Hsawaknow!!!! Is that Japanese? No, it's Wonkawash backwards

And so they did, as grey skies sauntered over Milton Country Park, drawn like pins to a magnet to a marquee. Scores of music lovers, loyal 'band-aids', families and generally curious passers by gathered to watch the park's first, in what is hoped to be annual, live music event, celebrating Milton's 10th Anniversary.

In spite of deteriorating weather, numbers increased throughout the day to hear local, primarily unsigned talent such as Calling Orson, Skelliga and Houston 500 contribute their unique slant of rock, punk, funk, folk and acoustic accolades.

Missing the odd band member and despite kicking off the action in that dreaded early afternoon graveyard stint, The Broken Family Band proved the perfect festival openers with carefree acoustic numbers made all the more entertaining by the enthusiasm of guitarist Mickey's Kodak-happy mother. The tone responded to growing families sitting outside the marquee, venturing from subdued tranquility to delirium of bouncy yet disturbing Get Happy. Thankfully crowds laughed with, and not at. The boys wrapped to prepare for a gig elsewhere, such is the joy of The Signed band, poles apart from punk rock's Skelliga, leaving - if only - shortly after the park's closure.

Behold, the heavens opened, silver linings disappeared, and the remnants of freshly cut grass were all that reminded us it was July when the Hour of Skelliga dawned. But not for long. This young consortium of students and other wannabe societal dregs chased the rain away, bringing a thoroughly entertaining set in spite of evident hangovers and the "feeling it's Sunday." Each member took their turn at the limelight, though the most affecting performances owed much to the crowd interaction from front-"duo" Alix and Stef and the careful observation "you seem to like the louder ones don't you." Yes, and it's a good thing we do; anything too polite might unveil the cliched student ethos behind the punk image (see the constantly plugged www.skelliga.org if you're interested/ up for a giggle) which might have been detrimental to the raging 'You Silly Thing.' Not to mention the simple fact this is a genuinely promising gathering of musical talent, with innovative riffs and melodies. They are perhaps better illuminated by a later, larger crowd to complement such overlong coats, wacky retro punk hairstyles and steam-thick stage presence. Still, a bigger exuberant Milton event in the not too distant future, already hearing the opening lines "We were here the first year they did this!", hurling cigarettes whilst attemting to prevent their oversized punk heads exploding, is gloriously forseeable.

Late afternoon passed by smoothly with Calling Orson, a four-piece led by what can only be described as a dance tornado. Taking us across the genre spectrum with their own impressive take on funk, acid jazz, blues and acoustic, the band's unrelenting energy was captured in the pyro technics of the frontman as the remaining band members look on, almost as bemused as we are.

Such enthusiasm was perhaps utilised more economically by successive modern ambient rock group Amara. With the rain conjuring Radiohead/Muse incantation, much rehearsal had clearly gone into the set, as illustrated so beautifully when band member, as temperamental as his amp, spiralled into Gallagher brother style tantrum. There was, in fact, some interesting, intelligent noise from this lot, particularly a stylophone wielded more than skilfully by Gallagher boy. However, even Thom Yorke knows people don't want to be depressed live! What sounds good at 2am in the basement doesn't always bode so well onstage on a summer's day, rain or no rain, capiche?

The sedative was not to last, and alas, along came Strawberry Fair starlets Houston 500 to kick start the early evening shenanigans. Not that they kicked so much as lunged, pirouetted and ran off into the night, easily surpassing final act Right Turn Clyde and leaving Skelliga sitting bemused with their special cigarettes, in the slipstream. Like Resorvoir Dogs extras they may look, here is a band taking a simple love of thrash-rock to the next step and beyond. Highlights included the ever-catchy 'Endless' (with a remarkable penchant for remaining in the hummable heads of listeners for at least four days) and the crashing 'Arrested', illuminated by dedication to star-find, Dutch train platform pornographer Bob, from the crowd. Not satisfied by their own loud crashing pop-rock voyage, H500 visited the genre's glory days by a satisfaction-guaranteed Ace of Spades cover, to the unanimous delight of now suitably drunk headbangers. A smile, and the seedlings of a moshpit, were enjoyed by all.

Tying up the day were Right Turn Clyde, another student endeavour of the Offspring/Blink 182 variety, which might have been bland had the previous offering not set the crowd into definitive rock mode. Nonetheless, this was a respectably lively end to the day, made all the more touching by the genuine look of shock on the band's faces as impressed listeners demanded a callback. Another promising talent, epitomising a promising event.

Milton's 10th Anniversary proved a success, drawing crowds of extreme diversity but equal enjoyment. Whilst a burger bar to soak up that alcohol might have been welcomed, what a fantastic way to celebrate ten years of wildlife conservation.

Thank you to those who attended, particularly for respecting the venue as a conservation area and taking your litter home with you! Here's hoping for a Milton live Event 2004, some more food, crowds and female fronted bands...

At such a point, it is worth duly noting, that such events as enjoyed by hundreds at Milton Country park this summer, may not ever take off should the new Licensing Bill be passed through Parliament this summer. Such a clause is aimed at forcing venues, schools, churches, mosques, synagogues, and even private functions, to provide a licence before any live music is played. This includes all forms of folk and street entertainment too. Such intrusive laws will drive new talent such as the local bands enjoyed at Milton out of any potential market, with a £20,000 fine and possible 6 month jail sentence for organisers. To sign the petition against the passing of the Bill, visit www.petitiononline.com/2inabar/petiton.html. Further information can be found at www.efdss.org/licensing. Alternatively, write to your MP the snail mail way and urge them to express concern over the Early Day Motion 331. It's the only way to rid the world of Pete Waterman satanism.

For more information on the bands who played at the event, visit some of their sites...
www.h500.net
www.thebrokenfamilyband.com
www.skelliga.org (my personal favourite, I'm hoping they'll see the light of summer before disappearing up their own arses, and do something to their site to stop them looking like overeducated twats. Or not. Coz it IS funny.)

Lil bit of an extension of Reviews here, but what the hell. I've very nearly finished Mickey - Hey Mickey - 's autobiography. I'm always a bit dubious about offering an opinion on autobiographies because reading someone's life story preconceives an already full swinging (semi) adoration that means you're gonna love the book even if it's complete drivel. Which I'll admit, it's kinda true in this case, Michael here, as the Back to the Future star, ie, 'Da Maaaaan' is a bit of a childhood hero to me. And I've revelled in every minor detail wherever the time travel fun is mentioned. But I have to also admit, it's not just total adoration that compelled me to read this. Like most others, I was a little bit fascinated, let's say 'morbidly curious' of how a Hollywood megastar copes with Parkinson's disease, balancing a movie career with a sitcom.
I won't paint toenails here, there's times when Fox's honesty can be mistaken for arrogance but this makes it all that more compelling. Here's a person who's not afraid to say, 'yep, I was a total arse' in an indirect, work it out way. His writing is illustrative and funny. It's not cliched, it's not a 'here's my downward spiral til I found God' type deal, it's just an honest account of someone's confrontation with mortality and a check in with the real world. It's not a recount of how illness made him a saint - quite the opposite actually.
He's used his experience to a purpose. Nobody is more surprised at the effect his status has had on research, than he is. Celebrity is one of the more absurd and sickening facts of life; incidentally, the book reassures its effects aren't always doomed to negativity. He's testimony that where illness strikes, people don't have to be defined by it. Just read it.

I'd like to tell you a little story 'bout a l'il marine friend of mine. Thoguh recently I'm beginning to doubt our friendship because I usually refuse to befriend things that epitomise stupidity. Sometimes.

Anyhoo, his name is Keiko, a 12 ton killer whale. You may know him as Willy, freed by those schemin street kids in a film about ten years back (come on admit it ya mum took you to see it in that half term). Otherwise, you may know him as Stupid. I'll explain.

Ok, so Keiko was found in a tiny marine park pen in Mexico when the talent scouts of Hollywood decided, hey, ya know what, I've never seen him in a Kellogg's commercial but he'll do. Thus, an epic movie manifested that would go on to inspire masterpieces surpassing Andre, including, Free Willy 2 The Adventure Home, Free Willy 3 The Rescue, Free Willy the Cartoon Series and Flipper. Not to mention in some proportion, My Dog Skip.

Ah, but this was not its sole achievement and as surely as life imitates art, an all out eco campaign was launched to free Keiko from this degrading and to be quite frank Butcher, unhealthy confinement. Thus, the Free Willy Keiko Foundation was born. These kiddies spent five years of their lives raising money by way of donations, minimal profits from the movie, and robbing twelve year old children of their hard earned car washing cash (for which they suffered verbal abuse and severe whippings from wayward hose pipes.) All in the name of transporting Keiko to that land of snow and delights of Bjork they call Iceland.

Now think about this. Transporting a killer whale that usually resides in water (albeit a mini goldfish bowl) is no easy feat. As the movie pointed out, ya gotta keep the cretacean fed and watered. Ya gotta make sure he's comfy so you won't be sued when the Mirror prints 'WILLY WHALE SUFFERS FURTHER ABUSE AT THE HANDS OF DEMONIC ECO WARRIORS'. But alas, the task was complete as the chopper dropped our little friend into a gigantic holding pen ready to be trained for survival in the wild.

This lasted a fairly long time. They even had time, in their attempts to make him go after the fish rather than plead with adoring eyes like an alsatian, to bring in other small marine animals and dolphins to be nurtured and prepared for life in the fast lane. They made something of a tourist attraction out of it. AND HERE IS WHERE THEY FALL DOWN AND DOWN AND DOWN LIKE LOIS LANE JUST DROPPED BY SUPERMAN FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME. So by the time they finally let the little guy loose, tracking him via satellite device, he goes on hims merry way harbouring a secret infatuation with people with baseball caps, moustaches and cameras around their necks.

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I just watched a reallY stomach wrenching movie that leaves me with one of those 'everyone should be made to see this' type sentiments. I'm talking about Boys Don't Cry (1999). It recounts the true story of Brandon Teena, who in 1993 was raped and murdered when it was discovered that he was in actual fact, she. Don't be misled by an urge against bigotry that is the redneck (hereby rightly deserved sterotype) trademark. Some of this is difficult viewing, showing the human condition at its utter lowest tolerance, and on many occasions horrifically violent. Bringing bigotry to the fore sadly means splashing its atrocity to the screen.

Hmmmm. Looking at him on his side like that reminds me of my good former goldfish friend Mulder. Perhaps I should have tried to free him instead of flushing him down the toilet.

But he looked sorta dead to me.

This is my good friend Hal. I took this picture on his birthday. I think he likes to be in pictures.