I’m unsure whether this is a bit of publicity stunt, or simply because of twattery.

Although there are reports elsewhere that suggest businessman Billy Palmer wants to keep the mural and convert the pub into a shop and bar, The Grauniad reports that Palmer wants to get rid of the rat and turn the building into ‘luxury flats’.

I suspect, and I hope I’m right, that this is a bit of scouse ribbing on the part of Palmer, who presumably know how well talk of more ‘luxury flats’ will go down in Chinatown, especially if that involves destroying some quite brilliant public art.

The Grauniad also reports that the rat on the side of the Whitehouse is ‘holding a machine gun’, which suggests a spot of remote copy filing to me, so I don’t know how much faith we can put in its reporting on this matter.

If he’s serious Palmer wouldn’t be the first to try to destroy the Banksy rat – which is clearly holding a marker pen that it has used to scrawl all over the building, for anyone doubting the meaning of the image – after Liverpool’s idiot City Council decided it was going to destroy it a few years ago.

Personally I’m all for keeping the artwork as is, derelict building and all. I’ve watched with dismay as the Ropewalks veers towards another cut-and-shut luxury flat and drinking pit grid.

The council has recently put together some sort of steering group to make sure Ropewalks doesn’t fall into disrepair, though I don’t think they’re talking about the disgusting state of Concert Square and Slater Street on a Friday night.

Bars and binge drinking may be the price of progress, but there are 101 derelict buildings in Ropewalks that the council could look at before its starts OK-ing the destruction of public works of art that bring something unique to the area, beyond the array of Jackson Pollocks that pebble dash the area in the early hours.

The other two corners of Berry Street and Duke Street would be a start.

• Image courtesy of Dave the Pap

The fact is, though, due to diminishing time and a lot less potential choices – compared to the Capital of Culture year – I’ve struggled to find that many things to weigh up this year.

Work, cricket and an expansion of my blog commitments elsewhere mean that I’ve found it tough to devote as much time to wandering around galleries and the like over the last twelve months.

But quite a few of the people I asked to help me to compile the best of 2009 in Liverpool have also found it tough.

Is it evidence of a cultural hangover in Liverpool? Perhaps, but realistically it’s probably that there have been less headline events.

If I cast my mind back I can bring to mind an excellent late season run at the Everyman and Playhouse; Stephen Shakeshaft and Franceso Mellina at the Conservation Centre, Bridget Riley at the Walker; Abandon Normal Devices at FACT; The Beat Goes On at World Museum; a great series of Liverpool University talks at the Phil; the Magical Mystery Tour at the Maritime Museum; White Feather at the Beatles Story; Liverpool Beer Festival; and the annual treat of the Picket’s Christmas quiz. And my gratitude to the Picturehouse for showing The Thing, amongst plenty other leftfield fare.

Elsewhere the Leeds-Liverpool canal opened; Michael Shields finally won freedom; people power on Hope Street defeated Tesco; Liverpool’s food and drink festival was a victim of its own success; there was cricket in the park during the Ashes, while LCC hosted a sell-out 20/20 featuring Freddie Flintoff; Macca and Gordon Brown paid visits to the Pool; Liverpool Tweetups; and Liverpool signed off as Capital of Culture with the Transition Light Night.

Stuff that I meant to go to but didn’t make include a couple of apparently-amazing gigs by the Wild Swans; several nights at the Kazimier people raved about; I kicked myself for a week over missing Colour Chart at the Tate; and no doubt half a dozen other gigs I intended to see.

Stuff I’m still uncertain about includes Liverpool One; the Echo Arena; the raft of new buildings at the waterfront; the same cast of dodgy political characters continually wrangling in city hall; and the city’s continued post-Capital direction.

Still, there’s no denying that there’s plenty of stuff still going on in the city.

My own favourite was the Long Night of the AND Festival – one of those great, infrequent, nights where Liverpool is transformed into an all-singing, all-dancing cultural space and unlikely treats can be found around every corner.

I’ve asked a group of people well placed in media, music, arts and other general culture vultures to venture their high- and lowlights of Liverpool in 2009, plus a typically-Scouse detour on the 80A bus.

So, browse the assorted thoughts below, and Claire’s fantastic doodle, and let me know your own thoughts.

Etsu

In Japan there is a chain of fast-food outlets whose symbol is a terrifying cartoon granddad who looks like Buster Merryfield on Buckfast. It’s called ‘Beard Papa’ and it sells – what else? – cream puffs.

Until Beard Papa has muscled Greggs off our high streets and sickly-sweet pastry balls injected with tepid fake cream replaces chip butties as workmen’s lunchtime snack of choice, the ‘Japanification’ of Britain will be incomplete.

But our embrace of Japan grows every year. In 2009 I discovered something unimaginable even three years ago – perfect, authentic sushi served in Liverpool.

Etsu, located at Beetham Plaza, has actually been going since late 2007 and won several local ‘restaurant of the year’ awards in 2008, but it remains under the radars of most who live in Liverpool.

Run by David Abe, a friendly, half-Japanese, half-Scouse local businessman, it employs genuine Japanese sushi chefs who were apprenticed in Japan – unlike the vast majority of places where sushi is served in the UK. It shows.

The sashimi (raw fish), nigiri (raw fish and rice) and maki (raw fish, rice and seaweed) is super-fresh, exquisitely prepared and succulent. Meals are enhanced by the genuine Japanese extras on the menu, the pickles, the edamame (soybeans in their pods), the miso (clear soup) and gyoza (dumplings). To drink, as well as beers and wines, there is a choice selection of sakes.

I’ve been to Japan on several occasions and never eaten sushi like this outside the country. As well as the food, Etsu gets the ambience exactly right.

Sushi is often served as a either delicate, high-end food, or a canteen-style snack in Britain whereas in Japan, sushi places are very much neighbourhood restaurants, humble, friendly, informal, but proud of their high-standard cuisine.

It’s like this at Etsu, which is run as scrupulously as a Michelin-starred eaterie and yet is as relaxed as Bill Murray in Lost in Translation. I doubt you’d get better Japanese food anywhere in Britain.

Jonathan Northcroft

Dreaming of Liverpool

• Click here for a larger version

Claire Pitt
A Little Piece of Me

OMD, Sound City and Alma de Cuba

While OMD at the Phil were astoundingly good, I secretly wished I could have heard the mighty RLPO more. Despite its continued favour with orchestras, they’ve yet to fashion an oboe engineered to be heard above the sound of 2,000 geography teachers clapping more-or-less in time to Enola Gay. Still, there’s always the DVD to fill in the bits I missed.

Louder and even more thrilling was Liverpool Sound City – and, for me, the standout night was Heartbreak and Metronomy at Alma De Cuba.

Liverpool’s at its best when everyone’s invited to the party, and, during Sound City, it was like Liverpool’s great music-loving massive (those not sated by Argentinian Beatles tribute acts in August, anyhow) were darting around, catching impromptu performances by Brooklyn starlets here and this summer’s festival must-sees there. Actually, that’s exactly what it was.

Alma’s a great venue, but there’s still a whiff of the cassock about it. Not this night.

The pulpit was possessed – and we were all pogo-ing along, throwing our cares, and our expensive chill-filtered vodkas, to the winds – like that episode of Songs of Praise where the continuity announcer warns ‘this programme contains strong language and violence from the outset’.

As Cliff said, ‘Why should the Devil have all the good music?’.

David Lloyd
Skrift

Go Penguins

I’ll put in a quick word for what I hated about 2009: Go Bloody Penguins.

Open letter to Wild In Art, the company behind the penguins and 2008′s Superlambananas: Please don’t do another one in 2010.

If this sort of project becomes a tradition Liverpool is going to wind up looking like a crap Noah’s Ark.

To everyone else I say this: Avoid them like the plague. Unless you’re driving a fire-shooting Bradley tank.

Nick Holloway
Mercy

Irish ups and downs

So after a brilliant year in 2008 – one that started with the most hope and optimism I think I have ever had along with pride in the city – I thought I should carry some of that over to 09 and try to get to as many gigs and shows as possible.

It kind of worked with one significant high and one very memorable low.

Let’s start with the low – Lord of the Dance at the Empire Theatre. Dear Lord, I have never been more embarrassed of the Irish culture in my life – or rather the bastardisation of it.

Neon costumes, fastened with velcro and stripped off on stage to reveal what can only be described as bikini-clad Irish dancers. Horrendous.

The music, the effects – everything bloody awful. What annoyed me more was that some people thought it was good – if not great.

Thankfully I had the experience of dancing in the aisles to Sharon Shannon at the Philharmonic Hall.

The most beautiful sound: energetic, full of passion and the gig made me smile and remember seeing her as a much younger girl with my dad.

2009 – I made some of my best memories and looked back on many more.

Mairead Smyth

Liverpool’s hangover

Liverpool, 2009. What a bastard of a hangover, eh? Granted, I was away for half of it, but what I did see just seemed like a tidal wave of diarrhea.

Aye, this last year was the year that Liverpool ate itself. All that potential that seemed to be brewing under throughout the tail end of the 90s and Liverpool spunked its load on a Jetsons-style shopping centre, an arena that’s not as big as Manchester’s and a year that proved we can put on a party, but are not so good at the come-down.

The City Centre became more aggressive; previously cool bars were either uprooted or became drowned in scallydom; even the Burritos didn’t taste quite as good.

Musically, the only bands that were ever mentioned in the local media seemed to be well into their middle age. Mostly talented, granted, but very provincial.

I used to guffaw on my trips home, to find the Sheffield Star still talking about Boy on a Dolphin or Babybird, now the Echo is the same.

So come ‘ed Liverpool, summon some of that much vaunted Scouse Spirit and do something interesting in 2010; or carry on drowning in a pool of yer own sick.

Simon Ryder

Blue Heaven

My overriding memory of 2009 has got to be beating Manchester United in the FA Cup semi-final on penalties at Wembley.

OK, we didn’t go on to win the cup in the end. But beating Man U at Wembley was still a special experience. To win on penalties in the manner we did was something else.

My sister’s boyfriend, a Man U fan, was sat next to me in the Everton end.

His face was such a picture when Phil Jagielka netted the last penalty and the Blue end erupted.

While football may not count as culture in many peoples’ book, the FA Cup semi-final is the highlight of my 2009.

David Bartlett
Dale Street Blues

Wood Bus

Late in the year there was an incident which reminded me that if nothing else, Liverpool still has the capacity to be inexplicable. 

It was on a cold evening at the end of November, during rush hour, when I was braving the fourth ring of hell that is our local bus service.

After fighting to the back of an 80A to a seat that everyone else was ignoring, I set about trying to read my newspaper which, though Berliner-sized these days, still isn’t conducive to being dealt with in a crowded area.

After a few stops the bus began to thin out a bit, and as I looked up from the theatre reviews, I noticed that a double seat had become empty across the aisle from me.  As I was about to move over to give myself some more room, I noticed that the seat was already occupied.  By a Yule log.

I say it was a Yule log.  It was certainly large and squat and resembled the stump that the log lady in Twin Peaks used to carry round.  Its yuleness was probably just an attribution for the time of year. 

In June it probably would have simply been a log.  But it was the end of November, the season of good(ish) will beckoned and so for the purposes of this anecdote let’s call it a Yule log. Yule for short. I took a picture. 

As you can see the wooden enigma was minding its own business, but most significantly didn’t look like it would take kindly to having my arse sitting on top of it, probably about as impressed as my arse would be finding itself trying to get comfy on that bark. 

I could not help but stare, like this was some spectral herald for the upcoming festivities and a reminder that I needed to buy some more presents.

The intellectual part of my brain which I often let out to visit on occasions such as this assumed that it was owned by one of the passengers and so since I was already sitting, my seat already warm, I thought no more of it and returned to enviously lapping up the offerings in the west end that I was missing.

Presently, someone, a student probably, with a huge backpack, who had previously been standing approached. He asked the woman sitting diagonally opposite if they owned the log. They denied all knowledge. He attracted the attention of the teenager directly opposite who was listening to Kings
of Leon. She shrugged.

Undeterred he worked his way through all of the people in the vicinity. Including me. No, we each said in turn, we didn’t know anything about it. Do we look like we’d know anything about it? 

The student, having ascertained that no one would admit to ownership of the log, simply walked away.  He didn’t put it on the floor.  He didn’t pick it up and sit down. He stepped back down the aisle and continued to stand.

Clearly the log will have had previous ownership and that owner, presumably on their way to a Twin Peaks meet-up, may have left the bus and then realised their mistake turned balefully as the bus sped off into the distance. 

Could they have phoned the bus company’s lost property when they returned home? “I left a Yule log on the bus. A log. Well, it is November.”

I passed by Yule on my way off the bus at my destination.  I imagined, given that no one would take responsibility for it, because it was small enough not be noticed by the driver, Yule continued his journey indefinitely and unconcerned about its fellow passengers, arrogantly taking up two seats. 

He could still be out there now, somewhere, going from the centre to Speke, round and round and round again.

Stuart Ian Burns
Feeling Listless

Glenn Brown

Know from the start I’m a fraud. We’re a few days shy of 2010 and I am eyes-to-ceiling trying to recall the hundreds of cultural events I’ve attended in Liverpool so I can select this year’s favourite.

Only there aren’t hundreds to pick from. Not even half that number. We might even be down to double figures – but only just, and that includes the Nouvelle Vague gig, which I know was brilliant but remains hazy, let’s say. My god, what have I been doing? And it’s not culture’s fault either; it’s mine!

The shame has prompted a new year’s resolution, that’s for sure. Even so, I don’t want this to detract from the considerable talents of my choice because the Glenn Brown exhibition at the Tate, which rocked up in February, really packed some punches.

I hadn’t seen this English painter’s work before so I had few expectations. I knew he was in the business of reproducing other artists’ work – such as Rembrandt, Dali and Auerbach – in his own style to develop them, or reduce them, as some might argue, into a new work. And I also knew his art was littered with pop culture references.

I was immediately struck by the macabre sense of playfulness in his art. He’s confrontational, dark and provocative and also funny. As a result, I found myself curious and uncomfortable. In the next moment laughing and, in the next moment, repulsed and confused!

I adore Frank Auerbach, so I was particularly in awe of Brown’s ability to replicate the thick, gloopy brushstrokes – the ones that look edible – that are synonymous with Auerbach and others like him.

And I’m glad I enjoyed Brown’s borrowing skills; it could have gone the other way. No-one likes a poor impersonator, do they?

Even Brown’s picture titles smack of pop culture satire: ‘The Great Masturbator (2006)’ as opposed to Salvador Dali’s onanist in 1929, and ‘Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London, I’ll show you something to make you change your mind (1992)’ give you a taste of his delicious naughtiness.

It was a strange exhibition, evoking a range of emotions, which is a real coup in my book.

I often felt as though I was looking at something that was violating beauty, like the portraits of eyeless people, which was unsettling – but a little crunch of humour in other rooms lightened the discomfort.

The exhibition felt important too. I admired Brown’s shock tactics, his thoughtfulness and, at times, ingenuity and I wanted to know more about him; the artist.

Like leaving the cinema dying to talk about your best bits, I left full of awe, chattering on about nothing in particular, I’m sure – but he’d hooked me in.

I felt like I’d found someone new I’d always remember and look out for, and I love it when that happens.

Tori H-D
Twiverpool on Twitter

Daniel Johnston

I was introduced to Daniel Johnston a few years ago, in my days of working in a record store. I kinda liked him, but was probably a bit more into harder / metally stuff at the time and kinda left him be. An intriguing character, with a lot of history relating to manic depression which is reflected in his songs.

I was pretty excited about seeing him despite the 1am stage time he had. Kurt Cobain was quoted as revealing that Daniel was his favourite songwriter too. Anyway, he came on stage and did nothing but impress, quiet, quaint and reserved initially leading into some pretty rocking stuff with Liverpool band Hot Club de Paris as his backing.

I think people can I either like or loathe Daniel, he’s messy, loose, his voice quivers but for me his lyrics and songs are so touching and full of emotion, you don’t even notice technicalities. Whether it be about lost loves / loneliness or comic book heroes, he pulls it off with passion.

A brilliant end to a mammoth night of trekking between gigs for Liverpool Music Week.

Matt Thomas
Mattthomas.co.uk

A city at ease with itself

There was a danger that 2009 in Liverpool would feel a bit like after the Lord Mayor’s show, what with Capital of Culture ending and all that.

Thankfully we don’t have an elected Mayor and won’t for as long as the drones in the town hall have anything to say about it, so there was no sense of disappointment after his carriage had passed us by, because it didn’t exist in the first place, or something. I’m not really sure where I was going with the mayor thing, but suffice to say, 2009 was great.

To me, 2008 was like electric shock therapy which made the city and the world wake up to what we have on our own doorstep.

Now the Culture hoopla is over, in 2009 we have been left to enjoy ourselves around a city that we now recognise as pretty great – be that a pub crawl at the top end (I’d recommend the Phil, with eats at the Everyman Bistro), enjoying the waterfront or living it up in Mathew Street.

Liverpool is at ease with itself, wearing a smoking jacket, cravat and slippers as it warms its hands of the embers of what was once a beautiful imaginary mayor’s coach. And long may that continue.

Neil Macdonald
Scyfilove.com

I’ve followed Smit ever since I read his book on Eden, an extraordinary, inspirational book about one man’s fight with nature, administrators, economics, common sense and received wisdom.

I read the book as I, along with two friends, were in the process of battling various Quangos, competitors, truculent advertisers, the dole office and abject penury to produce the magazine that eventually became Black+White.

The similarities don’t really go much beyond that, as Smit managed to build the eighth wonder of the world and we produced eight copies of the listings guide which was a critical success but a commercial disaster.

Still, I took a lot of the lessons learned to heart and have remained inordinately impressed by Smit, a likeable, charismatic, forward-thinking, self-deprecating and extremely able man.

Smit’s talk was based loosely on the theme of the environment and took the influence of Liverpool biologist Tony Bradshaw as a starting point.

But the talk soon veered away towards a more general approach ( I hesitate to use the word ‘holistic’, because it’s bloody awful), taking aim at nothing less than the entire received wisdom of politics, administration, housing, ecology and work.

With Heligan and Eden under his belt, Smit is now helping to save Mauritius (or, more accurately, helping Mauritius to save itself) and is involved in the bidding to build an eco town.

I hope he succeeds. Smit’s message is optimistic on the environment – he’s simply that kind of guy. I’m less optimistic, because while the likes of Smit are thought of highly they’re rarely indulged at the highest levels.

I get the impression that Smit’s approach to red tape, pessimism, realpolitik, vested interests, intransigence, institutionalism and rank stupidity would blow through the corridors of power like a cleansing hurricane if allowed – but how do you change decades of entrenched interests and mindsets?

During his talk I was reminded of Adam Curtis’s documentary on game theory – The Trap – which proposed the idea of government, civil service, people and business essentially at war with one another and themselves, thus maintaining a deliberate status quo.

Curtis’ documentary looks at the two concepts of liberty: positive liberty, involving the empowerment of people to take control of their own destinies; and negative liberty, the freedom to live a life free from the restraints of others.

Its a subtle distinction, but Smit’s talk seemed to me to propose a shift from the latter to the former, and his credentials and rhetoric indicate that, if there’s anyone capable of catalysing this transformation, it’s him.

We need more like him but, as a questioner pointed out, few of the rest of us are Tim Smits, as I found out several years ago.

• You can watch the first part of The Trap and watch Smit’s lecture at these respective links.

No, I’m a big fan of not fixing things that ain’t broke, but this strikes me as a little unimaginative.

However, it also opens up some intriguing possibilities for events around the city in the future. Her are some:

Go bats!

Bats start springing up around the city. Actually I’d enjoy this one.

Go ballistic!

Ballistic missiles start springing up around the city, each one representing a different country.

Go mad!

Mental health awareness.

Go nuts!

To raise awareness of testicular cancer, testicles start springing up around the city. Kids could be encouraged to go testicle-hunting, with dozens of balls hidden around Liverpool’s sights, landmarks and monuments.

At the conclusion of the event a giant testicle bounces down Lime Street.

Go crackers!

Celebrating crackers from around the world

Go to the foot of your stairs!

People all over Liverpool go to the foot of their stairs to raise awareness of stair-related injuries.

Go commando!

Celebrities such as Ricky Tomlinson and Warren Bradley wear their pants on their heads for a day.

Go Greek!

(That’s enough Go! festivals – Ed)

Anyway, although all of this is facetious in the extreme, I’m sure the Go Penguins events will be fun and successful.

Although there was a lot of sniffiness about the SLBs I thought they were a good way of connecting with kids, and I expect this new programme to be equally successful.

Funded by DaDa Disability and Deaf Arts and supported by the Lord Mayor of Liverpool, Cllr Steve Rotheram, there are two categories: under- and over-18s.

I’ve been reading through the entries and thought I’d flag them up, as they’re a good mix of the reverential, celebratory and amusing.

This couplet in particular amused me:

But a word of warning, avoid Granby Street My friend
Because that even makes me nervous.

All of them seem uniquely scouse to me, which I mean as a compliment, though I was sad to note that self-proclaimed People’s Poet, Tony Chestnut Brown did not submit a poem.

Since my media nodes, and time, are naturally limited I failed to get any sort of inside scoop, but How Do reports a number of interesting factoids, including:

• Finch was originally to be awarded the pitch without it being put out to tender, resulting in some understandable consternation from other agencies in the region

• A second pitching stage saw three agencies bidding for the roll-out of the branding and launch, using the logo already designed by Finch

• An original strapline reading ‘Alive with Imagination’ was removed when it met with ‘a pretty poor reception from everyone unfortunate enough to have seen it’.

• A number of companies competed for various components of the brief, which seems bafflingly complicated.

• Phil Redmond has had nothing to do with the branding. He is apparently in a huff after disagreeing with the direction of the branding.

I think I’ve got all of that right, the pitching process seems rather labyrinthine to me. From what I can work out the branding is handled by Uniform and the website by Ripple Effect.

Additionally, the whole brief cost around £100K according to How Do, which was less than the initial £150K bandied around.

The site also indicates the thinking behind the rebrand, from a council document in late 2008:

A council report released last week detailed the motivation behind the re-brand, noting how successful rival cities were at positioning themselves on one quality or brand value (eg “Paris is romance, Milan is style”).

This leaves me to wonder what the soundbite from this rebrand actually is. Are we still going with Liverpool – Third Best?

I’m happy to start off the debate about what it should be here and now. Feel free to join in.

Liverpool – Better Than Manchester

Liverpool – Ey Mate!

Liverpool – Now With Massive New Shopping Centre

Liverpool – Home of Sex and the City’s Kim Cattrall

Imagined conversations on Liverpool new logo:

“So, we need a logo that mixes the old with the new, the vibrant with the classical, old architecture versus the new architecture. The Beatles AND The Wombats, The Cavern AND Cream, Protestant AND Catholic, Liverpool AND Everton, Yosser Hughes AND Danielle Lloyd, Yin AND Yang, forward not backward, blue and, er, light blue.”

“And we need to have some horrible tower blocks in it for, y’know, business and shit.”

“How about a two-tone pictures of some cool Liverpool landmarks, plus those shit tower blocks?”

“Wouldn’t that look like the Thames TV logo?“

“Yes. But lets get some slebs in to tell us what they think of it. Say Abby from The Zutons, that bloke from Cream, some woman who owns a boutique and the director of the School for Tropical Medicine.”

“What have they got to do with it?”

“Absolutely nothing, but we’ll call them brand ambassadors and say they form a wide cross-section of Liverpool society.”

“Love it! OK, I’ll send this down to design. By the way, how much are we going to charge for this?”

“Oooh. 50 grand? Plus £20K for research. There’s a recession on after all…”

OK, in all seriousness there’s nothing to get hugely worked up about here – unlike Liverpool’s ‘Third Best’ slogan – I’m irritated that Liverpool is apparently now being branded with those bloody tower blocks, which amount to rich people’s playthings, and the font is obviously rubbish.

But although it’s traditional to have a punt at new logos (this one’s by Finch, who did the 08 logo), as any rent-a-gob can sound off about a scribbled logo, I don’t doubt the value of branding and marketing. But £70,000? Really?

If Liverpool Vision had any sense it would have launched a competition for graphic designers in the city to submit their own and give the winner a grand as a prize.

The result would be just as good and £69K could instantly go on something more sensible – a statue of Craig Charles perhaps?

Edit: There’s a new website up all about the new 09 branding. I don’t want to be pointlessly snarky, so I’ll offer up the following without comment:

So who are we? We’re genuine. The only front here is the waterfront. The only airs we put on are the tunes we play. Say what you mean, that’s what we say.

It hits the nail on the head about Korova in that it ignored the jingly-jangly stoned cosmic scouse thing that was all the rage in Liverpool a few years ago, and I quite like Korova even if a stupid haircut seems to be a pre-requisite to get in these days.

The piece reminds me a bit of the kind of thing we used to have in Black+White, the magazine that I ran along with half of Liverpool’s journalistic fraternity a few years ago. One of our very last blags as the people behind B+W was to get into the Korova opening night a few year ago.

Here’s a bit of the article, which doesn’t merit a by-line for some reason, and a link:

Merseyside’s live music scene has traditionally been dominated by retro-leaning guitar bands. By contrast, Korova has made a name for itself by hosting exciting, forward-thinking acts who meld dance and rock: arty New Yorkers Liars and Celebrations played the opening night; Klaxons’ first show outside London was at Korova; and CSS, Crystal Castles, Friendly Fires, Late Of The Pier and Soulwax’s deck-wrecking alter-ego 2ManyDJs have all performed riotous sets at here.

Crucially, however, Korova hasn’t alienated the old guard – you’re just as likely to see Ian McCulloch or Pete Wylie sweep through its stencilled glass doors as you are Murph from The Wombats.

In fairness I’m not sure Wylie’s ever found a bar he didn’t like, but that’s by-the-bye. I don’t exactly consider an encounter with ‘Murph from The Wombats’ a reason to head down there either but I’m sure all the cool kids do.

“Every night, the bar draws people from different crowds and everyone sits happily together,” concludes [Ruben] Wu, ruminating on Korova’s enviable sense of community.

I haven’t been in Korova for a while, but the toilets seemed to play host to Liverpool’s largest fruit fly community. If that’s what the kids are into these days, who am I to argue?

I’m inordinately amused by Liverpool’s new slogan: Liverpool: The UK’s third favourite city.

This appears in the new official city guide book, according to Liverpool.com, and will be splashed across 150,000 copies in tourist agencies globally.

The source of this proud claim? Conde Nast magazine’s Best UK Cities Awards, apparently, the recognised authority on the UK’s favouritest cities, I think you’ll agree.

It’s only a good job this source wasn’t used as inspiration for Liverpool’s slogan in 2003, when the city came 11th out of the UK’s favourite cities. Or a Daily Telegraph poll, which didn’t place Liverpool in the top six.

Sadly I’ve been unable to work out who the top two are, which is a pity because the suggestion that Manchester was voted in one of the top two spots is too delicious to contemplate.

I’ve stopped being surprised at Liverpool’s ability to repeatedly shoot itself in the foot, but this a cracker. What was wrong with a reference to the Capital of Culture or, much as it pains me to say it, Liverpool One?

And what’s wrong with Liverpool – The Pool of Life? Granted it’s a bit hackneyed, but Jung came up with that one, and it’s free.

Even a Liverpool: Calm Down would have raised a smile, as opposed to a nonplussed shrug.

Scousers rarely take too kindly to the idea that they’re second-best to anyone or anything, let alone third-best. That given, I can’t see this being a popular or long-lived slogan.

Although as a result of this excellent rebranding I look forward to LFC’s new slogan (Liverpool Football Club: Fourth best in the Permiership most years) and The Wombats’ (The Wombats: Worst anything ever).

Bradley received a qualified clean sheet last week by an investigation – which called him ‘naive’, ‘unwise’ and showing ‘a lack of good judgement’ – into whether he conspired with Deputy Mayor Mike Storey to bully Culture Company boss Jason Harborow out of his job and make him a scapegoat for the failed Mathew Street Festival.

In the email Bradley reveals that he nearly quit during the investigation and, in time-honoured fashion, takes a pot-shot at the media for its ‘vitriolic’ coverage.

In even more time-honoured fashion – for Liverpool City Council anyway – the email was subsequently leaked, though it is not clear whether by friend or by foe. After the last two years Bradley probably doesn’t know which is which anyway.

Anyway, I’m sure Bradley will see the funny side – it was a leaked email that kicked off the last 18 months’ worth of nonsense.

Although quite what was so vitriolic about press coverage, apart from pointing out that Bradley had been stupid to host a clandestine meeting with a former council employee who was in the process of suing the council, is debatable – barring the decidedly damning host of blogs that sprung up around the original Evil Cabal website.

Nevertheless, some of the coverage is almost valedictory: ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’, says Dale Street Blues. I’m not sure I agree. As the Standards Board report notes, Bradley may have damaged his reputation with the Harborow affair.

It seemed clear that as of last year’s elections his star wasn’t exactly riding high, after a desperate marriage of convenience was required to keep the Lib Dems in power. After this affair Bradley may limp along for another year of absurd photo opportunities, but the sharks will be circling.

From: Bradley, Warren (Leader of the City Council)
Sent: 05 February 2009 13:34
Subject: PRIVATE & CONFIDENTIAL – Standards Board

Dear All,

In case you haven’t heard already, I have today been informed of the outcome regarding the allegations that were made about me to the standards board for England.

The outcome is that I have NOT breached any of the ‘code of conduct’ and NO further action will taken against me.

Can I thank my colleagues who stuck by me throughout the last 18+ months; it has put a tremendous strain on me and my family, and at times I was minded to throw my hand in.

The press coverage has been vitriolic against me and I now hope I am given the opportunity to a response.

Thanks again, I feel slightly relieved to say the least.

Best wishes

Warren