Bel Canto

Minister Court, Mark Lane, off Fenchurch Street, London, EC3

There are often times during a working week when the fug of an exceedingly bad day will follow you like a persistent charity mugger as you leave your place of occupation. If you then head straight out for dinner wearing that same bad head you might feel inclined to unload your tension onto your dinner guest, even though they probably didn’t deserve it. This might then lead to a heated debate, a glass of staining Rioja thrown across a table and an embarrassing silence throughout the restaurant as your guest stomps off in the direction of the exit. Dramas, dramas, dramas.

At Bel Canto, these sort of dramas happen all the time, and at regular intervals. They even expect you to pay for the privilege?! Your starter might be interrupted by a lovestruck nobleman suddenly rousing the crowd into a drinking frenzy. Your main could well be punctuated by two blokes loudly harking on about losing their girlfriends. Whilst your dessert is likely to be impeded by a beautiful Spanish temptress publicising her feelings about men (“Waiter, there’s seems to be a Bizet in my soup”). Welcome to operatic dinners where just as you sit down the barman totters over from behind the bar and starts belting out an aria. You don’t get that at All Bar One.

The Times food critic, A.A.Gill, reckons Bel Canto is “the worst concept for a restaurant” he’s ever come across, that offers “bad food with intrusive arias in a basement in the city.” Well, he’s right; about ONE thing: Bel Canto IS in a city basement. Aside from that, it appears the Great Gill got it wrong because Bel Canto is like taking a hot shower in culture juice. Anyone who believes that this restaurant is gimmicky, or somehow reduces the arts to a form of sideshow circus, is probably the kind of person that makes Piers Morgan seem like the ideal companion for a round-the-world boat expedition.

Put it this way, would you rather pay £100 to witness Radiohead play live at Wembley or, for a fraction of the cost, have them perform an intimate gig in your living room, balanced precariously on top of your sofa? So, likewise, would you rather pay several hundred notes to sit in the stalls at the Royal Opera House and watch La Traviata unfold on stage, or have it performed right next to your dinner table for just a few quid? To be fair, this analogy is not entirely accurate because the singers at Bel Canto nor the Royal Opera house write their own music - unlike Radiohead - but seeing as the original composers are hard to book (ie. dead) they are the next best thing.

When going to the opera it’s strictly a dinner-then-show affair. At Bel Canto, this pesky middle man is bypassed and the performances happen practically right on top of your table. Occasionally, you might even be lucky enough to be utilised as a prop (watch out for that floozy, Carmen, lads). The set menu is £55 for 3 courses without wine. Seems expensive; for a meal. Throw in 4 hours of quality opera and it’s difficult to see how you’d get more than a stump up in the Gods at the ROH for that price.

As you listen, mouth agog, hairs on end, eardrums bursting, many questions will enter your mind and, once they’ve completed the piece, clap dutifully and then feel at ease to ask your queries because customers are encouraged to discuss the music with the angels. It’s hard to believe these young artists are still only students with burgeoning careers and that they could actually get any better. Look out for stars of future Tyler Clarke, the unassuming tenor, and Carleen Ebbs, the Kiwi soprano, who, at times, can get so high she rattles the spare glasses on the empty tables.

The problem with Bel Canto is that the dining area is just a cave with some refined cave dwellers hanging out in it. The only thing that fills it is the gargantuan sound emanating from the amazing performers. The decorative opera posters, headless costumes and grand piano go some way to make the space look a bit exciting. What’s missing are a few throwaway balconies, some street urchin chorus kids and about 100 more customers per night.

The French cuisine is not nearly as dramatic as the performances but it’s hardly fair to expect it to be. Both food and wine tick the ‘adequate’ box and you will find yourself saying “there was food?” at the end of the evening because you were so engrossed with the ‘goosebumps guaranteed’ quartet from Verdi’s Rigoletto that you completely forgot you were eating rabbit risotto.

Tip: don’t be late and remember this is not a dinner, it’s an event. If it takes 20 minutes to get some water, it’s meant to be that way so you can enjoy more.

If opera can work this well with dining and hospitality, what’s stopping it from spreading into other vocations? Professional football? - “Refereeeeeeeeeee, are you not blind to seeeeeeeee, that that was a clear penaltyyyyyyyyyyy”. Or how about construction? How refreshing would it be to hear the chubby chaps on the building site singing out scenes from The Magic Flute instead of footie chants and sexists abuse?

Although new to London, Bel Canto has already been posturing in Paris for a decade and with a little help from us critics and you, the paying public, it can be the same over here. In these times of financial strife, those that are wary of the wallet should stand up and sing “bravo, bravo, bravo, Bel Canto”. Support a local artist, eat dinner.

The Lord Palmerston

33 Dartmouth Park Hill, Tuffnell Park, NW5 1HU

Metallica had their ‘Reload’ album. Shakespeare had his ‘Titus Andronicus’. Manchester United had their 2-0 loss to mediocre Fulham. It’s clear that even the greatest of greats have their off days and in the recession-weary world of pub ownership, it seems the champions, Geronimo Inns, have been slacking. Exhibit A: the Lord Palmerston in Tufnell Park.

Ordinarily, there wouldn’t much to gripe about because the ambience is filled with bellowing laughter, the service is as jolly as a Bank Holiday weekend, and the library of libations has the potential to break out into an unscheduled beer & wine festival. The trouble is, Geronimo have the same ideals about food as Alex Ferguson does about winning. A below par performance is simply unacceptable and, unfortunately, the nourishment at the Lord Palmerston is inhibiting its progress through the University of Geronimo.

The menu is surprisingly uninspiring, the specials board translates ‘special’ into ‘once lived in the sea’ (great for seafood lovers only), and there’s an obvious tendency to slap several French words onto ordinary English fare in an attempt to make it sound confusingly exotic. It desperately relies on its side dishes to provide the minerals, too; with kale and pumpkin demonstrating their super-sub status. Plus, the mash is sloppy, the chicken is so dry it’s almost crunchy, and the Guinness cake is an unfinished sugarless gloop that was made by an infant who wasn’t allowed to use Guinness.

But enough about the food because there ARE ways to actually enjoy this pub. For example, there’s separate areas to accommodate even the most fickle of fancies: the rear garden has been daubed with modernity, warmth and tranquility hither and thither, fo schither; and, if words like ‘leather’, ‘sedate’ and ‘shelves’ tickle your foo-foo, then The Palmerston’s open fire, cosy earth tones, comedy-sized lampshades and book-lined walls should have you grabbing your mountain of weekend papers in no time as the décor is dangerously close to turning homey, homie. There’s even a bright conservatory to read them in, so you don’t have to build one of your own.

Top marks should also be awarded for the plethora of peculiar objet d’Art (French for ‘bunch of weird stuff’) as well as the burly German, Belgian and Italian heavies crowding round the bar (the draughts). Plus, the extremely popular Wednesday night quiz has a strange knack of becoming more difficult as the night wears on (or as you drink more) and the wine list is a delightfully engaging yarn that should be read right to the end.

Due to its Hampstead Heath proximity and it’s familiar-slap-on-the-shoulder congeniality, the Lord Palmerston is agreeably Philip Schofield. If it weren’t for the contra-creative menu being so hit and miss, it would be joyously Terry Wogan. If you don’t live in the area, don’t bother. If you do, do.

Tricky

He’s running late from a previous interview and he’s soon got another meeting across town. This means Flavorpill will have to catch him in transit as he makes his way through the busy London streets. The phone line isn’t great though. This could, indeed, be a tricky conversation.

Christian Rose-Day chats, albeit with minor interruptions, to a distracted and ‘very English’ Tricky. The issues up for discussion include his feelings about fish and chips, record sales and other people’s opinions of The Fifth Element.

So, you’re obviously a busy man?
Sometimes

[He seems distracted]

Have you got plans for the weekend?
Umm, I don’t know mate.

[Awkward silence, this is going really well]

I see you were recently part of the NME Shockwaves tour here in the UK - how was it playing in front of your home crowds?
Do you know what? Playing in front of any crowd, you tour so long you be happy just for people to turn up….

[This is better. And by Jove, he’s got a thick West Country accent]

…Anywhere that I go, if I’ve got more than 20 people, I’m happy. It’s just the fact that people will buy a ticket to come see you, it makes me feel good. Obviously it’s nice in England because in Manchester I got to see all my family. I had friends from Liverpool come down. Obviously when I’m playing New York that can’t happen.

How was the latest material received in the live context?
We had a good vibe everywhere. It’s no so much what album you’re doing. If you try to give 100% of yourself, someone will feel you, someone will have feedback off feelings. Feelings generate around the room. For instance, my band know that they’re not to get dressed up when they go on stage. I have a knock down if I ever see anyone putting on anything special. It’s like “What you wearing in the day time is what you go onstage with”. If you’re wearing pajamas all day you go on stage in pajamas. We try to keep it real and honest.

And you’ve got your first full US tour for 5 years coming up. Any reason why you’ve chosen now?
It’s the only time I’ve got at the moment. We’ve been on tour for about the last 9 months. I’ve got to record a new album in April so this is really the only time we’ve got. So I’ll go to America, do this tour and then record my album. I’m going to be going to places [in the US] that I’ve never been before and places where people don’t know me. It’s going to be almost like my first gigs. I’m not going to be selling out these places. Probably a lot of them will be half empty. So it’s like going back to old school, spreading the word, doing your gospel thing.

Did you get to choose any of those venues yourself?
No, it’s all done by my promotion guy. It’s basically like a promotional tour - not promotional as in doing the main places like New York and LA where I could probably get a big crowd, but doing places like Charlotte, Tennessee and the sort of places that I’m not really known.

I see you’ve got something special lined up for SXSW...
I get nervous. The only reason I get nervous is because I want people to have a really good show.

[Huh? Has he not heard the question correctly? Let’s try again]

And...

[Too late. he’s off again]

...I want people to have a good show so apart from that I don’t plan anything in particular. I just want 100% for my fans and I’m just going to get a hot chocolate....

[Is he ordering refreshments?]

....and it can be quite sad sometimes if you’re ultra tired and you don’t give 100% of yourself. That can be quite a depressing feeling. So what you hope for is that you’ve got everything to give. It’s such a nice thing for someone to come out and see you, to get a ticket and take the time out of their life to see you play. I see it as such a beautiful complement.

[Let’s give it one more try]

And you’ve got something special lined up with Devo for SXSW?

[Surely he heard it this time?]

Yeh, we’re going to be doing Devo which I’ve been a big fan of for years. I’ve met one of them once or twice but I’ve never actually got to do a show with them. So we’re going to be supporting them.

[Fair enough, let’s ask about his label]

Brown Punk: can you give us a quick summary of how things are going with that.
It’s going good. It’s taking a lot of time. It’s me and Chris Blackwell [Bob Marley, U2, Grace Jones, PJ Harvey] and we’re just trying to set it up real properly so hopefully we should have a film out and a record out this year. But err, sorry mate…soya milk, no cream....do you want anything?....so errm....sorry mate, what was I talking about?

Brown Punk.
Oh yeh, I did the movie and I’ve got about two more weeks of editing and we’ve got a compilation album what will come out at the same time.

So how do you decide who to sign on that label?
Sheer talent. I don’t give a shit about record sales. Like, I seen one of my bands play about 6 months ago and I was in the crowd and no one knew who I was and it was just beautiful to see them up there. So success to me is them finishing and mixing the album. That’s success to me.

I wanted to ask you about your own success in terms of records sold - your latest album: fantastic reviews, great piece of work, but then it didn’t quite get the recognition in terms of sales.
It’s understandable because I’m not in the right demographic for [BBC] Radio 1. Everything I stand for is not Radio 1. So I knew it was never going to go and sell millions of records and I knew to a certain extent that Radio 1 weren’t going to.....thank you, oh excuse me, could you pour some away please…

[Ah, refreshments must be ready]

...that Radio 1 weren’t going to play me. The music industry thinks I’m a bit raw and real. I’m a bit too honest. I don’t play the game. So I can understand it really.

The album is quite broad in its range.
Yeh, it’s like my upbringing. It’s every kind of music. It’s like my history. I didn’t grow up just listening to hip hop and I didn’t grow up just listening to reggae. I used to listen a lot to Marco Bolan and T-Rex, Gary Numan, The Specials. I come from a multi-racial family - my grandmother is white, my Dad’s Jamaican, my mum is half African, half white - and this is how I grew up: integration. And that reflects on what I do when I make music.

So going by the names you thrown out there, it’s quite a British album as well?
Yeh yeh, and I’m very, very, very English. Don’t matter how long I’ve been in America - I lived in America for 15 years - my accent is still the same. I’m very English in my attitude, the foods that I like to eat, and people say English food is crap, I love it.

You like pies?
Oh, fish and chips. Fish and chips is the best thing in the world. There’s nothing ever created better than fish and chips. Sausage and chip, bacon, tomatoes, fish fingers, Heinz ketchup. You know, I’m English.

The album itself details how life was quite tough for you back then, but how is it now?
Obviously I’m lucky. I get to travel. So I don’t get stuck in one place. It was tough but not tough. The toughest thing was being heard, or getting a job. I think it’s tougher for kids now. You’ve got the whole gun culture going on. I was lucky I didn’t go through any of that.

You said last year that if ‘something doesn’t sound dark people say it’s their best stuff’. Do you remember saying that?
Yeh, basically this is a comeback album. The only reason they’re saying this is a comeback album or that it’s one of the best albums I did is because it’s more accessible. They have to understand, Angels With Dirty Faces, you have to get your head round. With this, it’s really in your face and it speaks for itself.

Have you got any other examples of artists that have done similar?
I don’t know really. Things are bit harder for me because Maxinquaye caused such a storm. To have that much interest in your first album, where do you go from there? You have to go backwards to go forwards. The reason I did Nearly God was because Maxinquaye was too successful. It was too successful too quick so I did Nearly God because I knew that the record sales wouldn’t be as big as Maxinquaye, the radio wouldn’t be so quick to play it. I get critiqued a bit more because of that. I get critiqued quite heavily now. People dissect me.

Perhaps that’s an indication of how much respect you get.
To a certain extent it is, and what people expect from me, which is not a bad thing. It ups your game.

With many of your tracks you seem to be reveling in attracting the talents of other people. Is there anyone you would like to work with in the future if you were given the opportunity?
I’d always work with Polly Harvey. She is one of my favourite artists and I’m always, always, always, always up for working with her.

You’re obviously very keen on doing the odd cover version, are you a bit of a wannabe?
Yeh, I wish I’d written a lot of the covers I’ve done. So, in a way, I am a wannabe. I wish I could sound like Kate Bush or The Cure.

Are there any particular covers you’ll be doing in America?
I have a tracklist of everything I’ve ever done and I literally call them out as we go along. The crowd kind of let you know where you’re going as well. So if I feel like ‘All right, this is a bit mellow’ then I’ll call out one of the tougher songs. It’s very spontaneous, to a certain extent.

You’ve stated before that you’re not into new music as much as older music. Is this still the case?
I think a lot of new music leans itself on old music. It’s just like ‘You sound like so-and-so, but where are you?’ If I want to hear 60s music, I’m going to listen to 60s music. I’m not going to listen to an artist from now that does 60s music. I like new music. I like people that are experimenting. Why would I try and sound like a band from the 60s, what would be the point?

So which albums have you been caning lately?
Last night I was listening to the Best of The Jam album. Happy Mondays too. Public Enemy. I still listen to all my old favourites.

Do you ever go to gigs yourself?
Nah, I’ve never been into live shows, to be honest with you. Going to stand in front of people, watching them sing on stage, has never really appealed to me. I come from the DJ point of view, where sound systems play your music and you’re bouncing. Live shows have never really done anything for me.

Before you go, just a few quick questions. What are you most proud of?
My little girl. She’s so smart, she’s so intelligent, she’s a lot better than I am, she’s a better person than I am. She’s got a better mind than me.

Would you rate yourself as good Dad?
Not perfect, nah, not perfect.

When was the last you said ‘no’ to someone?
Just now when I was down at Universal and they told me to put out a spliff.

What is the biggest misconception people have of you?
Usually when people meet me they give me a bit of attitude because they think I’m dark and moody but I’m quite a comedian, I’m clumsy, I’m a joker.

What kind of reading material do you consume?
I only read real crime. I can’t read fiction, I can’t read science fiction. If it didn’t happen, I can’t read it.

So what reading material do you have next to your toilet?
I’ve got this book called Wild Thing by a doorman called Lew Yates. It’s about a guy who does security in London. It’s a good book.

What makes you angry and when was the last time you had a Christian Bale type rant?
Now I’m older I don’t often have them any more. But a few things make me angry like someone coming up to me on the street saying ‘Are you an actor?’ or ‘Were you in the Fifth Element?’ Who would give a fuck if I was in the Fifth Element? Why would anyone care? That makes me angry, that you’d waste your time to come up to me and say that. How fucking stupid is that?

What worries you?
Not a lot really because it aint perfect. Why worry about anything? You live and you die and everything in between. It’s not really worth worrying about anything.

So you’re fairly chilled out these days?
Yeh.

Budapest

This feature was published in Royal Jordanian Airline's in-flight magazine, Royal Wings.

Staying over
Short stay guests craving the convenience of inner city life will find the deluxe, fashionable apartment suites at MaMaison Residence Izabella in close proximity to the classy Andrássy boulevard. If you desire fantastic views of the Danube, Hotel Victoria in quiet Buda will be more to your taste (higher floors recommended).

Eating out
The Jewish quarter is always a good place to start. Fülemüle has reasonably-priced, authentic Hungarian dishes, Café Bouchon offers international flavours in an informal setting (cash only) whilst Buena Vista boasts a café, pub and fine dining restaurant with a summer terrace.

What to do
Looking for an unusual excursion? The 1200m Castle Labyrinth should do the trick. Not for small children or claustrophobics (opt for the lamplight tour). To unwind, a dip at the Gellért Baths & Spa is the perfect relaxation antidote. Classic marble, mosaics, saunas, hot springs and outdoor pools for all.

Shopping
Király Street is the capital’s most promising area for boutique shopping and the best of the bunch is Latomas which specialises in edgy fashion for women (Hungarian designed). Budapest is also home to many delicious ‘cukraszdas’, or pastry shops, and Gresham Kávéház at the Four Seasons Gresham Palace Hotel is simply the most elegant.

What to Read
Experience the lighter side of the Soviet occupation with the bizarre One Minute Stories by István Örkény, a series of succinct, anecdotal novellas. Adversely, Imre Kertész's Fateless, winner of the 2002 Nobel prize for literature, is the tale of a young, Jewish Hungarian in Auschwitz.