It was said of the writer James Joyce that in order to artistically ‘breathe’ he had to ‘break all the windows’. It is an image that resonates with The Joy Formidable: this band is so desperate to be arena-successful, it will attempt edgy artistic nuance by destroying what little decent music it has. ‘Bats’ and ‘This Ladder is Ours’ just reek of excess: a constant clamour as each instrument tries to be heard over the other.

Still, Wolf’s Law does have its highlights, mostly when the band experiments. You can’t help but admire a band willing to write a song in five beats per bar: it shows a spirit of originality and at least an attempt to cover new ground. The simple plod of ‘Little Blimp’ is genuinely enjoyable, as a head-banging-offbeat
bass riff carries the main focus. There is a high point of the album, as well, in the song ‘Silent Treatment’, with its daintiness of tone, thoughtful instrumental delivery and skilful interweaving of melodies. 

The album is a demonstration of that tiresome cliché ‘less is more’. On the one hand, there are these mindless  walls of sound in ‘This Ladder is Ours’, the chorus of ‘Tendons’ and ‘The Leopard and The Lung’, which are all kinds of musical anaesthetics that numb the distinction between music and noise. 

But on the other, we get some beautiful understanding of the music, as in ‘Silent Treatment’ and the detailed composition of ‘The Hurdle’. It is certainly worth a listen, if you can ignore the moments of wanton over-production, and uncover this album’s rare little sparkles.

For the past two years, alternative music has been particularly retrospective, and Foxygen feel very much like the sum of their recent retro-rock influences, rather than anything more. The psychedelic slouch of 21st Century feels like a platonic imitation of an imitation. Foxygen do a good impression of The Black Keys, and an ever better one of Tame Impala, to whom they will inevitably (and unfavourably) be compared. The band’s imitative tendencies, however, mean they can only ever be so convincing in their own right. Foxygen make all the right noises, and that’s precisely the issue with this album: these noises have been made before, and made better. 

Foxygen’s commitment to a west-coast psychedelic aesthetic creates a strong sense of cohesion across these nine tracks, but feels rather slavish. Where there are moments of genuine emotional resonance, they are, without exception, tainted by the heavy-handed addition of a wig-out coda or a ‘whoa, dude!’ change of tempo or key. ‘Shuggie’ unfurls elegantly for all of a minute before it’s interrupted by a half-baked T-Mobile advert-soundalike chorus. ‘No Destruction’ and ‘Oh Yeah’ are similarly blunted by their long, inert concluding phrases, whilst ‘Bowling Trophies’ resembles just such a coda shorn of its parent song. 

On occasion, Foxygen cleverly subvert their tendency towards retro-worship. The all-male Ronettes-style harmonies of ‘On Blue Mountain’, for example, are genuinely funny, and swell within the piece to gorgeous beauty. Such moments of self-conscious humour, however, don’t disguise the truth they attempt to undermine. Their exhortations to “rearrange your mind/if it makes you feel fine”, or “chew on gum/if it makes you have fun” make 21st Century feel tie-dyed by numbers. If Foxygen are the 21st Century Ambassadors of Peace and Love, their album is their embassy. They have the flag and they speak the language, but the turf they tread is someone else’s.

The short rise of Joy Division and tragic early death of Ian Curtis is a story that has been told a great many times. Unknown Pleasures, the autobiography by Peter Hook (Joy Division and New Order bassist) doesn’t exactly shatter these legends, but it does ground them in the grubby and often unpleasant world of the late ‘70s post-punk movement.

A word of warning – if you don’t know a fair bit about Joy Division et al before going in, Unknown Pleasures can be a little impenetrable. Hook seems to assume fairly detailed awareness of the ins and outs of the scene as entry-level knowledge, and sometimes this can come across as a little alienating. On the other hand, the level of detail that has gone into this is often extremely rewarding. The focus in Unknown Pleasures is largely placed on the actual process of putting a band together and making music. The track-by-track analyses of Joy Division albums offer a depth that many other rock ’n’ roll-type memoirs don’t.

Similarly, the timelines of events that are placed after Hook’s narration present a nice offset to his personal experience, grounding his observations through newspaper clippings, reviews and old interview segments. The organisation of these different titbits does serve to break up the pace a little, but this offers some relief from the slightly bleak narration that is often on offer.

Yes, Unknown Pleasures is often a grim read: it’s safe to say that this is not an aspirational book, making the ‘band’ lifestyle seem about as much fun as a colonoscopy in the rain. Chapter after chapter describes grim hotels and terrible gigs. But there’s an admirable honesty in this that’s oddly appealing.

Similarly, most of Peter Hook’s memories of Ian Curtis are those of Curtis as “one of the lads” who would play pranks and get pissed with his mates. Not to say the more artistic parts of Ian Curtis did not exist – Hook is emphatic about this. Unknown Pleasures is an account of refreshing honesty – and one that any fan would be foolish to ignore. But it is unlikely to appeal to anyone less specifically interested.

Cherwell’s Verdict:
“Gripping, gritty psychological fantasy”

Tension abounds among the claustrophobic spaces of this psychological take on science fiction, written by Oxford student Eli Keren. The plot revolves around a mission to recover a mysterious object, the ‘Aleph’, about which the five members of the cast know nothing, and which they cannot discuss. Yet with the object successfully found, the play goes on to explore the rapidly increasing difficulties faced by a small ground under huge pressure, guarding a seductively dangerous object for which the one rule to obey is that “they
can’t open the case”.

There is something Lord-of-the-Rings-esque about the whole psychological/fantasy set-up; I am reminded particularly strongly of Merry’s
tantalising obsession with Sauramon’s seeing stone in the final instalment of the trilogy. Yet to compare Alex Wood (who plays Junks, the character most susceptible to the temptations of the forbidden Aleph) to a hobbit is to pass
over his truly convincing and at times shocking portrayal of his character’s mental disintegration.

All of the actors, but particularly Junks and Captain Evans (Will Law), excel in this gripping, gritty production, in a way which makes them highly believable even within the slightly heavy-handed dependence on the language of military fantasies (there is much talk of ‘secret missions’, ‘returning to base’ and ‘reporting to the commander’). Identical uniforms and a relatively stark backdrop of two chairs, some sandbags, and a few cans of baked beans,
means that all of the energy has to come from the characters themselves – and yet they undoubtedly carry it off in style.

Conversations fly, with each angry and F-word-spattered speech bounding off the last with a veneer of flawless confidence even five days before the opening night. But anger and instability isn’t all this cast is capable of: another particularly moving scene is between the young and vulnerable Madison (Lizhi Howard) and Captain Evans, whose tragic sacrifice just manages to skirt around the edge of sentimentality and remain within the realms of the genuinely moving.

The first half of this 70 minute play is, I am told, less dark than the extract I saw from later on, such that there may possibly be less emphasis on the psychological aspect at which these actors are so proficient.

But whilst I was unconvinced initially by the idea of science fiction, of which I cannot pretend usually to be a huge admirer, this play certainly won me over, and persuaded me of the genre’s huge potential for timeless relevance.

The Oxford drama scene is teeming with arts undergrads hoping to make it in the acting world after they graduate. However, the prospect of paying yet more money on yet another potentially pointless qualification can be more than a little off-putting. Former Oxford thesp Liam Stewart-George talks about his involvement with the Fourth Monkey Theatre Company and what taking your first steps as a professional actor is like.

How did you get involved with Fourth Monkey?
I didn’t want to go to drama school straight away having just done three years of a degree, but I was also daunted by the prospect of just attempting
to dive in to the career. So when I heard about this company it sounded like the ideal mixture of training and actually working in the industry.

What is Fourth Monkey?
It’s a repertory theatre company, part of which means they do intensive seasons of shows. A lot of famous actors who started off in repertory theatre swear by it; it teaches you the physical and mental stamina required and gets you learning on the job. This season, Fourth Monkey is doing a new play, adapted from a Kafka short story called In The Penal Colony, which we are devising ourselves. Fourth Monkey is a place where skills can be honed and developed, but also seeks to push boundaries and create bold, professional work.

What was your involvement with student theatre in Oxford?
I covered most bases, and would encourage aspiring thesps to do likewise.
Principally I acted, doing musicals such as The Dummy Tree, Sweeney Todd, and plays including Orphans and Tamburlaine, playing everything from an ageing Jewish man to Bottom as a ballet dancer turned street dancer. Icannot stress enough how you will never again have as much opportunity at your fingertips to perform as you do at Oxford. Get involved as much as possible.

What are you best and worst memories of being in Oxford theatre?
I have a couple of contenders for worst, the first being Much Ado About Nothing which I directed: my Don John decided to tell me the Sunday before opening that he couldn’t do the Friday performance, so on top of directing and producing the show I had to learn his part in four days. I was also involved in a production where a safety bar in the theatre fell down and almost killed a few audience members. My best memory is the production of Peter Pan I put on: we had limited resources but were bold in how we developed it and it got a superb reception.

What advice would you give to any budding thesps hoping to continue acting after Oxford?
I feel a bit of a charlatan offering advice to budding thesps, as I have barely scratched the surface of the industry myself! You have to have a thick skin and persevere; it is one of the few careers where you will undoubtedly get rejected repeatedly, often through no fault of your own. It’s tough but if you can enjoy the steps of the process then it will be a fulfilling career.However, clichéd as it may sound, if you truly love acting and can’t imagine doing anything else then do it.