about it

Have a good time, then write about it - that's what I figure the best thing to do is.

Last Saturday we blocked traffic down one of Brighton's busiest streets unloading for our session on BBC Introducing. We set up in the BBC shop, at pavement level, looking out into one of the more high-rise, metropolitan areas of our city. Also: people. It was fun, then, to set up and make loud noises whilst being observed like an oddity in a kind of urban zoo. Pedestrians were knocking on the tall panes of glass, smiling, waving, and many would thoughtlessly admire their own reflection before shifting their focus to find a gaggle of hairy men giving them the eyeball. Those were my favourite strangers.
'I can only take two of you into the booth.' was the rather worrying yet disappointing opening statement from our very forgiving host, Phil Jackson. It was democratically decided that myself and Ed were to martyr our reputations as dashing young go-getters to the cause of publicity, revealing our stunted and ragged personalities in the interview that would take place during the show. I was told I answered one of the questions well, but no-one saw the aftermath of that dialogue - my plastic cup, filled with water, shaking like a First National regional service as I tried to wash down the sand that occupied my throat. Ed and I shared a high-five following the interview, because we're cool.
We played three songs live, a delicious buzz of adrenaline fueling each one. Strange to play to an invisible audience, surrounded (being in the BBC shop) only by cut price DVDs of The Catherine Tate show and LazyTown. We weren't bothered, though. Nor did we appear as such.

Then, barely a wink having passed (since the Introducing after party, that is), it was time to hit Hoxton Bar and Kitchen for another Akira gig. Lovely stuff, yet again (it's by far one of our favourite venues) marred only slightly by the absence of Rory, our usual sound engineer and keeper of stagebound sanity. We miss you, Rorhide. Come back soon. The house crew did a top job, though, with metaphorically large shoes to fill. Not much else to say about that. Nice gig. Thanks to those who came down - squeals of approval are always appreciated following a stressful week or two.

Now we look forward to SoundScreen tomorrow (14/4/13) evening, which I hear has sold out, and a Lundun gig on 18/4 at...Old Blue? Is that it? I can't be bothered to look it up now. You do it. And make me a cup of tea. Bla bla bla.

Loads and loads of exciting stuff happening behind the scenes at the moment. We'll keep you up to date when we know what in the heck is going on.

Until then...

Radio killed the internet star.

Hello? Hello?

Ah, there you are.

Good gig the other night at Sticky Mike's in Brighton. Thanks to those who came down! We've been up and down and in and out of, to, and from so many places recently that it was nice to play a lil' half hour set just around the corner. Home in time for Newsnight.

We're practicing this afternoon for our live appearance on BBC Sussex tomorrow evening. 8pm, I believe. You can listen online, if you're outside of the area.

Whenever I've done radio things before, the performances/interviews have always been pre-recorded - all the better to cut out any remarks I might make about...anything. Tomorrow night, though, it seems it's all going out live. I'm arming Seryn with a tranquiliser gun to be pointed at my head throughout the interview, lest any discussion of domestic politics or the illegal snail-fighting industry rear its steaming ugly head from a car parked in a disa... You see what I'm talking about? I can't let myself get sidetracked onto things like that. Stick to the music, Tim. Stick to the subject. Smile with closed lips and sound like you're nodding. Pretend like you're having a good time. Let the sedatives do their work...

So, yeah. Grateful for the opportunity.

We're looking forward to our gig at one of our favourite venues. Should be a mega blast, I tell thee.

And I won't have a microphone anywhere near my face. Something which could be a good or a bad thing, depending on your imagination.

Have a great Friday. Not like last week's, which was merely...

Tim

00:14:59 remaining.

So, we're all famous now, it seems. Something like 50,000 plays on Soundcloud in the last week, No. 2 in the HypeMachine worldwide 'most blogged about songs' chart, a play on BBC introducing, review after review after review... It's,been an interesting few days, I don't mind saying.
So...yes. I give it a week before we're on the cover of 'Good Band magazine' (or whatever's out there at the mo), and performing in specially erected multi-million seat arenas: Trewin abseiling in to play a grand piano made from some platinum-diamond composite, Seryn flying like David Copperfield to each mile high drum-skin, Ed conducting a whole skinny orchestra of slave-played synthesisers, Jeb controlling live glowing bacterial visuals using a five-necked guitar (the power from surrounding towns having been re-routed, despite protests (they always seem to be ignored?)), and me, covered in layers of ham, sat in the corner, bloated purple and violently choking on chewing gum.

One week, I give it.

Thanks to you all for your constant support. The video for Red will 'drop' this month. More goodness. Give up food and upgrade your internet connection. You won't regret it.

We're at Sticky Mike's in Brighton this Weds 3rd April with the awesome Balmorhea. THE FACEBOOK EVENT PAGE

And that's about it for now. There's plenty in my pipeline, and it will all be revealed soon enough.

For now, though, ignoring whether or not that previous sentence was appropriate, just concentrate on having a good bank holiday.

I'll be indoors, feeling gratitude for the good things because, you know, you have to.

Tim

Kickstarter, Amazing Radio, Flu, and an Advent Calendar.

I'm here, isolated, away from the band, away from broad-bean internet, and stuck, immovable, in bed with yet another bout of a particularly icky strain of influenza.

Day 4: The carpet refuses to sing.

From my disadvantage point, then, it's both pleasing and easy to get excited about all the stuff that's happening while doing relatively little of the work involved. I wouldn't have it this way, despite public conception of me as lazy or whatever, but, alas, this is the way it must be. Hold on while I just snuggle deeper into my quilt and quietly sip my tea.

Here is a link to amazing radio, who are currently running a poll to see who gets on their playlist. This wouldn't be a Phoria™ post without asking you to do something now, would it? Click. Vote. Reward: Slice of cake; sense of wellbeing.

Red will be played on their show today.

We're also putting a little bit of stuff up on the Soundcloud, a few jingles here and there, a few jongles fere and ghere, and all-together splitting the atom in the lead up to the Bloodworks release - no longer 8/4/13, but about one month from now, 29/4. We're sorry about that one, folks. Truly. It was unavoidable. What it does mean, though, is that rather than a Christmas day of 8th April, where you gorge yourself on Phoria until your belt bursts and your intestines just explode everywhere and kind of sop out the candles that everyone was enjoying and put that away and go to bed. And leave your teddy-bear somewhere where I can see it...

Instead of that you get a kind of exciting Phoria advent calendar. I envision it as a giant picture of my face, each adolescent blemish providing a doorway to a delicious treat of one type or another.

'Mummy! Mummy! What will Phoria give to us today?!'
'Well, my child - just open up one of Tim's facial wounds and find out! Wear your protective kevlar mask!'

That's just my vision of it all. The powers that be insisted we go through the more traditional YouTube, facebook, online media channels, etc.

Anyway - it's all done (the final master was delivered this morning), it's all coming out, it's all ready to be fired into your skulls using computer guns...

...and (FADE IN: Bryan Adams) we couldn't have done it without everyone's support, particularly through the Kickstarter campaign, which ends today, and which has exceeded our goal and our honest expectations and even Seryn's dreams.

I'm not often honest (that's a lie), but I tell the truth when I say...

...I'm off to Mexico.

Srsly.

Tim.

P.S. Actually actually thank you all very much for your support. It means a lot, and we all really appreciate it.

P.P.S. At time of posting this came up! Something I meant to mention, but didn't. Imagine me on one knee, begging forgiveness. That's what I'm doing right now. Cool though, eh?

The Master.

We do what The Master tells us we must. When The Master is speaking, all doors are closed and conversation dies. The Master promises greatness. We must obey the aural whim of The Master.

We're making a few tweaks to the latest master of Bloodworks. Unfortunately this fact, along with one or two other spanners in the toilet, means we're pushing the official release date back by about two weeks. Take that look of shock and utter disbelief off your face - those of you who have been with us from the start should know better by now. Those of you who are new: Welcome. This is how it is. Ask the older kids for advice.

Still, the tracks should shortly be returning to our Soundcloud (not too sure when, but very soon), all fresh and sexy sounding. It's difficult to link to Soundcloud on a phone, so google it (exactly why is it not in your bookmarks?) then click and share our Kickstarter, which, and do not ask why, is very easy for me to link to. Why, it's so easy, you could even link it to your friends and family! Easy, convenient, affordable, fun for adults and children alike! Get yours now!

What have we been up to? We spent last Saturday in a warehouse with a very brave model, a thermometer reading that merited a concerned phone call from Pingu (though I think he was just trying to get in on the act - he hasn't had any TV work for years. I hear he was trying to avoid being typecast.), and a very powerful pressure washer. Red music video. That was fun. Ed and I were in charge of the ambient music. My favoured track? Travis's Why does it always rain on me?

From that day on, then, it's been a mixture of blind panic and editing. Trewin and Jeb are taking our other model, Gab, down to some seaside location today to get a couple more shots and we're practicing tonight in prep for our Wednesday gig at The Old Queen's Head in Lundun on Wednesday at The Old Queen's Head in Lundun (Phoria gig, Lundun, T.O.Q.H) at The Old Queen's Head. We've also been liaising with some great visual artists with whom we'll be collaborating at next month's SoundScreen festival at Brighton Dome studio. Should be a larf. It all looks very promising indeed.

That's Munday, then. Newsy. No jokes. Goodbye.

Tim 

P.S. Please do what The Master says, and spread it around again. We need one last big push in this last week to take us over the edge! The edge of glory! Sung by Lady Babar, the French elephant popstar king.

I'm not even going to leave. I'm going to wait here until you share that link. Tum tee tumm.

*whistles*

*hums Antiques Roadshow theme*

I'll be here.

Audio-Retinal Sensory Experience.

Yesterday (Friday) was day one of filming for the Red music video.
So, of course, Thursday night...who should receive a mysterious telephone call?
'Mr. Douglas?' The voice on the other end of the line was stern and betrayed a lack of empathy for the sleeping patterns of others, particularly members of the band with cars.
'There's something we need you to do for us...'
And so the next morning I bounded gleefully from my front door before the sun could make its predictable appearance, heading into the heart of London to pick up a 'special' camera that can film back in time, or something.

My battered old car finally shuddered its way to the shooting location at around 11am. Fresh from a caffeine-free cruise through the capital rush hour and a long and winding jaunt to this industrial part of the East Sussex coast, I was met by Jeb, Trewin, cameraman Thom and our brave model Gab in howling winds and stinging, pindrop rain. I hadn't one leg out of the door before I was soaked through and frozen, and was met mostly with the downtrodden glare and grunt of people 'at work'.
'Camera? Ugh.'
It was like delivering a precious nut to a group of squirrels. I thought I was about to offer the cargo in my outstretched hand, but upon looking I saw that it had already gone, and the gang were already in the van, poring over its every detail and wondering where best to bury it for winter. Jeb shook his hair around, and we filmed it.
'Oooooh. That is well cool.'

Step two, then, without giving too much away, was to slap bits of wet fabric onto Gab, the insane fool who volunteered to stand on this freezing quayside in nothing but skin thin bits of muslin, and also to jump off it into the raging waters below. The wind was acting as a call to freedom for the smaller portions of Gab's new suit, so it was deemed necessary that I drive to the nearest superstore and pick up a little PVA glue, all the better to stick the little blighters to the body hair of our shivering volunteer.
'Anything else?' I inquired.
'Whisky.' Gab replied.

Filming resumed, Ed turned up. We sat in the van and smoked, drove around the quayside looking for locations, said hello to a fisherman, and ate sweets. Our manager and resident restorer-o'-sanity Ciara arrived at around three with sandwiches, crisps, and, most importantly, oh, how most importantly, the means to make hot tea.

The remaining hours were the most productive, and most pleasing for the technicians; full of food and, if you'll excuse yet love the pun (bun), on a roll.

The day ended hurriedly. Not an unpleasant situation for someone who wanted to curl up in bed since the moment he woke up. Jeb and Thom were off to see Sigur Rós in London, Ed had...something to do, and Gab was heading home for a 'warm bath'. Good call, Gab. Good call.

Tim

There's literally no good title for this post.

It's difficult to put everything together in some easily digestible round up of what we've been doing for the last week or two.

The hard drive arrived back at mine, safe and sound. The incantations worked, it seems.

Jeb's got an avalanche of stuff to be dealing with right now. Two different recorded live performances are being edited - one at Brighton Electric and the other at Hoxton Bar & Kitchen. I don't usually get to see much stuff as it goes through the mill, as I tend to catch up with people during a practice or over a drink but rarely sit around in the Phoria tech-zone while new footage is being tested or audio tweaked and twisted. We spent a long time a couple of evenings ago re-aligning audio to video by one single frame to get the best sync.
'Does that look right?'
'No, look at his leg.'
'Yeah but maybe his leg's out of time.'
'Alright put it back one.'
'...no, that doesn't look right.'
'His leg does.'

Also Red, as if you're not yet sick of seeing it in italics, has been working a wicked influence on the world. The video's on the way (more work, JEBBY!) and there are one or two little niggles with the release that's changed the shape of fingernails throughout the band. Everything's going to be fine, we're sure. I can see the song living in some little songy dimension, reclining in its big wheely leather chair and laughing as it throws its head back, fingers splayed vertically with touching tips. Everything's going to be fine, we're sure. Genuinely. I have to make that clear - we're just so excited about releasing it that every day it's not officially released is painful.

Otherwise we've been booking gigs (yaaay!), practicing, emailing, sorting. There's been a lot of office work this week.

OH and a photoshoot! How did I forget the photoshoot?! New pictures of me, you lucky people. There's lots of work with silhouette and light and stuff, which means you can't really see my face. That's alright, though - I'm launching my own brand of correction fluid pen, so you can just scrawl my collector's item of a frontispiece onto any shadowy image you like. Improve your art's aesthetic qualities AND improve the value and desirability of your home, with...whatever. My face in Tim-ex, I guess. I don't know.

All this stuff is slated for this month. We'll let you know.

So, Sunday. Strong coffee and a concession to mindless television, I think. That ought to do us good.

Have fun, whatever you're up to.

Tim

Post Rock.

I've just been out to post an external hard drive to Lundun, so that the good people who recorded our show last week can send us the videos without breaking the internet.

Having just got back in and having had my afternoon plans cancelled at short notice, I thought I'd be really, really kind to you all and share my irrational fear of the Post Office.

I don't know why, but it makes me uncomfortable that one has to 1) hand an object to a stranger who grins at you from behind shatterproof glass (or otherwise slide it into one of those looming tubular satanic mouths), and then 2) no-one you know sees or hears it until the other side, when it magically appears through a gap in a door. While the thinking part of my head does know that there are a million processes and sorting procedures (and postal workers, each of whom I love dearly) that each troubadourial little object must go through, it seems that the part of my brain that is supposed to turn that fact into a piece of readily intelligible knowledge just skips past it, like a trailer on a DVD, and leaves a gaping void that my idle mind fills with images of my own violent death. So, I know that Johnny Depp will play Ian Eccentric in The Oversaturated Adventure, but I cannot tell you anything about the film's premise - leading to uncertainty, and therefore (naturally) my confusion, panic, and crushing alienation when I am handing over my money to see the film; meanwhile I don't know what I'm even doing in the cinema, and who are you?
To put it another way: I feel like I'm handling Schrödinger's cat. I have the cat, and then when I post the cat it exists in a kind of superposition until it miaows safely (or not) at the other end. It's my unwilling but forced confrontation of this kind of phenomenon that eers me.

I have tried forming a support group, but I have no idea how to distribute the leaflets.

Oh yeah, the band.

We're fine. Plugging away! The team is getting bigger - fans as well as those who appear above us, keeping us on course. Which is nice. Lawyers, agents, etc. etc. I wonder when our feet will start to burn.

Trewin and Jeb are currently bawling through the night trying to make the video for our first single Red, which we're trying to release proper next month. It's nice to be in a band where all this stuff is done in-house, as it were. They rejected my concept for the video on grounds of speculative extra-terrestrial biology. Ho-hum.

All this video stuff (Red, live recordings, Seryn Burden Nights) should be with you soon. I don't know when. Ask Jeb. Go on. Ask him. Go on. Do it. Go on. Ask him.

There's a lovingly made fan video for Red on our facebook feed. Check it out! Things like that make us smile like little children who have just seen Santa surfing on a lake of spaceships.

As always, stay warm and dry. I'll be huddled beside my front door, chanting, waiting for her to vomit paper.

Tim.

Van Halen's tiny sleigh.

Valentine's day, eh? That should be enough to bump us up a few google rankings. Now let's leave it there.
Tuesday night (Bloodworks launch party at Hoxton Bar & Kitchen) was a bloomin' banger! Thanks of course to Akira for having us, and thanks to Apollo, the God of music and medicine, among other things, for whatever and all the music and medicine. Kickstarter. Thanks to the other bands, too. Ed Prosek. Halflight. Hollow giants. Oh, and thanks to you intensely attractive fan people for coming down to check it all out and making loads of noise and heat radiation.
The gig was filmed, so hopefully some footage should emerge, in time. 
Let's all have fun and a great day. I'm going to push my camel of a brain through the needle eye of the after-party aftermath, and try to avoid anything related to FAILentine's day ('That is a great pun, Tim.' 'Yeah thanks I already know.') by locking myself inside a giant heart shaped greeting card (with real blood!), eating opportunistically priced chocolates bought in a forgetful haste from my local newsagent, and gifting that girl who keeps hanging around my face a bunch of near-dead wasp-magnets pinched from a petrol station forecourt.

Hope my great plan works and succeeds!

Tim

P.S. If YOU would like gifts and public displays of affection etc. from us/me then you don't have to do much. Just look at and share THIS. Please! Thank you! Sharing remains the key indicator of caring, as my Children's Book of Marxist Theory: Abridged Edition attests.

A live rock concert is happening tonight in Hoxton featuring the band Phoria which is us.

We're currently sat in Hoxton Bar & Kitchen which is based, surprisingly, in that savvy part of London known as Hoxton. Hoxton Square, to be more Hoxtonly precise.
We're huddled around a table looking forward to the gig, but I'm mostly looking forward to everyone throwing their lattés down their trousers and desisting in their reference to that fact that I am currently, as they put it, 'blogging'. That word sounds horrible being shouted loudly in a 'trendy' bar. It sounds horrible being used in any situation ever.
So, I'm going to stop doing it now, and only bid you a good night and suggest that, if you're local and free, you come down here to join us for a drink and a gig.
Oh, you're busy? Well...maybe next time? No. No, I understand. I guess I'll see you around, then.

Restraining order? Oh.

Tim

P.S. Onstage at 2130ish. Do come down, if the courts allow it.

He's alright, really.

There's not a lot to tell, in truth, except that The Snot has got me. And Seryn. Though I suspect that little drummer boy is just copying me. If the Kickstarter campaign spreads as efficiently as this, we'll end up restabilising the economy. That's right. Satirical bloggy.

SeaMonsters last Saturday was a grand auld laugh I don't mind saying. Hotter than our Kickstarter campaign (piping hot like some hot water! YOWZER!) and full to the brim (like a hot pan! CHUNGLIES!) with delightful people. All the bands were great, though I'm disappointed to have ended up missing The Physics House Band, as the jelly filled body from which I'm currently suffering kicked in and, instead of having a rocking good prog-out, I went and sat in Brighton station with that girl who keeps hanging around my house just so I'd have somewhere quiet to practically collapse (unlike our Kickstarter campaign, which is far from collapsing. Unless you use the phrase collapsingly good, in which case it is that). I have a particular fondness for train stations. Does anyone else have a particular fondness for train stations? I can't tell if it's a result of a childhood weened on Thomas the Tank Engine or my affinity for suspicious business practices.

So, 8th April has been confirmed as the release date for the EP. There's not much to say about that, really. I hope it'll be a nice day. Springtime. Hay fever.

I'll be spending today in bed, again, probably reading some arseholish tome and whistling a chirpy tune to myself to keep my spirits up ('Do you like my song, WALLS OF MINE?'). Seryn will inevitably be doing the same, now that he knows what I'm up to. I'm thinking of submitting him as an example of quantum entanglement.

We'll be well enough for 12th Feb, though! Hoxton Square Bar and Kitchen! We're well excited for this one. Check our facebook for links to cheap tickets etc.

It is Saturday, so, as always, have fun, stay well, and beware of all other humans: virus carrying opportunists that they are. You know who I'm talking about. Seryn.

Happy Saturday,

Tim

P.S. ...please share it. We really do kinda need it.