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Rose McLaren

Rose McLaren is an artist in London.



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Talk Into My Bullet Hole

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July 2015

Rose McLaren

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July 2015

‘Someday people are going to read about you in a story or a poem. Will you describe yourself for those people?’ ‘Oh, I don’t...

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May 2014

Art Does Not Know a Beyond: On Karl Ove Knausgaard

Rose McLaren

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May 2014

Karl Ove Knausgaard’s My Struggle has an oddly medieval form: a cycle, composed of six auto-biographical books about the...

Keith was not the songwriter Darren and Stewart wrote the songs Keith hit things, some of which were drums He came in one day with a song and nobody wanted to play it The song was the least of their problems They had signed with a label, so their music was used in adverts and that, it brought in some dosh, they were shameless rock sluts because the fans downloaded the songs for free Slutdom was not the issue The issue was that the contract would not let them do independent gigs Keith had had an argument with them because the Arctic Monkeys, look at the fucking Arctic Monkeys, why the fuck can’t we do what the fucking Arctic Monkeys, this being the capacity for inarticulate rage which had made him a drummer in the first   And Darren and Stewart, being songwriters, had talked and talked and talked and talked to the point that there were signatures on the contract   Then the inconceivable had happened which is that Thom Yorke sent an email inviting them to do a gig Keith said they should just do it, fuck the fucking contract but Darren and stewart   So then Keith was very quiet Never a good sign Given Keith’s known propensity to hit things other than drums So Darren said they would record the song       Keith tried to explain his concept and Darren and Stewart kept arsing about and then Sean the keyboardist sussed that it was an arsing about session and then Keith put down his sticks Darren, Stewart and Sean sussed that the beat was gone Keith, says Darren What the fuck Keith disengaged from the scaffolding of things that could be hit that made noise   He stood up he walked across the floor while Darren, Stewart and Sean varied the theme of   What the fuck He took the mic from Darren In addition to not being a songwriter Keith was not a singer he dragged the lyrics of the song over reluctant vocal chords and spat them into the mic fucking great man said Darren who did not want another guitar percussioned to subatomic particles against wall,

Contributor

August 2014

Rose McLaren

Contributor

August 2014

Rose McLaren is an artist in London.

The Prosaic Sublime of Béla Tarr

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Issue No. 6

Rose McLaren

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Issue No. 6

I have to recognise it’s cosmical; the shit is cosmical. It’s not just social, it’s not just ontological, it’s really huge. And that’s why we...
Stalker, Writer or Professor? Geoff Dyer's Zona and Genre

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February 2012

Rose McLaren

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February 2012

‘So what kind of a writer am I, reduced to writing a summary of a film?’ wonders Geoff Dyer half way through Zona. Such...

READ NEXT

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February 2015

Greece and the Poetics of Crisis

Joshua Barley

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February 2015

On the Aegean island of Skyros, in the Carnival period immediately preceding Lent, a more ancient ritual takes place....

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Issue No. 19

Ill Feelings

Alice Hattrick

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Issue No. 19

My mother recently found some loose diary pages I wrote in my first year of boarding school, aged eleven,...

poetry

October 2012

Saint Anthony the Hermit Tortured by Devils

Stephen Devereux

poetry

October 2012

  Sassetta has him feeling no pain, comfortable even, Yet stiffly dignified at an odd angle like the statue...

 

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