’ Literary Tour

The Pub Tour takes a relaxed look at the town’s literary history through its many public houses which have been frequented by writers throughout the past.  The tour is led by two fictional Victorian Edinburgh Gents, Clart and McBrain who take the tour through a series of dramatic dialogues as they attempt to decide between them whether Edinburgh’s pubs really did play an important part in the city’s cultural history or if the tour is just a glorified pub crawl.  That is something you can decide for yourself as you progress through the narrow alleys of the Old Town and the sweeping streets of the New.

This tour is absolutely free of charge, but sadly if all these bars is too much for you and you fancy a wee dram as the tour goes on, you will have to pay for your own drinks in the bars as you journey through the literary history of Edinburgh’s pubs.

The Literary Bus Tour runs all year round on a pre-booking basis for groups of between 5 and 15 people and visits some of t

The Elephant House, the "birthplace" of Harry Potter

he town’s most renowned literary sites.  Relax as the bus whisks you between historical site after historical site.  Hop off and enjoy the atmosphere of these sites of literary interest or enjoy them from the comfort of your seat on the tour bus.

The Makar’s tour takes place on Makar’s court outside the Writers museum, which can be found down Lady Stair’s Close, just off the Royal Mile.  Makar’s court is floored with stones inscribed with quotes from famous Scottish writers.  This tour is a piece of outdoor theatre which brings the history of Scottish literature to life.

Of course, as it takes place in Makar’s court, once the live spectacle is over, you are but steps away from the Writer’s museum, which is a must see for any book-lover visiting Edinburgh.  With exhibits on Robert Burns, Robert Louis Stevenson and a wealth of other writers from Edinburgh’s past, the Writer’s museum will more than fulfil any Scottish literature enthusiast’s needs for a slice of the past.

Indeed, the Writer’s museum and the literary tours are only the start for anyone willing to explore literary Edinburgh.  The city has myriad monuments to famous writers through time, and a stupendous selection of famous writer’s homes from the past.

The Sign for the Writers Museum, at the entrance to Lady Stair's Close, off the Royal Mile.

If you feel like walking around the city’s famous sites at your leisure rather than having to conform to the possible hustle bustle of one of the tours, which due to their popularity tend to be rather crowded.  You may want to enjoy these sites in relative peace or perhaps you would rather just visit a selection of them.

In the Old Town, there’s the National Library of Scotland, where, if you fancy relaxing away from the hustle and the bustle of the tourist-crowded streets, you can go and sit in peace with a good book.

Or, Harry Potter fans can visit “The Elephant House” cafe on George IV Bridge, where J K Rowling first began writing her much-adored and incredible successful Harry Potter series of books.

On the Royal Mile you can visit the site of Luckenbooth’s, once the office of Robert Burn’s publisher, William Creech.  The office has since been converted into a gift shop of the same name, and so is instantly recognisable by the sign above the shopfront.

If you feel like venturing across to the New Town, you’re still spoilt for choice as to the literary Edinburgh.  In Princes Street Gardens, the unmissable Scott Monument towers above the landscape.  The monument is open to any members of the public brave enough to scale the 287 steps to the top and the view of Edinburgh and in particular the New Town is breathtaking.

If you wish, you can visit Princes Street, where the opening scenes of the movie “Trainspotting “, an adaption of Irvine Welsh’s novel of the same title, were filmed.  This is also a chance to do a spot of shopping, with various High Street stores having branches on this street.

Further away from Princes Street, you can visit the home of Robert Louis Stevenson as a child on Heriot Row.

Or, on North Castle street, you can see the house which belonged to Sir Walter Scot for 28 years from 1798 onwards.

If your literary tastes are of a more modern tendancy, you may be a fan of Ian Rankin’s Inspector Rebus series.  In Young Street, one of the quaint, cobbled backstreets of the New Town, resides the Oxford Bar, one of Inspector Rebus’ favourite haunts.

Whichever side of town you choose to explore, you won’t be left short of options if you choose to investigate the literary side of  “al’ reekie”.