A Starr is born: Steel Panther.

For what is only their second visit to Scotland, Steel Panther possess the impressive ability to drag a good half-venue of Glaswegians out on this icy December eve. There’s a fundamental irony in so many showing up to watch a brutal, wig-wearing lampoon of ‘80s era heavy metal, comically detailing the type of excesses that were, at one point, embodied in a serious manner by tonight’s co-headliners. Perhaps this lack of criticism for the Panther arises from the fact that the two ‘serious’ bands being parodied here once wrote hit songs about overdosing, dying, coming back to life, hitching a lift home and overdosing again (and that’s just one song) and masturbating over a picture of Marilyn Monroe. The laughter track has always been playing silently in the background of their careers, perhaps desensitizing fans to the point where not even a piss-taking pseudo-tribute act can expose the ridiculousness of such antics. Or maybe the satire just completely passes over the heads of the girls who sit on boyfriends’ shoulders, screaming and exposing themselves to the misogyny of 17 Girls In A Row and Community Property. Either way, they’re entirely entertaining, and provide some respite from a metal scene that often forgets how to have fun.

Mötley Crüe appear with a loud bang but, sadly, it’s not something that they go out on. Let’s not lie: it was the Crue who sold out this gig tonight, perhaps with some help from the support act. They could probably spend their set reading out Chekov plays and the crowd would lap it up but, while Wild Side and Girls, Girls, Girls keep fans in the band’s palms as firmly as ever, the sloppiness that has attributed itself to them in recent years still lingers. Vince still inexplicably misses out words and Mick Mars, while gifted and soulful within the refrains of songs, recreates the sound of a malfunctioning Dyson in the instrumental interludes. Flaws aside, the LA four still know how to put on a hell of a twisted carnival show, be it in terms of sound (a rowdy singalong to Smokin’ In The Boys’ Room and the grown-up sleaze rock of Saints Of Los Angeles) or vision (drummer Tommy Lee playing upside-down on a firework-filled rollercoaster) and there are enough thrills to make up for the occasional complacency.

Rolling into town: Tommy Lee, upside-down.

What Def Leppard lack in Motley Crue’s rawness and sleaze, they make up for in pristine, crafted, stadium-straddling brilliance. The runaway train of hits rolls down the line, calling at all stops from Animal to Photograph, and even an acoustic session of ballads doesn’t halt the momentum. There is, however, a sense that a percentage of tonight’s crowd see the Lep as an ironic nostalgia act, one that does not have the privilege of carrying itself on MTV culture and the popularity of reality television shows. The pomp and swagger of subtle-as-a-brick classic Pour Some Sugar On Me is perhaps laughable to the new generation of back-combing Nikki Sixx fans – it’s mainly the older attendees that are wearing Def Lep merchandise tonight – but the NWOBHMers play like proud veterans as opposed to apologetic anachronisms. Joe Elliott can’t always reach the high notes anymore – a flaw which may, in fairness, pertain to age rather than inability – but an a cappella ending to When Love And Hate Collide by the audience stands as the warmest moment of the evening.

Rock of (old) Ages: Def Leppard's Joe and Phil.

Without trying to review the headliners solely by contrast to their touring partners, it’s virtually indubitable that most negative preconceptions about them are based on a trendy social consensus as opposed to legitimate personal tastes, which sadly shatters the principle of what this music stands for. Three sides of the same strange three-sided coin the bands may be, but this tour stands as a visceral monument to the continuing idea of rock as a wonderfully varied, but uniting, force.

The Oxford Dictionary describes locust as:
noun
A large grasshopper with strong powers of flight. From time to time it migrates and causes extensive damage.

In a way, this insect shares a work ethic with American metallers Machine Head. Their last release, 2007’s The Blackening, sent them on an extensive tour which included several treks across the world, during which they rubbed shoulders and shared bills with Metallica, Slipknot and Heaven & Hell. Such tireless globetrotting cemented them as one of the best, most defended and most sought-after bands in heavy metal, vocalist Robb Flynn recently revealing his fear for the fans’ safety amidst the intense frenzies that the band invokes in their live audiences. Now, after a well-earned rest and with the release of new record Unto The Locust, the destructive Californians are ready to swarm the world once again.

Taking a four-year gap between releases can be a risky affair for a contemporary band. Fame is a fickle mistress and, in a seemingly constant stream of new talent, it would be unsurprising if she were to find a new dancer partner. Machine Head fans, however, simply grow hungrier, seemingly never satiated by the band’s semi-regular visits during the lengthy gaps between albums.
“Our process is that when we’re on tour, we’re on tour, and, when we’re finished with that tour cycle, we write.” drummer Dave McClain tells WheelScene. “After The Blackening tour, we went our separate ways for a while. Robb and Phil have families, so they had spent some time at home. A few months later, we got together and started piecing together ideas that we’d came up with over the three years on tour.”
The end result is a tour de force of crushing grooves, wailing guitars and sneering riffs but, while it’s unmistakably the same band, the cogs of the machine have been oiled and are now turning in new directions. It opens with layers of haunting Gregorian chants and ends with a choir of children, while sandwiched between are classical melodies, folksy flirtings, and edgings into darker territory.
“It’s not ‘The Blackening Part II’.” insists Dave with confidence. “It continues our progression over the last three records. That’s something we haven’t really had a chance to do, since pretty much all of our other albums have had a line-up change of some sort. It’s great to have the same four people for so long. It’s like a sports team; you have the nucleus of the good players, you go on to win, and then you bring the same people back next season.
“We never really talked about a direction. We knew that we’d be feeding from the evolution we’ve gone through since [2003’s] Through the Ashes of Empires, but we had naturally improved as songwriters and had new elements coming through which set the tone for the whole process.”

The Head have never an act to be shy and reserved about their opinions, and this offering is no different with its insights into the obsession, madness, betrayal and desperation present in today’s world. Perhaps the best example of this is their 2007 track Aesthetics of Hate, written in response to an article in which conservative writer William Grim insulted murdered Pantera guitarist ‘Dimebag’ Darrell Abbott. Flynn’s rebuttal of “you son of a bitch / I hope you rot in Hell” was obviously a popular one, as the song was nominated for Best Metal Performance at the 50^th Grammy Awards that same year. This lyrical honesty is what Dave believes inspires such devotion in fans.
“I think the stuff that Robb sings about strikes a chord in a lot of people.” he muses. “They’re very emotionally-charged lyrics, and I think people hear that honesty in his voice. They hear music on the radio and have no emotional attachment to it, but we’ve built ourselves on our interaction with fans. During our concerts, whether you’re by the soundboard or on the balcony, Robb, as a frontman, can make you feel like part of the show.”
The singer also donned his producing hat once more, focusing his “very strong vision” to shape the album into one that, in time, may prove to be their definitive work.
“Robb wasn’t credited on the albums with other producers, but he was always basically co-producing.” reveals Dave. “He’s very headstrong and will take that producer out of their element. I think having an actual member at the helm has the best results for a band.”

Early winter will see the band play South America before touring through mainland Europe and ending the year on these very shores, shaking the foundations of arenas from London to Glasgow with Bring Me The Horizon, DevilDriver and Darkest Hour in tow. The drummer seems happy about this.
“Dude, I absolutely love the United Kingdom.” he drawls, pausing for emphasis. “I’m super happy that it’s at the end of the tour. No matter where we play there, every show is insane.”
He pauses again, this time to reflect.
“It’s weird; for as long as we’ve been doing this, you’d think that we’d be on autopilot sometimes, but we try to challenge ourselves. We try to make it exciting for ourselves.”

And, if Machine Head are looking forward to the future even half as much as their fans are, that mission is already well and truly accomplished.

Jonny ‘Itch’ Fox finishes off a hamburger in an underground dressing room in the heart of Glasgow. A few hundred miles may separate him from his native London but, apparently, very little distinguishes the inhabitants of each city from another.
‘People are different everywhere. There are nice folk and dicks no matter where you go.” he laughs, swivelling his chair away from the mirror.
He would certainly know, having spent the last few months touring Europe with his band The King Blues. However, ‘band’ is too insultingly broad a term. Their sound, particularly on latest album Punk & Poetry, is a hard one to define: a pendulum of punk, hip-hop, ska and folk, swinging between cheeky pop sensibilities (the bittersweet harmonies of Everything Happens For A Reason) and compellingly unsettling vitriol (the snarling call-to-arms of We Are Fucking Angry). That’s not to mention the poetry juxtaposed with their more energetic offerings, the lyrical themes of which range from Itch’s respect for women, despite his inability to understand them, to his tongue-in-cheek branding of certain politicians as fascists.

The kids are united: The King Blues (Itch, second from right)

And it’s on streets like the ones above that this auditory regime was formed.
‘You couldn’t get Radio 1 where I grew up. There were just pirate stations coming in from every angle, playing all kinds of music.’ explains the frontman, lighting an after-dinner cigarette without a second thought for the smoking ban. ‘There was no Internet to download from. So whatever the people around you chose to play, that’s what you listened to.
‘The six of us in the band don’t agree on a lot of music, but I think it’d be boring otherwise. There isn’t a genre I don’t like – each just has good and bad stuff.’
Its impact on radio is not his only observation of the World Wide Web.
‘The mainstream media had so much control before social networking. They could demonise protestors so that everyone would turn against them, without realising that the problem was higher up. Thanks to the Internet, we can talk to each other and tell the other side of the story. We’re powerful now more than ever.’
And this is where the other side of the band’s story starts to show: their politics. Growing up around the streets and squats of the capital, Itch witnessed the social and political injustice faced by those at the bottom, but channelled his feelings into positive energy through activism and music, all in the name of the underdog.

The street poet imparts his wisdom.

‘Education is a vital thing that everyone should be entitled to.’ he states, when told about the increase in tuition fees at the University of Stirling. ‘Right now, only the rich can afford it. There’s something incredibly wrong with that. It’s all part of the worker-and-boss divide. What inspired me most after the student riots was the fact that workers and the unemployed came out to protest too. They realised that we’re in this together. I think students need to realise their personal struggles are part of something much larger. Sharing your struggles with others makes you far stronger.’
He drops his fag to the floor and stamps on it like it was a Tory Government.
‘Because, even when being political, you always need to have some humanity.’

Bands come and go. Some make it big and are hyped ad nauseam. Others pack a punch to a cult following, but never climb the ladder. This is, however, the first time in many years that an act has felt so important. The King Blues are entirely unafraid to hit out at the world’s wrongs, but not from the top of an ivory tower or from a Hollywood mansion like today’s shameless stars for whom global warming is a profile-booster. Instead, these are the heartfelt words of an honest group of people who relate to how unfairly tough life can be, but who aren’t reserved in urging the idea that you can make a difference, that you can shape your own future, and that it’s okay to smile all the while.

At least two things have been unexpected for Gomez; their name and their success.

Their first gig, in 1996, saw the lads leave a sign reading ‘Gomez’ outside the venue to direct their friend, who went by the name, to the show. This led to the audience believing it to be the band’s name, a moniker that stuck. A short while after that, the quintet recorded a demo in Southport, an area that most of them could still call home, with their families still living there. With the help of Virgin-owned Hut Records, this tape evolved into their debut album, Bring It On, which instantly catapulted the band onto the stages of major festivals and earned them the 1998 Mercury Music Prize, over the likes of Robbie Williams – the UK’s most successful solo artist. It went triple platinum, selling over one million copies, a notion that vocalist, guitarist and keyboardist Tom Gray incredulously calls ‘ridiculous’. Thirteen years, five full-length releases and no replacement members later, they prepare to release Whatever’s On Your Mind.

‘People always remark at how well we did at the start and say that nothing compares to our first album,’ explains Tom, ‘But I think if people actually compare our early and recent work, they’d have a very different view of it. I don’t think it’s a question of our music being as strong, but a question of whether or not people are interested anymore.’
Their music is hard to define; sitting somewhere between indie rock sensibilities and raw blues recklessness, Gomez have always been resilient in their post-grunge innovation.
‘I certainly feel like we’ve never really deviated from experimentation.’ says Tom of this, as though speaking in oxymorons.

The band spent three weeks recording the new album in Haunted Hollow Studios in Virginia, then tied up loose ends at their own homes. Living far apart, sending songs to each other has become routine for Gomez over the last five years, but a technique that Tom reckons they have perfected for Whatever’s On Your Mind. The fact that ideas find their way to the music from different parts of the world sheds some light on the eclectic feel to the band’s records.
‘It took about a month to put together.’ reveals Tom of the new album. ‘A big factor was that we had the songs completely arranged before going into the studio, so we didn’t waste any time or money. With the last record [2009’s A New Tide], we sat around the studio scratching our arses a lot.’
And why the title?
‘We want people to get over whatever is getting them down. It’s upbeat; we want to make the listener happy and put a spring in their step.’
It would be difficult to argue that they will not succeed in this mission. From the chilled refrains of the title track (‘Please hold onto your heart of gold/While you struggle against the cold’) to the snide bounce of Options, the newest offering sounds set to be a life-affirming smorgasbord of tumultuous instrumentation and tales of space, both inner and outer. The positive qualities of the songs may be a result of the band getting along famously during the recording sessions.
‘Everyone was getting on with each other and being nice, which, in a way, made it the easiest record we’ve ever made in terms of creative input.’
Is getting on with each other rare for Gomez?
‘Well, for it to last from start to finish while recording an album is quite rare for any band!’’ he laughs.

When it comes to bands (whether they get on with each other or not), many would say that we live in a time where, due to the rise of the Internet, only the most compromising and accessible of artists will get the attention and support of the fatcats and bigwigs, leaving the rest to die out in the depths of the underground. Some would say that this has given birth to a new era of independent music where the unsigned scene is more tightly united than ever. Tom would probably agree with the latter.
‘People are lucky now; when we started making music, there weren’t a lot of bands doing interesting things with song form and sound, whereas now we’re kind of in a golden age of exciting, interesting music, whether it’s the retro idea like Fleet Foxes and Grizzly Bear, or the vibe of Caribou.’
Do these exciting new bands spur Gomez on?
‘There are definitely bands around that get me excited, but I don’t question whether or not I need their inspiration to make records. I make music as a compulsion.’ he states firmly.
And with this, he confirms that Gomez, like their varying music, are in a limbo between commercial success and integrity-fuelled independence. Whether Whatever’s On Your Mind lives up to their debut is yet to be seen, but it’s evident that, for the band, this is neither here nor there.
‘We try new things. That’s what Gomez have always been about.’

After the celebratory blowout that was the 30th anniversary of rock at Donington Park, everyone has just about recovered in time for another weekend of reckless abandon at Download Festival 2011.

Once again, the admins have taken the lid off the bubbling pot of raw talent that is the forums and served up a banquet of musical delights in the form of The Boardie Takeover.

Offering little bands and DJs the chance to perform with the big boys and to provide the entertainment before the festival truly kicks off, the Takeover stands as a visual and visceral tribute to the rock ‘n’ rollers who shape Download into what it is.

Getting the party started with a nu metal-tinged set, DJ Soundwave is overjoyed to be returning to Download for the second year running.

“Last year was good, of course, but this year the tent is bigger, so the crowd’s bigger, so the energy’s bigger… everything’s bigger and better!” he exclaims.

The Leicester disc jockey made such a splash in 2010 that he was invited to perform the previous day too.

“I played Slayer and the crowd went mental and someone got their nose broken,” he says, almost in disbelief. “I got told off for that, and for passing out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s!”

Scolded he may have been, but what’s rock ‘n’ roll without a little danger? By the time his first set of the night is over, it’s time for the first band to step up and show that they’ve got what it takes to join the big league. Take it away, Stone Circle.

The Brighton four-piece play inspiring progressive death metal, juxtaposing crushing chuggery with sombre, quiet melodies, their talents earning them a slot at Bloodstock Open Air Festival last year.

“It was really stressful,” says guitarist Tom Skelton. “They were really on-it in terms of change-overs, whereas here, things are a lot more chilled out.”

Comparisons to Opeth are easy to make, thanks to Stone Circle’s effortless bleeding of tempos and styles (and because vocalist Joe Ashwin has a look of Mikael Åkerfeldt about him too).

The clean, introspective guitar whisperings and reserved croons are mesmerising, but it’s when behind their heavy, sonic walls of noise that this band truly shine.

With long musical passages free of vocals, they run the risk of losing the interest of a festival crowd in the mood for a party, but they remain captivating and never boring.

But how was it for them?

“The crowd were great, and we had a really nice sound on stage too,” says Joe, seemingly not as overwhelmed as you’d expect someone who’d just played Download to be.

His tone is one of confidence, however, and not of disinterest. “We try not to have too many expectations before a show, but it really was good fun.”

With an album out on Glasstone Records and a music video soon to be released, the future looks bright for Stone Circle.

First, they’re going to enjoy a weekend seeing System Of A Down and Rob Zombie, although Joe, with a grin, claims he is going to get so drunk he doesn’t care who he sees.

DJ Apocalypse’s reaction couldn’t be more different to Joe’s.

“Bloody hell… it’s Donington! Fuck’s sake… it’s Donington! It’s amazing!”

After a brief panic when he thought his kit had malfunctioned, he was able to relax and get into the swing of things.

“I have a few residencies like my night, Assault, in Nottingham, but Download is the biggest and best thing you can do. So far, everyone’s been lovely and everything’s been really chilled out.”

If he’s this excited now, how is he going to be when the bands start tomorrow?

“This is the best Download line-up in years!” he exclaims. “I can’t wait to see Hyro Da Hero and Clutch. I’m torn between Frank Turner and Rob Zombie on Sunday though; I’ve never seen Rob Zombie, but I love Frank so much…”

His worries are nothing compared to that of Aceldama – it’s their turn to get up in front of this ever-growing, ever-drunkening, ever-critical mob.

The female-fronted Brummies have nothing to fear though, as they prove themselves to be a hard-hitting, ten-legged rock animal.

They expertly walk a line between soulful, melancholic hard rock and big, dumb, old-school metal shoutalongs, never once tripping or stumbling too far into either self-indulgence or ridiculousness.

Metal And Beer sounds like it was written for the occasion, while a galloping cover of The Pointer Sisters’ I’m So Excited sees flames erupting from the ends of the lads’ guitars. Yes, seriously.

“The crowd were brilliant!” smiles vocalist Leanne post-gig. “To look out and see them enjoying themselves, hands in the air, wanting more… wow.”

“It was beyond all of our expectations,” adds six-stringer Ian.

The band have had the pleasure of performing at Metalcamp in Slovenia, but at the same time had the misfortune to clash with power metallers Hammerfall – not an act you want to share a time slot with on the continent.

Tonight, however, all focus was on them, and the festivallers certainly aren’t left disappointed.

Leanne’s excitement is unfortunately marred by having to work tomorrow, but after that she can return to enjoy the weekend.

And, despite their album Seduce, Deceive and Lead Astray currently being mixed and mastered, drummer Paul is about to leave the band, so they’ll be looking for a replacement.

“The suitable candidate must be able to put away a 24-pack in less than three hours.” they state firmly.

And where do they get such a name?

“It’s Aramaic. It literally means ‘fields of blood’ and is to do with Judas betraying Jesus,” offers Leanne.

So they’re a Christian band?

“No, we just like the name!” she hastens to add, “And, since it begins with A, we’re always at the top of the list!”

Hopefully that’s top of the list of bands for Andy Copping to one day add to his festival line-up but, regardless, tonight they’re certainly at the top of something: their game.

First sinking his teeth into the concept of the novel in Scotland’s own Cruden Bay, Stoker horrified the Victorian people with Dracula, some of whom went as far as to call it ‘the most blood-curdling novel of the paralysed century.’  When it comes to the theory behind the adaptation of novels into films, studies have been tainted by a ‘narrow one-sidedness that assumes [that such films] are merely cheap imitations’  but, while there has never been a firm explanation as to the reason(s) for adaptation, McFarlane surmises that the answer moves between poles of ‘crass commercialism’ and ‘high-minded respect for literary works.’  Given that the novel caused such a reaction, and bearing in mind its title as a Gothic classic, it is unsurprising that it has been recreated as several films, whichever of these suggested motives of adaptation the filmmakers aimed to satisfy. The question that arises, however, is how successful are the filmic versions not only in transposing the textual to a visual capacity, but interpreting it in a purposeful, worthwhile manner. Geraghty states that ‘any film that prioritises transposition over interpretation [is likely to] spectacularly fail’  while McFarlane adds that an established mood must be recreated and sustained (p. 7).

In light of these observations, this essay will examine and analyse the variations of the characters of Dracula and Mina in the novel, the 1931 film directed by Todd Browning, and the 1992 film directed by Francis Ford Coppola. In the novel and Browning version, Dracula is little more than a demonic fiend who leeches from the life force of those in his path, including the innocent fiancée of Jonathan Harker, Mina. However, in Coppola’s version, he is the immortal warrior Vlad Dracula, and is searching for the reincarnation of his bride, Elisabeta, who has been reincarnated as Mina. The aim is to highlight and compare what their characterisation (and other relevant literary and cinematic techniques) brings to the overall impact of the three media, or, indeed, what is under- or misrepresented. Attention will be paid to their development and interpersonal relations, in particular the bond that they share with each other, while relating this theme to accepted conventions and theoretical debates in the field of adaptation.

The summary that Gothic ‘shadow[s] the progress of modernity with counter-narrative displaying the underside of enlightenment and humanist values’ and focuses on whatever threatens these values  is perhaps most significant to Dracula than any other Gothic work. The novel and films explore a world beyond human comprehension and highlight how that which cannot be understood is sometimes the aspect that makes the characters’ true personalities understandable. For instance, a supernatural catalyst placed into the repressive social decorum of the Victorian Era – regarding women in particular – is key in comparing the three Dracula-Mina relationships. In late 19th Century England, to be a lady required purity, chastity, innocence and breeding, and anyone who ventured beyond such boundaries was not a lady but a whore; this is the goodness that the men like Harker seek to defend from the sexual immorality of the vampire.  However, the three seductive women in Dracula’s castle invoke an unparalleled reaction in Harker:

The fair girl went on her knees, and bent over me, fairly gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck she actually licked her lips like an animal, till I could see in the moonlight the moisture shining on the scarlet lipos and on the red tongue as it lapped the white sharp teeth… [I] could feel the hot breath on my neck. Then the [supersensitive] skin of my throat began to tingle as one’s flesh does when the hand that is to tickle it approaches nearer – nearer… I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstacy and waited – waited with beating heart.

These feelings that Harker experiences can be related to Dr. Van Helsing’s statement, in the 1992 film, that ‘Civilization and syphilization have advanced together’ (Coppola). Solano suggests this as being the idea that man, even upon reaching the pinnacle of modernity, is unable to leave behind his primitive urges (para. 11 of 13). The connotations of sexual disease in the doctor’s words cast a negative light on these women who are associated with Dracula, further reinforcing the threatening wantonness that men like Harker combat for the sake of being a gentleman. Mina being exposed to such scenes appears to be unspeakable to Harker, emphasised by his concern that reading his journal regarding this encounter would cause her pain (Dracula, p. 53) and his outrage at Van Helsing for graphically explaining how to kill a vampire in her presence (Coppola). Roth highlights that, in Dracula’s social and historical context, ‘a deliberate attempt is made to make sexuality seem unthinkable in “normal relations” between the sexes’ , resulting in the reserved, chivalric manner in which he sits with Mina in the films. Dracula, on the other hand, objectifies women in an almost chauvinistic satiation of blood thirst (‘Your girls that you all love are mine already; and through them you and others shall yet be mine’ [Dracula, p. 394]) and, to the Victorians, any man who would infect innocent, proper girls like Lucy and Mina is seen not as a man, not ‘even [a] beast’ (Dracula, p. 293) but as the Devil himself (Solano, para. 3 of 13). However, it has been noted that while the vampire himself embodies transgression, he is also the catalyst that releases subversive, disruptive desire in others.  This is true of his – Vlad’s – relationship with Mina in Coppola’s adaptation; Elisabeta, his centuries-old lover who has been reincarnated in the young woman, becomes the reason for his transgressive journey to England. The scene in which Dracula feeds his blood to Mina, in order to telepathically control her, is no longer tantamount to ‘a child forcing a kitten’s nose into a saucer of milk’ (Dracula, p. 363) since Mina recalls her past life and willingly drinks from his bleeding chest in order to join him for eternity. That the mise-en-scène of this chapter does not show her white nightdress smeared in blood like the novel states emphasises her co-operation and desire to be with him; no spilled blood suggests no slaughtered innocence, as if she believes this union is right. Additionally, her light-hearted conversation about sex with Lucy early in the film further suggests a curiosity that is never satisfied by the men around her. The transfusion of blood becomes, then, not an act of rape-like dominance like in the novel and Browning film, but an act of spiritual bonding in love, bringing out her natural, sexual urges that are otherwise repressed by her surroundings and people like the upstanding Jonathan Harker.

Religion plays a large part in developing and defining the two characters. At times it aids them, albeit through its failure, and at times quashes ambitions, but its significance, particularly in Coppola’s adaptation, is incontrovertible. The ship that carries Dracula to England bears a significant name: Demeter, after the Greek goddess of harvest. This idea of religion being the driving force behind his evil plans, and the vessel that carries him to where he may act them out. Similarly, Elisabeta’s name alludes to the Bethen, the goddess trio who inspired the sisters in – and the title of – Shakespeare’s Macbeth. These symbols place the two on a higher plain than religious icons and tie them to a tradition older than Christianity.  Elisabeta can be likened to the Bethen in that her story – embodied in her reincarnated soul – is passed down like that of the folkloric triple goddess, highlighting her as a divine being worthy of Vlad. This hierarchic religious imagery may also explain why the Count can bring his dark forces across the sea, regardless of Demeter’s protection and life-preserving powers; while not a Christian figure, the goddess and all holy symbols are beneath Dracula, who has ascended to a higher, older plain than any other hallowed being. This apotheosis is detailed to a greater extent in the Coppola film when, in one of the opening scenes, Elisabeta’s dying wish is to be reunited with Vlad in Heaven, only for His will to declare that her soul is damned for committing suicide. Vlad’s reaction – ‘Is this my reward for defending God’s church?’  – leads to him renouncing God and defacing the altar of the church, swearing to avenge her. This again bonds Dracula and Mina in a spiritual capacity and lends a sense of purpose to his later actions; as sacrilegious as they may be, they are committed in the name of love, as opposed to unexplained, nefarious blood-sucking; as Glover puts it, the nosferatu is tormented by humanisation.

While cinema tends to be less unbridled by the temporal and spatial barriers that allow novels to provide greater insight into the minds of characters, it is worth paying attention to such visual and audio aesthetics of the two films, as they are used to create a tangible sense of character. Geraghty explains this as novels being able to express internal knowledge, but screen adaptations having to imply feelings or motivations from actions since the camera is best suited to the ‘objective recording of physical appearances’ (p. 2). There is little sense in a director filming scenes if they are not important to the film, the sets and sounds thus begging semiotic evaluation in terms of their significance. Both the 1931 and 1992 films make effective use of such elements. In the former, sound – or lack of – is used to confirm that Dracula is more than just a strange man inhabiting a castle. When Dracula and his brides attack Renfield (the equivalent of Harker in the novel and Coppola film), it is in complete silence, except for the cry of a bat, before changing to a noisy scene of the Demeter crossing the sea. This juxtaposition of sounds breaks the pattern of scenes up until then and places importance on the bat scene, verifying that Dracula is, in truth, an otherwordly, evil creature, who seeks more than legal advice from Renfield.  A scene in the same film relates to the elitist way in which Dracula views others; he stands above Mina as he guides down the stairs of Carfax Abbey while the now-crazed Renfield cowers below her. This shot signifies the way in which Dracula towers above those who he uses, and much higher above the cowardly, twisted slaves he has created. That this occurs in a holy building further emphasises the aforementioned way in which Dracula has no respect for religion. Additionally, after the Count has been slain, Mina and Jonathan ascend the stairs from the dark basement to the sound of church bells that have connotations of holiness and matrimony, with the couple rising out of the darkness. Their ringing echoes the idea that good has overcame evil, portraying the character of Dracula as nothing more than a villain, unlike the 1992 film. A similar juxtaposition of scenes is used in Coppola’s adaptation; the dark, sinister castle that Dracula calls home is placed alongside the bright, Hillingham home that Lucy and Mina are staying in. The latter is an example of heritage cinema, a ‘restrictive notion of cultural memory’  incorporating the idyllic, orderly home life of good Victorians, contrasted with the stark conditions of Carpathia. This ‘invariable reference’ to the country houses, stately homes, and ‘the gentrified life-style of a neo-pastoral southern Englishness’ is intended to be ‘heteroglossic’ (Voigts-Virchow, p. 124) in that its purpose is to represent the entire British Isles or, in this case, the decency of the people that Dracula preys on, regardless of how much or how little the reader can relate to them. Giddings calls it ‘a period still almost within living memory in which culture we feel we have a strong connection.’  The Austro-German term for heritage film, Heimatfilm, has been described as meaning ‘timeless’, ‘truthful’, ‘pleasant’ and ‘intimate’ (Voigts-Virchow, p. 126), which may better explain the use of such typical heritage-based scenes as a uniting feature; regardless of social class, virtually every member of an audience can relate to these homely feelings. Despite the fact that Dracula reads books about England, he tends to be uncomfortable with modernity, choosing to live in an ancient house and talking in depth about Transylvanian history, particularly battles, ‘as if he had been present at them all’ (Dracula, p. 41) – which he had been (as alluded to in the 1992 film). This shows his ancestral pride and highlights that, ultimately, as Senf notes, he is a creature of tradition who is incapable either of understanding or adapting to modern life (p. 23). As such, heritage cinema becomes a device capable of turning the audience against the seemingly heartless vampire, the spatial setting placing emphasis on the purity and innocence of the two young women and separating them from the dangerous world that Harker is trapped in, as well as instilling the notion that Dracula is out to destroy this appreciated culture. The transitional scene of his face being swallowed by the Count’s shadow further reinforcing this good vs. evil idea that sets up the audience to be repulsed by Dracula, only for their perception of him to later be changed and make for effective, captivating cinema.

Ultimately, Coppola’s adaptation of Stoker’s Dracula can be seen as the filmic version that brings the most original interpretation and addition to the plot. Browning’s film uses cinematic technique to an arguably effective degree, but the naivety of the era – near the beginning of cinema and adaptation – leaves it characterising Dracula only as villain and Mina as a typical helpless damsel-in-distress. While both films do show virtually all of Bottling’s elements of the Gothic novel – ‘supernatural and natural forces, imaginative excesses and delusions, religious and human evil, social transgression, mental disintegration and spiritual corruption’ (Senf, p.7) – only Coppola’s chooses to develop the story into one that explores the dark side of love, humanity and nature by making Dracula and Mina – or Vlad and Elisabeta – a humanised couple destined to be united in eternity, but held back by the social expectations of Victorian England. To conclude in terms of Geraghty’s view, Coppola prioritises interpretation over transposition and, as such, his film can be seen as more of a success than Browning’s, which, while well-recreated in terms of mise-en-scène, provides little more than a visual accompaniment to the novel.

Bibliography

Bak, John S., Postmodern Dracula: From Victorian Themes to Postmodern Praxis (Cambridge: Scholars Publishing, 2007).

Browning, Tod, dir. Dracula, 1931 (Universal Studios, 2002).

Byron, Glennis, ed., Dracula: Contemporary Critical Essays (London: Macmillan Press, 1999).

Cartmell, Deborah, Whelehan, Imelda, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Literature on Screen (Cambridge: University Press, 2007).

Cartmell, Deborah, Whelehan, Imelda, ed., Adaptations: From Text to Screen, Screen to Text (Oxon: Routledge, 1999)

Coppola, Francis Ford, dir. Bram Stoker’s Dracula, 1992 (Sony Pictures, 2007).

Dalby, Richard, ‘Bram Stoker’, in The Penguin Encyclopedia of Horror and the Supernatural, ed. by Sullivan, Jack (New York: Viking, 1986).

Desmond, John M., Hawkes, Peter, Adaptation: Studying Film & Literature (New York: McGraw-Hill, 2006).

Geraghty, Christine, Now a Major Motion Picture: Film Adaptations of Literature and Drama (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2008).

McFarlane, Brian, Novel to Film: An Introduction to the Theory of Adaptation (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996).

Senf, Carol A., Science and Social Science in Bram Stoker’s Fiction (Westport: Greenwood Press, 2002).

Solano, Michelle Rose, ‘Dracula and the Victorian Era’, Lit React – Analysis & Reactions on Works of Fiction (2011) <http://www.litreact.com/reactions/dracula_stoker_solano.html> [accessed 30 April 2011]

Stoker, Bram, Dracula (London: Penguin, 1993), p. 54.

Sullivan, Jack, ed., The Penguin Encyclopedia of Horror and the Supernatural (New York: Viking, 1986).

Emerging out of the 1980s UK glam scene, Tigertailz lit up the pages of the metal press in a burst of neon colour, jagged guitars and perhaps the best hair out of any of their British or American contemporaries. While often only linked to subtle-as-a-brick anthems like ‘Love Bomb Baby’ and ‘Livin’ Without You’, the Welsh quartet showed that deep down they were a hard rocking force to be reckoned with, through the likes of later albums like 1991’s ‘Banzai!’ and 1995’s ‘Wazbones’, the former even featuring Metallica and Megadeth covers.

They split up in the mid-‘90s before reforming almost ten years later, only for 2007 to see the sad and untimely death of bassist Pepsi Tate. The band, including founding guitarist Jay Pepper and best-known singer Kim Hooker, however, soldiered on, recruiting bass player Sarah Firebrand and drummer Robin Guy, and releasing a new live album last year, encapsulating the timeless quality of their genre-defying music.

Speaking backstage at the Cathouse in Glasgow, Scotland, Kim and Jay took the time to give an insight into life in the band.

l-r: Kim Hooker, Sarah Firebrand, Jay Pepper, Robin Guy.

You’re almost at the end of your UK tour. How has it been?
Jay [Pepper, guitar]: Most nights have been great. There hasn’t been a really bad show; a bad show for us if the sound isn’t great, and there have only been one or two of those. The rest have been fantastic.
Kim [Hooker, vocals/guitar]: Something that we kind of forgot is that how much easier it all becomes when you do five or six shows in a row. It all becomes like second nature and you become a better band. I’m more familiar with the set now than I ever have been.

‘Bezerk’ is hailed as your breakthrough album. Does it feel like twenty years since it was created?
Jay: It seems like a long time ago, yes, but playing the songs is like riding a bike – it all comes back to you quickly. It was a lifetime ago that we actually wrote and recorded the songs though, so you just do what you can to make it feel as fresh as possible. As for career highlights, some of the festivals we’ve played since our reunion have been brilliant. I enjoy things a lot more nowadays, doing them at our own pace.
Kim: I’m exactly the same; I can’t honestly look back on the Bezerk period and feel that I enjoyed it more than today. Back then our lives depended on it, but now it’s something we do purely because we love it.

Tigertailz have been credited as being one of the definitive British glam metal acts. Is this something you still identify with?
Kim: I never did identify with it, to be honest. I always thought we were just a heavy metal band. Our influences growing up were the likes of Judas Priest, Accept and Black Sabbath. That’s what I listened to, and that’s what I still listen to.
Jay: It’s understandable that people will always identify with your image and pigeonhole you before they’ve even heard a note of your music. Luckily, this time round, I think we’re changing people’s perceptions of us. For example, we played Hard Rock Hell [in Prestatyn, Wales] three years in a row because people wanted to see us.
Kim: When it comes to image, I just couldn’t imagine being in a band and going on-stage at night looking exactly the same as I did when I arrived in the afternoon. There’s nothing in that for me at all. Even bands like Metallica have an image – they just have a different image from us. We’ve never considered not getting dressed up before a gig, and we never will.
Jay: Yeah, it’s entertainment! It’s a theatric. When you go to see a show, you don’t expect to see people in jeans and t-shirts. A lot of fantastic bands do dress like that, but our deal is that you get a show, like it or not.

Women in metal is a subject that has been documented ad nauseam, but does having a female member change Tigertailz’s perspective in any way?
Kim: Well, the problem for us was that we thought Pepsi was irreplaceable. Then it occurred to us, let’s not try to replace him, so a female bassist was perfect because no one will compare the two.

What changes have you observed in the music industry or live scene since your inception in the 1980s?
Kim: Well, one good thing is that people don’t get fucked over by record companies as much anymore. Back when we were making ‘Bezerk’, we were always driven by record companies who used to demand singles, and that’s why the songs on it range from ‘Sick Sex’ and ‘Heaven’ to stuff like ‘Love Bomb Baby’. Nowadays we just write what we want to write, with no one telling us how to sound. The pressure’s off, and that’s a change for the better. I think the Internet has a lot to do with bands feeling like that now.

What about the calibre of bands nowadays?
Kim: I don’t really go out of my way to listen to any bands, they tend to come and go out of my life, but generally I think that bands seem to play a lot better these days. You get fifteen-year-old kids who can play very well, and that wasn’t the case when I was that age.

Has your fanbase changed in twenty years?
Kim: On this tour I’ve realised that, yes. There are people that weren’t even born when we started who are getting into us.

Is it satisfying?
Jay: Well, hopefully it’s a testament to how good our records were. It’s really rewarding when eighteen-year-olds who weren’t part of the scene at the time get into the music years later.

What are your plans for after the tour?
Jay: We’ve got a few more shows planned. We tend to cherry-pick those and only do the ones we really want to. But, apart from that, we’re looking to record a new album later this year. I’m not sure whether it’ll actually be out this year though.

What can we expect from it?
Kim: We’ve been writing for a while, and it will just sound like the heavier songs that we play at the moment. We’re now the band that we always were, in truth. I’ve written a few songs that could be called singles, but then I’ve thought why? I don’t need to write singles anymore. We’ll just throw a load of new songs into the air and see which way they land.
Jay: If a commercial record or single comes out of it, that’s fine, but it’s not like we’re going out of our way to write another ‘Love Bomb Baby’.
Kim: We’ve been talking about doing this album for a few years, but shows and such always get in the way of recording, so we’d like to get a record finished before we come back…
Jay: …more aggressive.

Image: pokecharms.com

These days existing in popular culture mainly as ironic, semi-nostalgic Facebook groups, Nintendo’s Pokémon video game franchise remains strong nonetheless; it is the second highest-grossing series of all time behind only Mario. Since the average Brig reader would have been around ten years old at the height of its popularity circa 1998, the RPGs – including original releases Red & Blue – have since sadly, but inevitably, been stored away by many in the locker of childhood memories amongst the yo-yos, Pogs and those squishy alien things that apparently had babies if you rubbed their arses together. However, to dismiss them is to undermine the entertainment quality and intricate detail woven into every instalment since the ‘90s, including the recently released Black & White Versions.

Still using the blueprint of a local professor giving some young children their own pet Pokémon and sending them out into the world to make them maul other kids’ companions, the story of these titles sees you exploring the new world of Unova (based on New York City) to find 156 new beasties and stop the notorious Team Plasma. The absence of all old Pokémon is a refreshing change, but this rekindling of interest is somewhat diminished by the designs of some of the new ones; if they’re not slightly-altered copies of those that came before, they’re bottom-of-the-barrel scrapings such as a black bin bag monster (seriously) and goofy cartoon-like animals.

That said, most of the fifth generation are passable at least, with my personal favourite being a unicorn with a lightning bolt for a horn. Cool as ice. Furthermore, despite following roughly the same storyline as its predecessors, the antagonists in this game have a more thought-provoking back story and reasons for their actions, unlike the typical cookie-cutter evil organisations of yore like Team Rocket. You may even find yourself torn between the heroes and villains as the plot thickens.

Image: gbatemp.net

One letdown with these first offerings of the 2010s is their graphical aesthetics. On the plus side, a stylish 3D overview has been introduced, with the camera panning and contorting to bring a whole new shine to the world. Where the visuals often fail, however, is in the reluctance to change the character to anything other than a 2D, four-directional bunch of pixels. In the new, breathtakingly cinematic environments, this leads to the protagonist often looking sloppy and distorted. The same can be said for the new battle system, in which the pixellated creatures’ now-constant movements often make them look somewhat anachronistic in contrast with the sleek new arenas and menus.

It has its flaws but, since it remains as true to the tried-and-tested formula that has sold over 200 million units, while introducing remarkable new elements, Black and White could be seen as the turning point of a series that has not yet seen its day. And, above all else, twelve years ago you were informed that you had to catch ‘em all. This has never been rescinded.

Don’t you find a true story always touches you so much more than a fictional scenario? The end of Marley & Me made me bawl like a little girl, while I Love You Philip Morris left me in disbelief at how someone who’s got some chutzpah can fairly easily undermine the American justice system. I am also pleased to announce that a film about a guy who gets his arm smashed and stuck between a rock and a cliff wall in the middle of nowhere and has to cut it off with a cheap pen knife is so much worse when it’s based on what actually happened to one poor chap called Aaron Lewis in 2003.

Image: digitaltrends.com

Directed by award-winning Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, Slumdog Millionaire), 127 Hours depicts the hellish struggle of Lewis (portrayed by James Franco, perhaps best known for his role as Harry Osborn in the Spiderman trilogy) as he spends the eponymous time trapped in a ravine in the desert of Utah, miles from civilisation, and with no way of contacting the family that are unaware of his hiking trip. Fans of The Descent will get a kick out of its nauseating claustrophobic element but, even though it doesn’t have subterranean, flesh-eating monsters, this (unfortunately) real story manages to be just as – if not more – unsettling.

The camera often pans out from his morbid rest stop to reveal the vast, barren desert stretching out under a scorching sun and continually highlights his insignificance and the severity of his situation. A point that this breath-taking cinematography successfully hits home – apart from don’t run carelessly over extremely dangerous rocks, of course – is the power of the elements in comparison to human strength and determination: even the most cocksure mountain climber can’t defy the unforgiving, ruthless Mother Nature.

Of course, being stuck down there for so long is bound to leave you a bit bored or, in this case, almost completely fucking mad. As time wears on and the water runs out, a mentally unhinged Lewis begins tackling his loneliness by creating talk shows on his video camera, discussing the idiocy of leaving for this journey without telling anyone, and leaves goodbye messages to those at home, should they ever find his corpse. As amusing as some of these schizophrenic sketches are, they are contrasted with the horrific extremes that being trapped in such a setting will push a person to; anyone who can calmly watch his bodily contortions and listen to the screaming feedback as he severs his nerves may be as psychologically unstable as the protagonist.

As brutally graphic as it is brutally honest, 127 Hours is an inspiring piece of work that could launch a deserving Franco into the big league. You’ve got to give him a hand after such a performa… oh…

Myself with Michael Monroe (centre) and Sami Yaffa.

How has the tour been?
It’s been great. A Motörhead crowd can be really critical, but they were great with us. Motorhead have been treating us really nicely, they’re so cool and it’s been so much fun. Watching them every night is a pleasure too!

Have you played with them before?
Yes, Hanoi Rocks opened for them at three shows in Finland in 2007.

How did you come across the members for your new band?
I met up with Sami Yaffa [original Hanoi Rocks bassist] again last summer. He was with the New York Dolls and I went to their show in my home city and ended up playing saxophone with them on-stage, then we hung out for the rest of the night and I told him about my new solo album. Ginger [of The Wildhearts] came up to me at an Alice Cooper in Helsinki last December and said he’d very much like to play guitar, so he got involved and it worked out perfect.

After Hanoi Rocks split up, was it a conscious decision to continue your solo career or resurrect one of your old projects like Demolition 23?
We just thought we’d put together a new band that plays Hanoi Rocks, Demolition 23 and my solo material.

How does this band compare to your previous backing acts?
So far it’s my favourite one. They’re very strong, talented individuals.

You recently released a live album from Finland; have you found that your Finnish fans have remained loyal during the time you lived in New York?
Yeah. It’s surprising, but there’s a new generation of kids coming out. We’re having to do underage shows because of the crowds we’re attracting. It’s so cool. Their parents must have been into Hanoi Rocks the first time round.

You were an inspiration to some of the biggest rock bands ever, like Guns N’ Roses Mötley Crüe. Is that something you’re proud of?
It’s flattering to hear them say that. I’m sure they have other influences, but it’s cool if they mention me. I was jamming with Slash twice last summer, at festivals in Finland and Osaka. I broke two ribs at the latter – I slipped and landed on one of the steel bars in front of the crowd. I soldiered on though!

How was it to finally make it to Donington this year, when you played Download Festival 2010?
It was cool. It was nice to play there after all these years. We were on at the same time as Rage Against The Machine but our crowd was still really big.

Have you noticed any changes in the music industry since you started out as a musician?
Major changes – but none that really affect me. We still just play shows. Bands talk about not selling records these days due to downloading, but our fame never really translated into record sales in the first place so we had nothing to lose! (laughs)

What are your plans for after the new year?
My new album will be coming out, then we’ll be doing videos and press stuff. Will we be back in the UK to promote it? Yep – I can’t wait!