In not much of an order, they are all brilliant and make me happy for 2011. I will also add the production of most of these music videos blow me away too.All are singles or the best part of an album released this year.

Lykke Li got a LOT of approval so that undoubtedly pips the post.

I await to hear if you love or hate my choices. I made some difficult cuts. Enjoy the playlist. : )

1. Lykke Li – Youth Knows No Pain
2. Adele – Someone Like You
3. Amanda Palmer – In My Mind
4. Ed Sheeran – You Need Me, I Don’t Need You
5. Evanescence – Lost In Paradise
6. Bon Iver – For Emma
7. Funeral For A Friend – Medicated
8. Hard-Fi – Excitement
9. Kelly Clarkson – Mr. Know It All
10. Matt Cardle – Walking On Water
11. Pete and the Pirates – Come To The Bar
12. Snow Patrol – This Isn’t Everything You Are
13. Pitbull – Give Me Everything ft. Ne-Yo, Afrojack, Nayer
14. Rise Against – Help Is On The Way
15. The Joy Formidable – A Heavy Abacus
16. White Lies – Bigger Than Us
17. Kasabian – Days Are Forgotten
18. Days Difference – Down With Me
19. Patrick Wolf – Together
20. Lady Gaga – The Edge of Glory
21. M83 – Midnight City
22. Florence + The Machine – Shake It Out
23. Surfer Blood – Floating Vibes
24. Laura Marling – Rest In The Bed

http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2C243E182FC7B09E

…and…

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL MY LOVELY READERS !

The story of graduate Liam (Michael) and post-graduate Kris (Kris Wood) in their mid-20s working in a comic book shop is set with layers of references to the comic-world (Marvel or DC? You’ll have to figure that out yourself) as they are stuck on the verge of growing up and face the ultimate question of our prime:

Liam: Who’d want to leave a world where a gorilla can fly a spaceship in a race around the universe? I meant here; it’s not exactly a proper job, is it?

It’s Avenue Q for today’s recession-gripped fans of Tottenham Court Road. But it’s less Broadway and more broad strokes on a canvas of comic quips, fantasies and imaginative insults. The jabs at adults are subtle; a customer’s challenge that her work involves real words like ‘synergy’ goes by unchallenged while Kris defends comics. The script is funny with or without knowledge of comics.

Just when you think two guys can’t maintain this brilliance forever, new characters burst forth – the exuberant (recently sacked) friend Liz (Sandy Jarvis) who crashes the store and won’t leave. And, later on, Adrian (Daniel Farley) bursts in with a deep-voiced, verbose and masculine stride and grand poetry rolls off his tongue as he speaks. This inevitably sets his exuberant eloquence up for a fall as he fails to come up with a basic comic book plot off the cuff. He is style, very sexual and strident style, without much substance.

The irrepressible and over-enthusiastic-inevitably-disappointed Liam with floppy hair and even floppier movement is always at the ‘light bulb moment’ of his life but struggles with the execution – the filling up of pages to write a great comic, the action to come out of the hole where (in his comic) he hides, terrified, surrounded by the more powerful villains that he can’t possibly overcome. The demons of his past, his life, his ex-girlfriend (I wonder if there are 7 of them?)

It’s not writer’s block, though, just page fright.

Movements sometimes louder than words in Stand-Up Comics

Liam’s solution is to avoid that comic (with Kris as artist) and run off to start a new one with Ashlynn (Natalie Martins). Is this avoiding our story when we don’t like it to re-write another one (which will inevitable run into the same blocks further down) or is it moving on from a lesser idea to a more profound one? Isn’t that life’s big question about the choices we face and the pain of change?

Since then, Kris feels less of a man – he can no longer summon up imaginative insults like he used to.

They are waiting for Godot in a comic book store – waiting to be inspired, to write, to change jobs, to know what to do with your life. Waiting for Ash? The ashes of the old, the destruction of friendships and criticisms of ideas required to create something new; the ashes where the phoenix will arise.

Kris: He thinks he’s better than me. The other day I pitched a comic idea about a guy with a lion for a chest – and he asked me what the “point” of it was. Not everything needs some deep and meaningful point like his and Ashlynn’s little, indie art jam.”

The celebration of the pointless and random makes the play so utterly relevant and brilliant.

The play is bursting with such beautiful dialogue it is hard to imagine the characters’ lives are as empty as they say they are. They rapidly race through a script that totally relies on the comedy of painstaking timing – and I mean painstakingly physical bumps and knocks endured (mainly by Liam). The play opens with him tripping over the doorway to land face-down on the stage and sets up the expert use of stage and props – Liam leans over a table and Kris holds his leg, Liam jumps on Kris to reach the higher shelves and plenty of stunts where they seem to not see each other but manage to bump into or hit each other at exactly the right time for comic effect…

Liam v.s. Liz - a show down in Stand-Up Comics

…to the show down between Liam and Liz in a duel to decide whether she has to leave. She doesn’t, of course, she is too valuable – she counters the boys’ geek-talk with over-girly silliness.

Liam presents very important questions: How can you move forward surrounded by villains you can’t overcome? Why do they call it writer’s block when there’s no physical block?

And do superheroes take costumes to a specialist (and discreet) dry-cleaners?

Kris: SO you’re asking if I, as an adult, ever spend a significant amount of time dwelling on whether fictional characters have to take their fictional clothes to a make believe dry cleaners?”
Liam: Yes.
Kris: No, I haven’t.

…Fly-cleaners? (That’s actually quite good.)

It is a play that is fun, witty, and reverent to the comic book fantasy world – but touches on the multitude of things that confuse and paralyse us. An archetypal angel, new girl Ash, appears (with wings and everything) to ride into Liam’s life and inspire him – “she’s my muse” – and ultimately teach him the fine, fine line between love and a waste of time. For there is nothing outside of ourselves that we don’t need; the comic book store isn’t so bad after all; and, as the play explains itself; “those caballeros and castaways we stumble upon and surround ourselves with, who we invariably make fun of, could be the best thing to ever happen to us.”

Moshing to *that* metal mayhem, crying over *that* beautiful ballad, chilling to *those* astral acoustics or, perhaps, clubbing to *that* cream?

I want to make the ultimate 2011 playlist – to ruthlessly cull the best of this year’s songs down to 20.

But I need your help.

Here’s my playlist as it stands:

I’ll listen to you, Beatwolf readers, and you alone. I will let YOU order this playlist to YOUR recommendations, votes or abuse (go for it) by your comments on this article or, you can go to the list on YouTube and like the videos, or on Facebook or Twitter.

Best song this year? Is it there? If so, I’ll bump it up the playlist order. If it’s not there, tell me, and I’ll add it on.

And that’s not all, just wait until the 30th December…

On the 30th December, I will ruthlessly cull every single song under the 20th mark. Like brushing away the snow to reveal buried treasure, we will then reveal The Official Top 20 of 2011 – and your number one.

I will also include notable comments, wit or abuse (go for it) in my story of how we got there.

START PLAYING!

Hello.

I realise this blog has been through the internet equivalent of the long Dark Ages without a post for nearly 3 months. I will understand if I have completely lost your interest, compassion and loyalty for the heinous social media crime of not updating you on anything.

I was alive. Thanks for asking.

AND I AM WRITING A PLAY!

It’s about a journalist with an existential career crisis flirting with a waitress.

I knew you’d love it!

It’ll go to a production company in AUCKLAND once it’s written. But if you get any more excited it might be dangerous so I’ll tell you now I haven’t nearly finished.

It was a teaser to see if you were awake.

Now, while I have the rapt attention of one media-savvy, trend-setting, sophisticated and extremely attractive reader (that’s you)…

I’m in London, I completed the NCTJ in Multimedia Journalism in July and it’s been over a year since I did this. Thank you, but congratulations aren’t quite in order; it’s been two years since my 2:1 BA but I do not (yet) have anything with resembles a first job in journalism. (Psst – can you help me with that?)

 ~

I have now officially hit the 6 month mark of in-house and freelance experience reporting, writing, sourcing stories and taking photos or illustrating my work in the world of arts journalism (music, film news, reviews and features), local news (West London, Enfield, Hillingdon, and, at the very beginning, Auckland in New Zealand), politics, and the odd bit of news-writing satire.

That’s without the 70 posts and dedication (no, not recently, but there’s a lot here ok?) to this blog, student journalism at Nottingham way back in 2008 and a school mag in 2005.

Since July, I’ve had 1 face-to-face interview and timed written test (this week! my first!! they are still deciding eek!!!). I’ve done 2 phone interviews, almost 70 job applications (cover letter, CV + samples/links), 2 speculative letters and, meanwhile, approached 5 office-work agencies. I’ve pitched 5 things to publications (even follow-ups were ignored; awkward). It might not sound like a lot, but that’s between temping full time at an office, then retail, and now a new one.

I also have a personal life, with relationships and a family and everything. To be honest, I’m surprised I’ve kept hold of them through the uncertainty. If they are reading this; thank you.

I went for a job interview for a hard-sales role the other week. It’s not quite journalism. I had to question – can I justify a wage if I don’t strive to *make* a business *more* money by selling?

Yes, I can. Because I make the thing of value.

I love the stories behind the facts; the people behind the interviews; the creative processes behind the ideas; the inspiration that shows on the page. I like being absolutely spot-on right. My opinions are logical, my arguments are sound and I am sympathetic and thoughtful. I know Photoshop. I do SEO, CMS and bits of sub-editing for print/online very efficiently. I can produce more articles or find more stories or talk to more contacts or have more ideas than anyone else (I love competition, ask anyone) or simply engage more readers (I know what they like, I am one too) and give things a dose of quirky personality. I come bearing intelligence, creativity and an academic 2:1 in English and Philosophy from New Zealand’s top University.

I want to write more poetry.

Not the journalist you are looking for?

I contribute to Beatwolf and The West Londoner in my (not very much) spare time with loyalty from the start. They are growing online in readership, revenue and reputation and I’d say that has a lot to do with me.

But I haven’t been doing much of that recently.

I’ve been temping a lot in a nice, respectable job. A man (da) can not live on journalism alone.

What I’ve seen of journalism so far… has left a bad taste in my mouth. Like the U2 song. Exactly like that.

See, at 24 years old, between trying to convince my Mum that journalism is not a laughable career and my debt degree in English and Philosophy was worth it, I am not entirely convinced where this is going.

So, that’s me.

Now, tell me about yourself. About me. About career existentialism.

Jason Brooks' stylish Sylvie at Vogue.co.uk

Artist Jason Brooks’ stylish Sylvie illustration for Vogue’s Art in Fashion is sold at Vogue.co.uk

Size: 42 x 30 cm

Medium: Ink and metallic card on paper

Buy for: £2,000 + VAT.

That’s £2,000 + VAT.

Seriously? I do sketches like that in half an hour with a pencil and marker pen. Size: 21 x 29 cm.

In fact, I just did:

Amanda Leek's Sylver

Who’s buying?

…Commissioning?

For that price, I’ll deliver the signed original mounted on metallic card, framed and on a velvet cushion.

Email me: aleek@myway.com

The day after, I interviewed people for a story that never got published.

Here is their story.

~

A shopper, 26, was in Enfield Town’s Superdrug as rumours of riots spreading to Wood Green and Turnpike Lane after Tottenham were buzzing in the air and online.

At 2pm, police appeared and told shop managers to close their stores and clear the area for 4pm.

She said: “The police told the shopkeepers to close the shops, and the shop keepers told us to make our way home, because they were expecting trouble. They got their information from Twitter, apparently.”

At 6pm, a pensioner returning home in a taxi felt something wasn’t quite right with the town she knows so well.

She said: “I had no idea I was so close to the riots! But it was unusually crowded for a Sunday evening and the atmosphere was heavy. It felt weird, different.

I told the driver I would walk from down my road. When I neared my house, I saw two boys in tracksuits in the way. They made me feel frightened anyway and I almost wanted to warn an elderly lady coming towards them. I slowly crossed the road to avoid them. Their faces weren’t covered and they didn’t have hoodies, but they did seem restless and waiting for something. One of them was hopping and on off the pavement.”

Enfield Town's deserted shopping centre, 4pm, Tuesday 9th.

A 20-year-old returning from work to his home in a small side street near to Enfield Town Station tells how terrified he was:

“I was on the bus around 6pm and saw a large number of youths in black or dark hoodies done up the nose, so all you could see were their eyes. I had to walk past the station because the bus wouldn’t go to the town. When I got home I watched from my window. Some of them had Halloween masks on to disguise their identity – it’s terrifying that they had to cover themselves up so much because of what they were doing.

“Throughout the night, I heard police helicopters constantly from about 7pm. The noise was deafening, the helicopters were so low I thought they were going to land on the roof. The sirens were heard on and off, as if they got to one place and quickly moved on as rioters scattered. On the BBC website, it said rioters were scattering into alleyways – they meant my road as well. Youths were running back and forth outside my house, it was confusing, and I saw groups herded out with police following and youths were throwing things at police. The police closed off one end of my road to stop people escaping and the helicopters had flashlights scanning the ground nearby.

“I heard a wall from someone’s garden in a nearby street was knocked down to get the bricks and throw them at police. It was probably true as I saw yellow dust and bits and pieces of bricks across the ground on the way to work the next day.

“It must have been a lot of people, I didn’t imagine so many violent people lived or came here. I saw a couple of them my age but most of them looked 17, or younger – some of them must have been about 12. I didn’t go outside, after seeing Tottenham on TV the night before I didn’t fancy my chances, but some residents did go out to look. One neighbour got in his car and just drove off. It was terrifying – I’ve never seen anything like it.

“The first I heard was the jewellery shop had been attacked and they scattered when police arrived, and then it seemed to happen everywhere else. I don’t think I’ve been so terrified in my own home before – there was just no safety.”

http://www.guardian.co.uk/video/embed

Rioters, pushed back along Southbury Road by police, returned to Enfield Town centre around 8:50pm according to local news reports. Riot police were seen guarding Enfield Town Station and a police car was pelted with bricks in Church Street.

8:52pm: “pictures of rioters looting the HMV store have been posted on the internet”.

Buses were diverted, trains to Enfield Town were cancelled… and an Enfield taxi firm closed at 9pm.

The manager said: “My staff were so scared I had no choice but to close the office. I took calls from remote access but my drivers would not go near Enfield Town all night.

“We were in the office until 9pm – we saw enough. We saw kids who looked 8 or 9 years old looting boxes of TVs and goods and running to waiting cars with what must have been their parents, their mums. We saw kids with boxes waiting for the bus. It was so stupid, it was unbelievable.

“Politicians may talk about human rights of protestors, but how about the human rights of ordinary people? The police can’t do enough when they don’t have the power of law behind them.

“It was a mix of black and white, adults and kids, it wasn’t a riot – it was total looting. It was organised thieving. I’ve never seen it in Enfield before.”

HMV, Enfield Town, on Tuesday 9th.

So where was I?

I was at the Camden Fringe on Sunday night with my cousin. I came out of the show at 9:30pm to see worried texts from my mum insisting I get a taxi all the way home. Checking my cousin’s trusty Blackberry, the official BBC news seemed unusually quiet… while Twitter was abuzz and compounding with tweets every 30 seconds with frequent updates and information about Enfield Town and the Enfield Retail Park shops being ransacked, burned and looted. While a lot of tweets were backed up by photos, references and local or national news journalists, there were equally many wildfire rumours. Nevertheless, the rumour that there was a news blackout only spread because the news reports were a couple of hours behind Twitter.

I decided not to gamble on a journey home and, going home with my cousin instead, I avoided London altogether. I was on my way out of the city by midnight when the hashtag #Enfield was trending worldwide on Twitter and Paul Lewis at The Guardian was a notable one of many journalists covering the biggest news story that headlined out all the way to the New Zealand Herald within a matter of hours and, at its centre, was my nearest town.

The official Metropolitan Police statement on Monday (published with permission) said:

“Police are tonight responding to copycat criminal activity across London and are deploying officers to tackle it.

There has been looting in a number of boroughs in north, east and south London by small and mobile groups. Groups of youths continue to attack police officers and a number of police vehicles have been damaged.”

Commander Christine Jones said: “This is a challenging situation with small pockets of violence, looting and disorder breaking out in a number of boroughs.”

She added: “Officers are once again putting themselves in harm’s way to arrest those responsible and prevent further action. I am proud of their dedication and bravery.

“I, along with a vast majority of Londoners, condemn this mindless criminality. It serves no purpose and only results in the destruction of people’s livelihoods and communities.”

Attacks on police officers and vehicles, looting and disorder through Enfield Town Centre, Enfield Retail Park and Chingford Mount, Waltham Forest, Walthamstow, Brixton and Oxford Circus that night is being investigated under the protest and riots of the night before in Tottenham. The Metropolitan police had increased police numbers and help from Kent, Surrey and Thames Valley police on the night.

Returning home on Monday to a flatmate thankful for my safety and with a handful of interviews that didn’t make the local or national news I decided to leave it there.

I’m not Mark Stone at Sky News. This is:

The second day on experience at my local newspaper, I was called out to report on a first horrific and fatal crash. It was tough.

I was called in the middle of an interview for an inspiring story, the kind I had done before. I was feeling good and leapt at the chance. I caught a bus to the scene and interviewed witnesses and saw photos. Help was too late to save a driver’s life.

It was going to be a front page story.

But my writing was terrible. I wrote value judgments and odd sentences, the quotes were silly, and I let emotional attachment affect the copy.

And, I missed a BLINDINGLY OBVIOUS legal issue.

I got an A in my Essential Law exam, for god’s sake.

Oh, and adjectives in the first par a la the Reporting exam is bad journalistic practise.

I can take the red lines across my copy and I appreciate the feedback. I’m learning.

But what disappointed me was that I knew what I should have done.

It was part of the the NCTJ I passed last week.

It was the first story I submitted. I know it was unusually stupid. But it was the only copy the editor saw.

I look stupid from the start.

I learned a lot. I learned too much.

I started to doubt myself. I haven’t thought so much about journalism since, well, since I thought of it in the first place.

I was given another sensitive story to do. Every week is a new deadline.

And I am determined you will see it in the newspaper.

Formulated idea for report when a fox bit an exchange student in his bed and the Urban Fox sculpture on South Bank raised questions about ownership of space and survival in the city.

Took on the role of audio, lighting, cameraman, reporter, editor and producer, making the 2:19 minute news report entirely myself.

Conducted filmed interviews, vox pops and footage of foxes and edited to final cut.

Within 4 weeks I barely knew how to operate the camera to this.

Quite proud but I’m learning so I appreciate criticism, advice or impression. After all, you’ll be seeing more video journalism from me and I’d like it to be good.

I’m just waiting for the grade…

Sixth Form, study leave, my bedroom: My eyes would drift to the street where the routines of people walking and talking past would become as familiar as friends.

Now?

I open up Facebook.

I gaze through the window. It gives me some enjoyment and amusement to see which friends are there right now. I can holler out a comment from my observation point and make them look. The giggles and squeals of me playing with friends there an hour or so earlier still rings in my ears.

The relentless likes and impulsive comments of a well-timed status, the depths of longing at the lack of midnight notifications, all lure me into a lull of comforting clicks. Key holes into other peoples’ lives. The forbidden fruit of distorted distraction proves seductive.

I have things to do with my life.

I haven’t called a friend in ages. It’s a social life of sorts becoming active, aggressively active, on Facebook. There’s an art to announcements. There’s a grandiose ego involved.

But eventually I feel lonely.

These are not my friends. These are holograms, illusions, projections. The garden looks like fun but it isn’t real. I am fooled again by tricks of the light where the ghosts of friends leave wisps of half-baked ideas.The reciprocation of conversation is never as fulfilling as it is in real life.

If I reach out to these wisps they disappear. It snaps me out of my reverie when I realise that the person I say goodbye to was never actually there. I just thought they were.

Am I crazy?

A Facebook profile shows everything – except whether that person is real or fake.

And if I stay too long I forget the difference.

A *vain* attempt at humour.