Sister Spit: the Next Generation

Coming soon to a dive near you.... and quite a few salubrious venues it's the notorious Sister Spit: the Next Generation on their EuroTrash 2009 tour. Nice.

What I know of Sister Spit is entirely second-hand as this women's spoken word tour developed after I left San Francisco in the mid 1990s. But, I can fully imagine how such a project could spring from SF, which had an active spoken word scene of various genders and sexualities. And the legendary Kris Kovick, who staged many performances at Red Dora's, participated in their tours. So, the quality should be cherce.

It's almost eight years since I last saw Kris, then very ill with cancer, shortly before her death in autumn 2001. I remember her brimming with wisecracks, as she shuffled around her flat in Norwich Street plying me with goodies to take on my flight. It's a memory that stays with me. Alison Bechdel published a typically witty memorial last year.

As for Sister Spit: TNG, it promises a lineup of "zinesters, fashion plates, novelists, performance artists, slam poets and fancy scribblers" promoting alternative culture and raising hell across the UK and Europe throughout September.

Up Your Ears

Word reaches me today of an exciting queer music festival coming up in September in Berlin: Up Your Ears.

Among the bands playing are East London's own long-time DIY agitators, Gertrude, plus a Leipzig band I quite enjoyed some months back: sleazy, inc. operated. So, two good reasons to check it out.

The workshop programme includes Travel Queeries honcha Elliat Graney-Saucke's guide to producing your own radio podcasts, which I would definitely check out, were I there. A full programme for Up Your Ears is online now.

Amid the excitement of such an undertaking is the alarming news that Schwarzer Kanal, which is hosting the festival, has received an eviction notice for the end of the year. A one-of-a-kind queer collective wagon space, SK sits on a prime location that is due to be developed, as onward marches Kreuzberg gentrification. I only visited the site briefly during Ladyfest a few years back but, during a rather over-long discussion, I found it quite impressive.

A meeting about the eviction will take place during the festival, but interested parties are asked to contact SK at schwarzerkanal@squat.net with the heading "verteiler".

'80s Flashback: Pat Benatar

Ah, Pat. I sometimes flash back to my MTV teen past and wonder what I was thinking.

But, as a fellow Noo Yawker, I have a soft spot for Ms Benatar, now recognised as a feminist heroine. On tour with Blondie! How cool is that? Makes a weird kind of sense. There are parallels to be drawn between Debbie + Chris and Pat + Neil. Plus, they were both on Chrysalis. But do, we really need the Debbie Harry Barbie doll??? Please. Someone's 'avin' a laugh.

Here's Pat Benatar's classic "Love Is A Battlefield", complete with triumphal group dance at dawn on the mean streets of LA. I was very excited when the song came in at #14 for the year. Along with "She Works Hard for the Money", this was the closest to a feminist statement that could be viewed on MTV in those days, and so was to be cherished.

The Art of LiLiPUT re-posted

One very pleasing episode in my quest to document every great women band ever was a whistle-stop visit to lovely Zurich to visit three alumna from post-punk art rockers Kleenex/LiLiPUT. Marlene Marder, Lislot Ha and Klaudia Schiff gathered at the latter's house for dinner and a chat, which I hope to publish in full at some point.

Though the band broke up years ago, they are fondly remembered and have had a compilation out on Kill Rock Stars, thus uniting them with their spiritual offspring.

Kleenex/LiLiPUT were often associated (though not necessarily by choice) with visual art, whether the Junge Wilde or the Dadaists. Here they discuss the band's connection with the art scene.

Kleenex und Kunst from Val Phoenix on Vimeo.

These days band activity is a bit sporadic. They have compiled a film from old tour footage, but it is not clear whether this will be released. Marder is happily star-gazing, while bassist Schiff(erle) has pursued a career as an artist and is currently showing her drawings and sculpture in Zurich through the 31st. She will also be teaching a course in the autumn.

They have had offers to re-form but, as yet, have declined.

Community Use: Hackney WickED vs The 'Stow

Living in an Olympic borough, as I do, one exists among the stark juxtaposition of the haves and have-nots: loads of cranes, shiny hoardings and hype of a global event, contrasted with the squalor, unemployment and despair of an historically deprived area.

As Hackney WickED, an arts festival in its second year, shows, one can do a lot with one's surroundings. Bordering the Olympic construction, Hackney Wick holds a concentration of artists living in an industrial area which was pretty much a wasteland 10 years ago. No shops, no cafes, just one bus route and a canal, plus a lot of abandoned buildings.

Now it's the new Shoreditch, full of artists' studios and galleries and right on the edge of what will be a global hotspot come 2012. Regeneration or gentrification is the question.

To be fair, some of the artists are questioning the changing of the area themselves. One exhibit, the Museum of Hackney Wick, looks at the changes in the area and casts them as historical exhibits, to be picked over by future inhabitants.

Meanwhile, up in sunny Walthamstow, we have a newly opened "community use" area (see photo). After years of walking past a boarded-up derelict lot on the corner of High Street and Hoe Street, I can now walk through an empty paved lot, utterly devoid of character or personality.

Yes, after years of consultation and planning, the council has, in essence, built a car park. Genius. This, truly, is progress. And since we're in an Olympic borough, maybe by 2012 it'll be rebranded as an Olympic community use area.

Typical Girls? The Story of the Slits

Zoë Street Howe
Omnibus Press
Legendary as first-wave punks and pioneering women, yet largely ignored by the myriad punk histories over the decades, The Slits finally get their bio as the 30th anniversary of their debut album, Cut, approaches.

Hanging her book on this peg, Street Howe (see pic) gives a very abridged back story to the album and also pretty much fast-forwards through everything after the band broke up, but the golden years of 1976-81 are given their due, with an array of funny, insightful anecdotes from a range of colourful characters such as Don Letts, Keith Levene and Vivien Goldman about what it was like being around the Slits in that heady time when the world was introduced to what would become known as punk.

This then branched off into the infinitely more interesting post-punk, with its reach into the diaspora of reggae, dub, experimental noise, art rock and all of the "waves". The Slits were there through all of it and were still evolving when they broke up at the end of '81. The book includes interviews with band members Viv Albertine, Ari Up, Tessa Pollitt and Palmolive, and also some of the ones who left early on, such as Kate Corris.

Told in a rather breathless, golly, gee-whiz style, the book lacks a solid social and political context for The Slits' story. It is also peppered with dismissive phrases such as "die-hard Women's Libbers", a phrase I haven't heard in about 25 years.

This anti-feminist thread is backed up by Street Howe's comment in The Quietus: "I loved their strange, funny, experimental sound and look, and was inspired by, from what I'd read in the odd interview, their refusal to label themselves 'feminist', or even 'punk'."

Why is this inspiring? What is wrong with aligning oneself to a group or movement? Surely this is exactly what the Slits did: they called themselves a gang or a tribe and were close-knit. Ari Up has long referred to being part of a "revolution". Surely one cannot have a revolution without acting in tandem.

Strange, really, because, when I met the author recently, she said she identifies as a feminist, but she was at pains to illustrate that The Slits didn't want to be categorised.

Ironic, then, because the memory of The Slits has largely been kept alive by underground women's movements such as Riot Grrrl and Ladyfest (the Manchester event hosted the re-formed band) which are avowedly feminist and see the value of standing together in the face of continuing misogyny.

But if The Slits baulked at being adherents to a movement, their sense of being independent and in control of their work has certainly been picked up by thoughtful and adventurous souls in the intervening years.

It is unfortunate that the book uses the word "seminal", a word whose etymology is linked to semen, to describe The Slits. But the band is extraordinary, their legacy impressive and their story well worth telling.

Gina Birch at Barden's Boudoir

8 July
Barden's Boudoir

Dalston truly is a lure for west London's punk pioneers, as following on from last month's visit by Viv Albertine, Gina Birch popped in for a gig.

After sets by Helen McCookerybook and Brooklyn weird-rock duo Christy and Emily (how do two people make so much noise??), Birch took to the stage, guitar in hand, backed up by tapes and projections from her decades of films. She has been working on new material since The Hangovers but it's not clear when this will see the light of day.

The set ranged from Raincoats ("Don't Be Mean") to Hangovers ("I'm Glad I'm Me Today") to quite a few I didn't recognise, but were quite intriguing. Bitterness, regret and quite a lot of anger shine through in Birch's delivery, and her slightly unhinged persona is brewing up nicely.

Florence and the Machine

A new album, support set for Blur and a storming set at Glasto (how the heck did she get up the lighting rig in those heels?!). It's all go for Florence and the Machine.

Lungs, the album, is currently streaming for two days ahead of its release on the 6th. And it's quite impressive.

I never liked "Kiss with a Fist". Too open to misinterpretation, even if, musically, it's the rockiest thing in her set. But, "The Dog Days Are Over" is one of my favourite songs of the last few years, a wistful, melancholic, start-stop song with cryptic lyrics. And this woman likes her handclaps. It's definitely time for a handclap revival. Other standouts are "The Girl with One Eye" and "Howl", both of which reference tearing out hearts. So, she has a thing for internal organs.

Part flower child, part goth, with nods to Kate Bush and Stevie Nicks, Florence has an oddball, kooky, slightly hippyish retro style that is intriguing, even if it screams pretentious art student. And, indeed she attended Camberwell. One to watch.

SO36 Benefit

A landmark of Berlin, SO36 has been called Berlin's CBGBs. The Roxy in London is another comparison, as all three played host to an explosion of counter-culture in the 1970s. But, unlike the latter two, which have disappeared, SO36 is still running, putting on gigs, club nights, and, eh, flea markets and serving as a real community resource, supporting the queer and feminist scenes, among others.

This excerpt from Berlin Super 80 gives a flavour of its heyday.


Having just celebrated its 30th anniversary, SO36 now faces closure because of noise complaints. I wondered if this was another example of the creeping gentrification engulfing the scruffier parts of the city. In response to my query, Henning, who works there, emailed me to say gentrification is a concern but this seems to be an isolated case of one neighbour complaining.

It would be a terrible shame were the SO36 to succumb. Mona Mur, who is playing on a benefit bill tomorrow, recalls many a big night: "I saw some really crucial concerts there, like DAF in 1981 when Gabi Delgado transformed the place into a madhouse. These are indeed memories... As a young punk/wave musician from "westGermany" West-Berlin was the fulfilment of desire. And the SO36 (named after the old postal code of Kreuzberg SüdOst = South East) was the Temple. It is still a cool place although it has seen its Golden Days, I guess."

Berlin Supports SO36 is on 2 July at the Modulorhaus.

Glastonbury

I've quite enjoyed the Glastonbury coverage on BBC 6Music this weekend, not least when I was contentedly baking a lovely moist chocolate cake while hailstones were smacking against my kitchen window.

6Music has really gone to town this year, with wall-to-wall coverage. Not sure why it's so prevalent this year, but even 5Live's gotten into the act, with a series of links to Worthy Farm interrupting its Wimbledon coverage. Very odd to hear sports reporters attempting to do live two-ways with music journalists, with amusing results.


But, what was going on with Gabby Logan this morning? I can only think her show was re-routed to Glastonbury because it was Wimbledon's day off. Her interview with Dizzee Rascal was truly embarrassing, with her pressing him on how "young people" feel about politics and him batting away the questions with irritation. "I'd rather chew glass" was his reply to her enquiry as to how he was finding the interview. Stick to News vs Sport, Gabby!

POUT

Pride London has always lacked a cultural element. (At various times it's even lacked the name Pride, a settled date or any kind of queer identity, but, hey, the '90s was a strange decade, wasn't it?)

Whereas, say, San Francisco's queer film festival handily runs right up to its pride march, London makes do with lots of overpriced club nights for what should be the highlight of the queer calendar. This year, however, POUT's screenings, running from 28 June to 6 July, aim to establish this missing link.

Among the films are two wonderful docs, The Times of Harvey Milk and Before Stonewall, which give a marvellous (if entirely US-focussed) overview of the origins of LGBTQ (and how many letters will be added to that billing in years to come?) activism. I heartily look forward to The Queer Years in the next decade or so.

Or maybe it's already here. Born in '68, a French film spanning 40 years or so of French Left history, although fiction, does a pretty good job of shoehorning in all the relevant touchstones of that country's recent history, running from de Gaulle to Chirac, as well as working in a precis of queer activism of the early '90s. I was struck by how similar the AIDS protests were to those held in San Francisco. And even the T-shirts were the same! This film is also screening at Frameline.

The POUT schedule features two films programmed by Club des Femmes: The Killing of Sister George and The World Ten Times Over. Two 1960s films directed by men may be strange choices for such an event, but, as Club des Femmes' Selina Robertson explained: "We look for the alternative, we look for politics and dialogue and experimentation... This season, visiting 1960's mainstream filmmaking is a new departure for us, predominantly because for the first time we are screening work by men. But on this occasion we wanted to go back into our history and have a look at some key films from that iconic 60's decade. So we chose two films shot in London that attempted to represent contemporary lesbian lives."

Well, I have had a look at The World Ten Times Over, and I must say it's not exactly brimming with feel-good swinging London-ness. Or feel good lesbian-ness. Two rather unhappy dancehall hostesses sharing a flat have to cope with the disapproving men in their lives as well as an unwanted pregnancy, a suicide attempt and many interesting costume changes. Are they lesbians? Well, it's a kind of blink-and-you-miss-it, coded lesbianism, very well camouflaged by their constant discussions about their boyfriends and male dates.

The London pictured here is a polarised city of executive suites and open-top cars contrasted with seedy after-hours clubs and back streets shot furtively with hand-held cameras. Quite striking but very much a period piece, with a standout performance by Sylvia Syms and an irritating one by June Ritchie as her "friend".

Robertson's take on the selection differs: "We feel that it's very important to remember where we have come from, in terms of our own British lesbian cinema culture. The two films that we have choosen to screen were made pre- and post de-criminalization. One is extremely well known and the other virtually unknown to a wider audience, so we thought it would be a good idea to have a look at these films again in a more contemporary context."

As part of the screening of Sister George, Club des Femmes is seeking reminiscences of The Gateways Club: "We want your memories! If you enjoyed the delights of the Gateways Club will you send us your memories? Who broke your heart? Who lit your cigarette? Is it time to tell all?" Tattletale should be sent to: femmes@clubdesfemmes. Should be enlightening.

Viv Albertine at Cafe Oto

Cafe Oto
10 June

Ah, sunny Dalston. How well I remember it from days of yore: squatting in a house with no heating, collecting wood from the skip next door, boarding up smashed windows...

So, no Tube strike or distraction of international football could keep me from returning to my spiritual home for a gig by former Slits guitarist Viv Albertine. Out of the public eye for a number of years, she only returned last year for a measly two gigs with the re-formed (but hardly reformed) Slits before deciding life as part of Ari Up's backing band was not for her.

Happily, the experience did get her playing her trusty Telecaster and writing some new sweet-sour pop songs. Yes, pop. No snarling punk rawkness was on show here. Just Viv, guitar in hand, keyboardist (and author) Zoë Street Howe and pianist Steve Beresford. The set was short, sweet and, save a nasty smack in the mouth on her mic, without undue incident. In the house were old muckers The Raincoats and Tessa Pollitt, as well as other "I-was-there-in-'77" stalwarts mixed in with the jazzheads who'd come to see the other acts on the bill.

Love und Romance still seem to be preoccupations for Albertine, as she declared, "This is really depressing. I don't believe in love anymore" while introducing "Don't Believe/In Love". Other titles included "The False Heart" and "If Love", which worms into the brain with its "la-la-la-la" refrain.

There was a bratty, nursery rhyme quality to the lyrics which sat happily with her rhythmic strumming style. Perhaps a bit sedate for the old guard but everyone has to grow up.

The Story of London

Boris Johnson, London's mayor (why do I involuntarily shudder when I type these words? It's been over a year!), is something of a gift to comedy writers, a blond-mopped, gaffe-prone Tory with an, uh, colourful personal life.

When he's not almost being run down by an errant lorry while "on a fact-finding mission", Mayor Boris turns his hand to other things, such as improving the cultural lives of all and sundry.

In an effort to persuade Londoners that we live in "the world's most dynamic city", the mayor is laying on The Story of London, a multi-strand jamboree celebrating The Big Smoke, "past, present and future". And there is some good stuff to be found. Not that I ever doubt London has a lot to offer. It's just that civic events tend to be a case of too many cooks spoiling the broth and instead producing a rather tasteless gruel.

Not so The Story of London, which runs for the full 30 days of June. Each weekend has a different theme, the first on 6 and 7 June being Walking Weekend, with a series of walks conducted by Blue Badge Tourist Guides in what is optimistically described as "the June sunshine". We can only hope. I was quite intrigued by "The Corridor of Power" walk, which is only in Polish. Others are in Russian and Japanese.

Most of the walks have fees but a few are free and there are other free events throughout the month, including music, films and exhibits.

Ruby Tuesday Rock Camp

Following on from the plethora of Girls Rock Camps in the USA in the last few years is the first German edition, Ruby Tuesday Rock Camp, to be held in Cottbus in eastern Germany in August.

Registration is now open until 30 May for girls aged 12-16 who would like to try out instruments, learn to scream and enjoy the company of other girls from their peer group.

I know when I was that age, I never had a chance to touch an electronic instrument or make noise. As I recall, when I expressed an interest as an 11-year-old in learning trumpet or trombone, I was told by the music teacher that those instruments were "too hard" for girls to learn and I should stick with the more gentle flute and clarinet. I never did pick up a brass instrument and I was 29 before I tried bass or keyboards.

I attended two Ruby Tuesday events when I was in Berlin, including a gig which is featured in this promo film.


Organiser Jule discussed with me the importance of girls getting a chance to play in bands, as the 12 to 16 age group is just the time when self esteem drops, body issues come to the fore and girls' development seems to shrink. She only started playing drums at 28 and doesn't see why girls should wait until that ripe old age (ahem). "I want them to know they are strong and there is a world waiting for them."

Of course, if any bands come from it, that would be great, but the main message is for girls to express themselves in a supportive environment.

ATP: Young Marble Giants

Next week Young Marble Giants will take the stage at All Tomorrow's Parties in Minehead. Knowing the Great British Weather, it will probably rain. But, that's OK. YMG are probably more suited to a rainy day than a sun-kissed summer festival.

When I saw the re-formed band earlier this year in Berlin, they received a rapturous reception, running through most of the songs on their 1980 debut, Colossal Youth, and then, for their encores, re-playing the ones they'd messed up earlier. Few bands could get away with that, but they have such laid-back charm and such good will from having been away so long, that it worked. And the encored songs were better the second time around.

These days YMG don't get out much, their appearances limited to the odd invite. For their gig at ATP, they will perform Colossal Youth in its entirety, as part of the fan-curated programme.

ATP will mark the first time the whole record has been played live, as the Berlin set list left off a few songs that guitarist Stuart Moxham still needed to re-learn. The product of youth, insecurity and vivid imagination, the record still astonishes after 29 years, full of open space that allows the songs to breathe. Melancholia ages better than anger, and the record is full of wist and longing.

As a young band, they weren't so keen on performing live, being wracked with insecurity. Bassist Philip Moxham confessed to staring at the wall during gigs, while singer Alison Statton said she lacked confidence in life, let alone music.
Backstage before the Berlin gig, I asked them about their reunion and playing live.

KB: Why are you back?
Stuart Moxham: For the money.
Alison laughs.

So, it's a big post-punk minimalist sell-out?
Laughter.

SM: We originally thought it would be a good idea to try and do another album. We said whatever we do, we won't come back and be an '80s comeback band. But, as it happens, that is what we're doing.

Philip Moxham: It's largely, as well, because of the unprecedented enthusiasm for the record. People who have been listening to it for the last 30 years or so have said they are quite pleased to see us playing. Plus, there are a lot of younger people who are into the band.

Are there particular challenges to playing live?
SM: There are for me, because all the keyboard stuff is kind of difficult to work out. "What is that chord?" And the same with the guitar, because since this group I haven't played electric guitar, really. That's a long time ago.

How do you feel now performing the songs? Does it mean something different?
Alison Statton: It definitely means something different. In one sense it feels as if we never stopped playing and we're just a few months on, but in another way we're much more relaxed about it all. Just appreciating the music for what it is more, because we've had that time and that separation.

Young Marble Giants perform Colossal Youth at All Tomorrow's Parties, Butlin's, Minehead, Somerset, on 9 May.

Exterra XX

Featuring alongside the arrival of the re.act.feminism video archive this week at the Kunsthaus Erfurt is a retrospective of the women's performance group Exterra XX. Starting out as the Frauengruppe and then the Kunsterlingruppe and conducting its activities covertly while under Stasi surveillance under the old DDR regime, the group blossomed into Exterra XX and existed until 1994, when it disbanded.

Before that, however, the members put on "fashion object shows" and performances, made Super 8 films and founded the Kunsthaus Erfurt, which is returning the favour by staging this 25-year retrospective.

While attending re.act.feminism earlier this year in Berlin, I met two former members of Exterra XX, Verena Kyselka and Gabriele Stötzer. Both had been under Stasi surveillance and were considered enemies of the state. Nevertheless, they doggedly pursued their artistic ambitions, as well as sticking to their beliefs, which under the stifling conditions, is quite admirable. Amazingly, none of the women in the group informed on the others, though some of their own nearest and dearest, including Kyselka's partner at the time, did.

This became clear in the early 1990s, with the release of the files the Stasi held on anyone considered worth observing, which numbered millions. Both Stötzer and Kyselka have incorporated their Stasi files into their artwork (see pic for Kyselka with an image of a project in Erfurt). And in October Stötzer will be staging a recreation of a momentous event--the storming of the Erfurt Stasi offices in 1989.

It's an emotive topic. After we spoke at the conference, I emailed Stötzer for further comment and she sent her replies in German. I've been wanting to make this blog bilingual anyway, so here is some of our exchange, in which she discusses the re-staging and the difficulties of working in groups.

(KB) Could you say what you and the other four women did in invading the Stasi office? When was this? Was it planned? Was it a political act or a form of performance? What would you like to do with this performance you are planning in October?

(GS) die erste stasistürmung war in erfurt. es war am 4. dezember 1989... es war nicht geplant, die frauen sagen: es war notwendig und wir haben es gemacht. nach unserem anfangen und der erfahrung das die stasi nicht schiesst haben die anderen städte schnell die anderen stasizentralen eingenommen und dadurch viele akten vor der vernichtung gerettet.... ich will einerseits das durch die wiederholung der stasistürmung mit den authentischen personen dieses geschichtsbewußtsein wieder mit der wahrheit getränkt wird und das die frauen die damals spontan und politisch verantwortlich reagiert haben (und ihr leben aufs spiel setzten) diesmal ihr persönliches vermächtnis mit in die aktion bringen. damals mußten wir nur in den vorgefundenen verhältnissen reagieren, jetzt können wir unsere eigene persönliche vision mit in das geschehen geben. noch einmal klar: damals das war eine politische aktion, diesmal wird es kunst werden.

I was interested when you said that the women were all united until after the Wende. And that it's necessary to go your own way. What did you mean? And how do you feel about the reunited state and your place in it?

die frauengruppe war in der ddr eine form uns selber gegen das herrschende system, das anpassung verlangte, als individuum auszusprechen. dazu kam das innerhalb dieser gruppe jede einzelne sich über ihre eigenen grenzen hinaus entwickeln konnte und durch die gruppe geschützt war. wenn sich z.b. bei einer performance eine frau ausgezogen hat, wurde sie durch das normale umgehen der anderen frauen in der gruppe gestärkt. auch die angst vor den represalien wurde als gruppe gemeinsam besser ertragen. als dann die wende kam und wir ein kunsthaus gründeten, wurde nicht weiter nach frauenbildern oder unserer eigenen gruppendynamik geforscht. das haus existiert, weil es von außen finanziert wird und wir auf die anforderungen der finanzierer (stadt, ministerium) reagierten. ich bin weggegangen weil ich weiter allein für mich aus mir heraus schreiben wollte und nicht lesungen anderer in dem haus organisieren. nach der wende war der zusammenhalt gegen das system nicht mehr da. jede konnte sich allein retten und mußte es auch lernen. ich hatte bis dahin die leitung übernommen und habe mich selber abgesetzt, bzw. bin selber abgesetzt worden.

The re.act.feminism video archive and Exterra XX retrospective are showing at the Kunsthaus Erfurt from 21 April to 10 May. Gabriele Stötzer peforms on 19 April.

LLGFF: Tru Loved

Tru Loved, dir Stewart Wade
Lion's Den, dir Pablo Trapero
To Faro, dir Nanna Neul

Three tales of forbidden love and social barriers.

US high schools are a fertile ground for films in a way other educational systems don't seem to be. There's something about the social pressures, hierarchies and cliques that is irresistible to filmmakers. Tru Loved is the latest such comedy, dropping a coming out story into this social pressure cooker.

The title character is the new girl at school, moving from San Francisco to the boondocks at the behest of her two moms. Ignored by the self-appointed cool kids, she is thrilled when quarterback Lo asks her out. Envisioning romance around every corner (the film makes great use of fantasy sequences), Tru is brought down to earth when it becomes clear that Lo is a closet case. Undaunted, she sets out to establish a Gay-Straight Alliance (these have become omnipresent in the last decade but certainly didn't exist when I was at school) at her school and finds herself confronted by all manner of complications, while maintaining her "romance" with Lo. Funny and well-written, the film has a few flat moments but has some real bite and intelligence, not the least in its use of "Katie" as a term for a beard. How did that get past the lawyers?

Not nearly so upbeat is the Argentinean prison drama Lion's Den, featuring a standout performance by Martina Gusman as Julia, imprisoned for the murder of her boyfriend and the attempted murder of their mutual lover. Thrown into prison and giving birth there, Julia must raise her son Tomas within the walls while fighting her conviction. Refreshingly unsensationalistic in its treatment of prison and the love affair that Julia begins with fellow inmate Marta, the film is sensitively directed by Pablo Trapero and asks a difficult question: is it better for a child to be raised in prison or taken away from his mother at age four?

Asking, but not answering, questions about perception is To Faro, a German film about mistaken identity that is an uneasy mix of comedy and drama. Stifling in her job at a company providing airline meals, Melanie jumps at the chance of dating cute teen Jenny, even if it means adopting the identity of Miguel, a Portuguese emigre. Conducting a romance under false pretences leads to comical mix-ups and very serious consequences, with abrupt shifts of tone that are jarring. As Melanie leaves home, the film offers her an escape from her predicament but not the underlying problems.

LLGFF: DIY

Travel Queeries, dir Elliat Graney-Saucke
The Lollipop Generation, dir GB Jones
Bandaged, dir Maria Beatty

A couple of films that put the Q in LGBT, so to speak, Travel Queeries and Lollipop are both long in the making, a reminder of how hard it is to make DIY films that go under the radar of funders. Travel Queeries documents queer subcultures across Europe, from London to Belgrade and features an array of inspiring real-life characters who work under the most arduous conditions, from the activists who brave violent attacks in Belgrade and Warsaw, to the artists who liven up their surroundings in Copenhagen. The film also points out how these cultures are being united, with the Internet and travelling activists serving to link disparate cultures, a function the film serves, as well.

GB Jones is a legend in Toronto, co-founder of the original homocore zine JDs and the dyke band Fifth Column. Her magnum opus The Lollipop Generation was started in the early 90s and has only just reached completion, so feels a bit piecemeal, with star Jena von Brucker's hair colour changing from scene to scene. Surely a continuity editor's nightmare. I don't mind the DIY roughness of the film and positively revel in the grainy Super 8 quality, which suits the story of a teenaged runaway (von Brucker) and her adventures with the street kids she meets.

My reservations lie more with the storyline, with von Brucker reduced to a mere linking device, as the story shifts to street teens Peanut, Janie and Rufus, who are pursued by the "Horrible Homos", porn makers with a taste for kids. The appearance of Vaginal Davis, whose character picks up a boy outside a school, flings him over his shoulder and then attempts to have sex with him, is just plain creepy. Davis has great comic appeal and the scene appears to be played for laughs, but what is the message? That paedophilia is funny? That the situation, in which the only black character in the film is a sexual predator, is meant to be a comment on social stereotypes and so should be read ironically? Jones seems to revel in sexually explicit scenes, with a plethora of blow jobs, at the same time she seems to be decrying sexual exploitation of street kids. The message seems hopelessly muddled and so undermines the film.

While Bandaged is coming from a completely different place, it stars Susanne Sachsse, who has featured in several Bruce La Bruce films, as well as leading Berlin's Cheap arts troupe, which numbers Vaginal Davis among its members. I had high expectations for this film, which was billed as a horror period piece. The set-up is intriguing, as Sachsse's Nurse Genova arrives at a remote mansion to tend to the wounds of Lucille, a suicidal teen, at the behest of the girl's domineering scientist father.

Nurse Genova has a questionable record, with a penchant for putting patients out of their misery which is not in line with the Hippocratic oath. She becomes attached to the girl, with much face-stroking and suggestive washing. But what are her motives? And where is dad getting his amazing skin grifts from? Yes, these are the dual plot lines and they play as ridiculously as they sound. The dialogue is so stilted, it sounds dubbed, badly. The best shots are reserved for syringes, and Sachsse is called upon to act in some of the worst sex scenes committed to film. So bad, it's good.

LLGFF: Ulrike Ottinger

The festival capped off its mini-retrospective of Ulrike Ottinger with the premiere of Prater, her documentary on Vienna's famed amusement park, not her queerest work but one that encompasses many of her themes, both in terms of content and form: the sharp observation, playfulness, and fascination with exoticism, among others.

I found the film beautiful and also bewildering in parts, which may sum up my response to Ottinger's work as a whole. Her imagination sometimes leaves the viewer behind. Prater is in some ways the most straightforward of films, a documentary looking at an amusement park that serves as both pointer to the future and past, one which has pushed technology throughout its history but is also supremely kitsch, offering the comfort of nostalgia.

Ottinger, of course, has deeper concerns and her selection of attractions, including dancing monkey figures and rictus-grinning magicians, is telling. Within the long film are many stand-alone scenes, including one she described in the panel discussion as a "short film on machismo", an extraordinary sequence in which a group of young men unleashes a torrent of violence in pursuit of pleasure, egging each other on to ridiculous heights as they compete in a game.

The festival showed three of Ottinger's earlier works, Madame X - an Absolute Ruler, Johanna d'arc of Mongolia and The Image of Dorian Gray in the Yellow Press, illustrating her views on gender, sexuality and power relations.

Madame X, I was surprised to learn, was quite controversial on its release in 1977, with some feminists expressing outrage at its depiction of a group of women offering themselves in servility to the "absolute ruler", Madame X. Seeing it for the first time, I actually found the film quite mild and, indeed, chaste in its depiction of lesbian sexuality. But the suggestion of S/M was considered outrageous at the time, as was Bildnis einer Trinkerin, for its depiction of the sexual underworld of Berlin in 1979. A pity this latter wasn't up for re-consideration on its 30th anniversary.

Rewind

Back in the day, when I lived in San Francisco's Castro District, periodically there would come a knock on the door and I would answer it to find the slouching figure of Lynn Breedlove standing there, holding a package requiring my signature. Knowing her to be the singer in Tribe 8, as well as in the courier biz, I would ask what her band was up to, and she would hand me a flyer, usually for a gig at El Rio (tagline: Your Dive) or some other sweaty local venue. Ah, those were the days.

So, it was with a touch of nostalgia that I found myself a couple of nights ago watching the new, improved, transified Lynnee Breedlove, not hollering shirtless into a mic or chopping up a dildo but striding onstage nude, save a harness and purple appendage, at Bar Wotever. Not content with being a musician, novelist, and filmmaker, Breedlove is now trying out stand-up comedy. It wasn't the most side-splitting set, but there were a few good one-liners and, with charisma to burn, Breedlove carries a great deal of charm, even if the material was a bit, eh, d__k-heavy for me.

The evening was a bit of an SF-early 90s reunion, as not only did I see a few familiar faces from the past at the gig, but earlier I was reunited with an old activist pal-turned-filmmaker, Consuelo Ramirez, whose doc on Yo Majesty, Keep It Movin', showed at the LLGFF. This being her first film, she was thrilled to come to London to show it and had a plethora of behind-the-scenes stories about the band, which I can't repeat but which may turn up in her book in progress.

I tell you it was almost like 1991 all over again, but that's silly. After all, back then there was a recession and the USA was engaged in a pointless war in the Gulf.