#34: slo crostic
January and February are- in my opinion at least- bad months (sorry to all my Capricorn and Aquarius friends). Long, grey, usually cold; they’re a feat of endurance I find myself racing to get through, the optimism of March and April and Spring the carrot dangling at the end of a stick. Traditionally, I want to do very little at the beginning of the year; a lack of money, a lack of energy, even if the most sensible thing to do is to fill days in an attempt to decrease the melancholy. This was definitely the case this year; I tried to keep busy, socially and culturally. I am relieved to report that- thank god- I finally found my reading mojo and in two months alone have finished more books than I did for the entirety of 2025. There’s no magic trick to why this has happened beyond (shock horror) removing the distraction of both Instagram and TikTok from my phone. My own propensity to lose hours scrolling and scrolling has been well documented, and it’s funny to confront the impact these two specifically have on my attention if present. A few weekends ago, I redownloaded TT in search of footage from some shows I’d attended days before, and lost literal hours to video upon video upon video. I cannot tell you what any of them featured, just that none of them were what I was actually looking for.
An abundance of annual leave to use meant I took a full week off in Feb and rather than stewing in my own house about how the time would have been better used during warmer months, we headed to Leeds for a quick 37(?) hour round trip. I hadn’t visited since 2018; it’s a city so tethered for me to a specific period of time (2006-2014) that being there again felt both alien and like being home. Everything had changed, though it hadn’t really. I can still navigate streets based on landmarks and shops, even if the downsizing or relocation of many places threw me off (Out of this World now being the size of a matchbox was especially jarring to see). My first sip of a Laynes oat flat white within 2 hours of arriving felt akin to what I imagine doing hard drugs feels like, a high I was able to sustain for the duration of my time in the North.
We were there to go to a show at the Brudenell, a place I’d not been to since I saw the Vivian Girls there approximately 15 years ago. It felt the same, even if the crowd seemed younger, hipper (I guess I too am older). Wandering through Hyde Park on the way there had been a literal trip down memory lane; there was a huge Norwich exodus to Yorkshire in the 2000s/2010s and I was amazed that I could still point out houses in which several friends had lived many years prior.
The show itself was great; They Are Gutting a Body of Water (TAGABOW) doing exactly what I hoped they’d do, which was remind me why I like going to shows and why live music in and of itself has the power to change the world (or at least make me feel better about things). Short person privilege meant I made it to the front of the circle they’d marked out in front of the stage, on the floor, in gaffer tape. I was wedged between two boys, both taller than me and who’d have barely been toddlers the last time I was in this venue. One of them filmed the whole set with a DV camcorder, and despite the fact that he and everyone else in the venue was capturing the show on both phones and digital cameras, I have still seen only one or two photos or videos from the evening. I am endlessly fascinated by the current analogue backswing, documenting without sharing or digitally archiving. It both compels and drives me totally insane; as I’ve mentioned before, my entire life has been documented online in some capacity. I always presume that this and any kind of documentation will exist somewhere, and I spent days sending myself mad trying to find some piece of footage, any image from the show I know happened because I was there.
When I saw the band again four days later, at the ICA in London, the set-up felt better suited to what it is they do live (playing in a circle). In Leeds, they’d played in front of the stage, part of the crowd instead elevated in that space, looking down toward the rest of the audience. At the ICA, the stage was positioned in the centre of the room, taking advantage of the venue’s 360 spatial sound system. Being 5ft 2 was once again advantageous, and again I was standing next to someone with a 2000s date of birth who had a mini-cam in hand for the duration of the set. The only AAA photographer in the room was someone shooting on what seemed to be a thermal printing camera, long receipt-style paper collecting as they captured more and more images. I wish I’d asked them what they were for: personal posterity, an online blog, maybe a college or university assignment? I would love to see the work in its entirety, but maybe sharing wasn’t the point.
My own phone exists in a state of constant flux; space at a constant premium, I am constantly removing photos, backing them up to a hard drive I look at maybe once a year. I am obsessed with documenting everything, future reference points it’s likely I’ll never revisit, but having them there is what matters. I know I was experiencing the moment, but what use is that without tangible evidence?
TAGABOW rocked, in case it wasn’t obvious, both times. It’s very sick to come to love a band and have them live up to every expectation you’ve set for yourself mentally. It’s rare I experience that at this point, and the relief was palpable by the time their set began for the first time at the Brudenell. I had wanted so badly for it to be good, to be worth the journey and it went beyond that: it was great, it felt euphoric, and it was loud. The ICA felt similar, though atmospherically different (I’ll chalk that up to a North/South divide). My favourite part of that show was when the teen with the camcorder saw Doug appear on stage and remarked to his friend “he’s so much shorter than I thought he’d be”.
Here’s proof of life, of leaving the house, that I was there (two photos I took, in Leeds and London):
(In January and February, I listened to 67 podcasts, watched 51 episodes of television, 21 films, read 11 books, and listened to music by 165 different artists)
Five for January & February 2026:
Film:
We hit 2026 hard on the film front, filling grey days and evenings as much as possible. Some amazing older first watches: All That Heaven Allows, The Man Who Knew Too Much, Night Moves, The American Friend- 1950s and 70s all-timers, great faces in the latter especially (Bruno Ganz and Dennis Hopper, two of my guys). Two music “documentaries”: Jem Cohen’s Instrument about seminal DC band Fugazi, and The Moment, Aidan Zamiri’s look at the life of Charli XCX and ‘brat’- a mockumentary, sure, but one which is both self-aware and knowing about its inspirations (Spice World). Newer releases: I really enjoyed Ira Sach’s Peter Hujar’s Day which did exactly what it said on the tin (it’s a day in the life of photographer Peter Hujar); No Other Choice was interesting but felt long; Hamnet did not work for me though I adored Jesse Buckley’s performance which I think carries the film entirely. I actively hated Wuthering Heights, a real head-empty-no-thoughts (but not in a good way) reimagining of the Bronte classic. I am begging Emerald Fennel to make a good film, something that isn’t hollow like a melting Easter egg.
TV:
An obligatory reference to series 4(!) of BBC’s The Traitors, which once again became appointment viewing in January. I finally finished the last season of Stranger Things (it was fine), and mainlined Netflix’s His & Hers starring Tessa Thompson and Jon Bernthal (the only reason I watched). Both The Pitt and Industry returned, emotionally intense in very differing ways, I blitzed Heated Rivalry (“I am coming to the cottage”, on a constant loop in my head) and I have finally started the Ethan Hawke neo-noir series The Lowdown, actively blushing anytime he appears on screen.
Music:
Converge- a band I have been obsessed with since the age of 14- released their thirteenth studio album ‘Love Is Not Enough’, which I obviously dove into headfirst and fucking love. To me it has big “listen up 5s, a 10 is speaking” energy which is to say: they’re the best at what they do, they’re back in the driver’s seat and we should all pay attention.
Two very sick EPs I have enjoyed: Trauma Ray’s ‘Carnival’ and my friend Mikee’s new band Afraid to Die, who released their 5 song ‘Hell is a Place in My Mind’.
Plus, amongst the endless overplaying of every TAGABOW record: we’re racking up those streams for ‘Big Kiss Goodnight’ by Trapped Under Ice, which I’ve found is the perfect accompaniment to all those runs and workouts I have to force myself through.
Podcasts:
After a long period of being repeatedly asked whether I’d ever listened, I finally gave in and spent some time with Hardlore, hosted by Colin Young of Twitching Tongues/God’s Hate and Bo Lueders from Harm’s Way. Truth be told: it had always been a hard sell to me. Having done my time in the trenches of hardcore, I didn’t know how open I was to enduring yet more conversations between two men about “the scene” and everything within it. And yet! What got me was their best 2000s hardcore band tournament bracket, which immediately threw me back in time and had me thinking about my own rankings, and indeed the sheer breadth of music I listened to during those formative years of (for me) 2003-2009. While I don’t necessarily co-sign the outcome of that episode (I have thoughts; come to my door, I will share them), engaging with the show has sort of aligned with my attempt to re-engage with hardcore more broadly, so it’s been fun, and I’ve especially enjoyed going back through their vast catalogue cherry-picking episodes in which they interview some of my own personal musical heroes (Pat Flynn! Walter Schreifels!). If we went to hardcore together, I think you’d enjoy it too.
Reading:
Linking my GoodReads account here in lieu of listing every single book I’ve finished in the last two months, but things I loved: two autobiographies from cinematic titans (Al Pacino, Abel Ferrara), Perfection by Vincenzo Latronico about two ex-pats living in Berlin and Vigil by George Saunders, which I think ultimately re-treads ground he covered in Lincoln in the Bardo but I’m willing to overlook this given how much I adore his writing. I am still mulling over Night of the Living Rez by Morgan Talty, a series of interconnected short stories about life in a Native community in Maine, which narratively reads more like a novel as it jumps back and forward in time throughout the life of its protagonist, David. I did NOT like Jennette McCurdy’s debut novel Half His Age, at all- deeply naff and something I don’t think would have been published if she wasn’t so beloved.
Very much liked, thank you! =]