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HULL INDEPENDENT MAGAZINE AND OPEN-ACCESS WEBSITE.
“Voices from the street and the sound of the Suburbs!”
Welcome to Tenfootcity. The alternative name for the city of Hull, East Yorkshire, England. Tenfootcity is also the name of our physical street magazine as well as this on-line sister magazine. It’s an independent magazine by the people, for the people and with the people of this City and the wider area, all in a language and style we can identify with. The reason this magazine was devised and launched is because we decided we wanted to reflect (independently of any mainstream media) what we consider, to be exciting times for Hull and East Yorkshire. This City is fast becoming more socially and culturally significant than it ever has been (as recently exmplified by the HULL FREEDOM FESTIVAL) and we, as a true street magazine, want to highlight and encourage that transformation. We are Hull and we’re proud of it!
(Now Click on our “About” tab to find out more about us, our street magazine and this open-access website……)
When it comes down to music Hull has always been a little incestuous. Ask any self respecting musician in this city how many bands they’re in and they’ll most likely have to stop to take there shoes and socks off to count. Inevitably they fracture and reform with new members and new sounds. Some of the best bands have come from the break ups of other groups The Holy Orders, The Beautiful South, you get the idea. As you can imagine I was gutted, deeply upset and practically inconsolable when I heard the heart-wrenching news that the Sorry Loves had split up (I’m tearing up a again as I type, dear reader). Luckily James Waudby (also of Salako, see what I mean) and Jason Heslewood formed The Horse Guards Parade out of the debris who already have an EP of alternative indie tunes full of spaghetti Western drums (”When the plane lifted it’s wheels”) warm heartfelt acoustica (”Sunshine on the radio”) and sunny 60’s psychedelia (the brilliantly titled “It’s The Smell of Grief In Your Teeth”). I’m Sorry Love, but I much prefer this equine incarnation. The world of Hip-Hop isn’t immune either as a certain group of guys we featured a few years ago have decided to give up their wild ways, straighten out and become model citizens having dropped the “Holligan” moniker in favor of the more streamlined “The Gang”. Now a three piece the remaining members Blakk, Ceekay, Heatrock are still creating the slickest, effortless sounding rock tinged hip-hop you’re likely to find including the full on rock tinged monster “Just Wanna Know” which has No 1 Single written across it and the cool and confident “Kick & Snare” Essential info The Gang Horse Guards Parade
Just Imagine Your Mother has buried you in the ground, she’s wept tears and worn black and now, as she’s clearing your house of it’s contents, your old lady opens a bedroom draw and discovers a 16 inch petrol-powered dildo and an envelope full of lurid Polaroid’s of you, your partner and that couple you met on holiday in Corfu. Sure it was a great night. Everyone was high on wine and willing to experiment. It’s not something you’d advertise, nor is it something you regret, and yet, as you stare down at your nearest and dearest wiping off suspicious flakes from the “Black Mamba 2000″ and burning the sex photos in the kitchen sink you realise that one thing is gospel and true. Nobody really knows anybody. Everyone has secrets. Embarrassing desires and illicit thoughts. Some, the brave, shameless and the mentally-insane have few things to hide. They it let all hang out and do not fear the consequences of their actions and it must be a very nice way to live. You can say anything, feel anything and want anything and not have to worry what other people think of you. Ok, you might get punched in the face occasionally, you might even get arrested, but at least you’re not keeping it all in. If you ask the average person what they really want, they give you the pre-recorded common responses; I want love, I want money, I want peace. I want my husband, my wife, my kids.’ All pretty standard stuff and all fine choices, but dig a little bit deeper. Pause, roll a cigarette and think about it. Pretend that nobody’s listening and nobody cares and that if you didn’t admit the absolute truth and sing it from the rooftops, somewhere in Neverland, a fairy will die. It’s a dangerous exercise. Some will want to shag their next door neighbour, tell their best friend they love them or tell their lover they no longer do. Others will want to walk out the door and leave everything behind; the kids, the wife, the trinkets of life. Sure there are those who would want nothing more than a Giant Toblerone and a blow job and all I can say to those people is, lucky you! If your imagination doesn’t stretch beyond oral sex and confectionary then you’re probably very good in bed. Still, do not fear that your desires are destined to be caged. Just because something isn’t socially acceptable or morally-sound today, doesn’t mean it won’t be tomorrow. Imagine those long cold years of homosexual repression, generations of men and women who had to hide their want, only for the state to one day turnaround and declare it all to be legally acceptable. Personally, if I was gay, I would have been buggering my butch lover up the gates of Downing street in spite of the law. I barely pay attention to what I say, myself, never mind what nonsense the state, or law, spouts. I was highly tempted to concentrate on the whole government expenses business, this issue, but it’s rather a boring subject. The only thing I find amusing about it, is the fact that people are crying that their money is being spent on moat-cleaners and women’s underwear….. well here’s a news flash ladies and gentlemen: It’s all pretty fucked really, and perhaps it always was, and in the end the very best that we can hope for is that when we breathe our last breath, and leave this rock for good, a good friend of ours will find our Dildo, laugh their arse off and chuck it in the outside bin. At least….. I hope they’d chuck it in the bin. There is nothing more disconcerting than the sight of a second-hand sex toy for sale on e-bay. Still, maybe it is better if all of our skeletons fall out of the closet. Lee Cassanell P.S. I’d like to big up the Hull Truck Theatre which has finally opened it’s doors. They’ve managed to retain the charm and accessibility of the old building, everything looks pretty and new and I, for one, am impressed from my boots to my bonnet. Hull finally has an artistic base it can celebrate and be proud of and I cannot applaud the driving forces behind the project hard enough. A job well done indeed and if I could take them all out for an evening of scotch and strippers, I would gladly do so.
(Well, what would Mr. Obama say? Yes….) Like many people, I’ve never given allotments a great deal of thought; or if I have, it’s been coloured by memories of childhood visits to muddy hell-holes to see my granddad. I recall dour men, grimly eking a couple of sorry-looking radishes from patches of soil that looked like slag-pits and one rum old cove who – for reasons best known to himself and his CPN – kept the rust-ravaged shell of a Morris Minor on his plot that each year yielded a bumper crop of stinging nettles. Mostly, I got the impression that the whole point of allotment-keeping was to escape “The Wife” by skulking in a shed. I saw them peering suspiciously from these clapboard wankatoria before sighing with blissful contentment and going back to their treasure troves of homebrew and back issues of Razzle. Once seen as the Utopian fantasies of 70’s hippies and sitcom characters, self-sufficiency is looking pretty damned valid; not only does it make sound economic sense for people to grow their own food, but with recent figures* showing that it takes four barrels of crude and half a blue whale’s worth of oil to transfer an anaemic and pesticide-riddled cabbage from soil to plate, it’s an essential way to help preserve our dirtball’s dwindling stock of natural resources. One of those who definitely does know what he’s doing is 44-year old Steve Dales, a former City Planning officer. On his little (250sqm) patch of Heaven, he’s growing a startling variety of fruit and veg – even gourmet stuff like garlic and squash. Quite an eye-opener for a culinary philistine like myself who thought that such things actually only sprouted from plastic tubs on the shelves of Asda. Steve, however is unassuming about the whole thing….. Aside from the inventiveness, what really impresses about these people is that, in addition to shallots and broad beans (which I don’t like), a genuine sense of community (which I do like – in moderation) has grown up. Almost by accident, Steve and his friends have stumbled upon a co-operative; skills, know-how, and salvage are freely exchanged, and tasks are shared on a tacit quid pro quo basis. It’s frightfully heartening, if I’m honest – seeing the basic tenets of socialism being so unselfconsciously applied in a sort of “Unplanned Economy”.  Silverfox in his natural enviroment It’s certainly a far cry from those miserable damp hours spent squatting on a Gro-bag in my grandfather’s shed being bored shitless while some old bloke bitched about his neighbour’s shed overshadowing his pea-patch. The ramshackle sheds are being phased out, and many now store their equipment, relax, and cook in caravans (although the Council are obviously keen to crack down on such a dangerously harmless and pleasant practice), and it comes as no surprise that there are more and more people looking to get in on the trowel-wielding action. According to Steve, there are currently more than a thousand Hull citizens chafing on the Council’s waiting list, just aching to get their hands dirty with something a little more constructive than picking up dog-shit – and who can blame them? A plot costs around thirty quid a year, which seems like a pretty fair price to me, for food, exercise, and peace of mind (during my tour, I was almost freaked out by how quickly my customary cynicism and pessimism drained away). If I have one complaint to make – and I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t – it’s that I didn’t run into a “Permaculturess” who looked like a young Felicity Kendal. No matter; I might nip back there around harvest time and see if I can’t get my Good Life on. Silver Fox
CITY ANYMORE! “That was the best trip we’ve ever been on!” I bet you’ve been waiting for us to come out again (as usual) haven’t yer? Well there’s been a good reason for the delay (honest!) Apart from the fact that so many people keep us waiting for advertising artwork, articles, details, etc.. (and some also take ages to pay!)… we had to wait and see if we were still gonna be in the Premier league next season. We’re not… but who cares! We’re just ooking forward to the Championship now. “Siverware,we don’t care, follow Hull City everywhere!” The last issue of Tenfootcity came out at the beginning of April and was a satirical attack on the General Election. (Don’t trust any of ‘em!)This new issue of the magazine reflects the pride we have in our locality and has a general theme of highlighting local independent enterprise and even touches on “alternative lifestyles” within our city. However anyone chooses to live their life is fine by us (as long as they’re not really hurting anyone!) but what’s actually most important to us, at Tenfootcity, is that we encourage an autonomous and independent way of thinking, which is why we’ve continually espoused the “Love Local” attitude over the past 4 years since we first launched the mag. We also cover the rise to Premiership level of Art for the superb Hull Truck Theatre Company, as well as helping to advertise, market and promote loads of other diverse independent businesses of this city. Support as many of them as you can…. It all eventually benefits us all in the long run, if we try to keep things “in house” as it were. (And don’t forget to always ask for Tenfootcity discounts wherever you are – be cheeky, it works!) This magazine is run by a group of locally-based genuine Hull people. All writers, photographers, designers and illustrators are local (and all get paid for their input – but not much!) and it is printed by a local Hull family business. So, with the “Local” overkill out of the way… lets enjoy the Summer and the World Cup. Have a good look through the mag when it appears on the streets and it’ll get you well in tune with the area and at the same time it should also entertain/inform/anger and/or amuse you. (Please delete as appropriate.) Enjoy yourselves. Laters. Editorial team member.
P.S. Hull’s got Talent!
The Summer issue of Tenfootcity will be out on the streets of Hull at the end of June 2010.  Country Roads, Take me home Country Boy In The City- The Student Life After growing up around farm machinery and cattle (that’s cows to you city folk) I found the transition to student at Hull University strangely weird. I don’t mean weird in a oh-my-Lord-it’s-hideous way but to me it’s a culture shock, it makes me feel older than I actually am and fills me with a sensation of resentment to my fellow first year students. “But why is this?” I hear you cry “Surely you’re a first year just like them” well I am and I’m not. In the literal sense, sure, but in the cultural sense I’m far different than your average first year. I like to think I’d sit with some of the older readers, tutting about how things aren’t the same anymore with them thar stoodents boozing up the streets, falling in gutters and generally being a nuisance. Perhaps this is due to the fact that I never had this problem back where I’m from (the Country!) but I have taken my Land Rover on the odd swerve towards a gaggle of drunken students who thought it was fine to cross the road when I have a green light. (And yes you read that right, I have a Land Rover, I’m a proper country boy. I’ve also got a flatcap!) Again though I digress! From what I’ve seen of Hull (and I’ve seen a fair bit) I feel safe in a peculiar sort of way, that everything has its place and things just sort of happen in an odd equilibrium. Why I was just wandering down Spring Bank the other day looking here and there thinking “Wa-hey, a tavern!” turns out said tavern contains the man who’s given me the opportunity to do this article( but also serve food and drink at reasonable prices!) But I digress with my shameful plugging so I’ll move on. If you’re reading this and perhaps you’re an older person thinking “yeah he’s right, but at the same time students do bring Hull some money” then let me say to you, milk them bloody dry by all means; I’m pretty sure the infamous Sugar Mill and Pozition already do. (not to knock them mind, they’re alright places, just not my cup of tea) bring me my dim lit pub and pint of cider to sup while I chit-chat until the sun goes down and I’ll be happy as Larry…whoever Larry is. My point is Hull is appealing to different people, I like to think of myself as up to date with fashion and whatnot but this doesn’t make me gay. Much in the same way that not going out boozing 6 days a week makes me any less of a student; I take much more happiness in wandering the city centre looking at the buildings and wandering into ye-olde time shops There’s some heritage here and it’s damn proud of it! And ya know what? Good for Hull! Too many places are selling out to make way for new, just look at Leeds and the new office/apartment things that were being built (thank you credit crunch for stopping that) I like Hull the way it is and that’s the way I want it to stay. Bloody Northern and Bloody Grand! Luke Fenton Aka- The Country Boy.  Have You seen the TFC banner? Similar to this. Only not shit. Popular “street bible” Tenfoot City is in turmoil this week after news that it’s banner, simmilar to The one used at famous band night The Sesh has gone missing. First used at The Hull Comedy Awards last year and again at the recent Tenfoot City Christmas Party, has since dissapeared with Zest staff the last people to see it. “It gave a sense of gravitas to the procedings” commented Tenfooty City big cheese, Nick Taylos “I don’t mind saying that its dissaperence has really hit the team hard! I personally havn’t been able to leave the house for at least a month now and I know the rest of the team have suffered similar trauma, It’s difficult too focus without a banner to fly!” “It’s a sick world” quoted a clearly aggitated Andrew Whatmough “When not even your banner is safe you start to realise the level of sick degenerates that we’re dealing with here.”. The magazine is calling for anyone who has seen the banner to contact them with information. Silver Fox and King Rat are currently infiltrating Hulls criminal underbelly while Lee Cassanell is organising a spoken word poetry evening to bring attention to the plight of stolen banners around the world.
The internet has forever changed the way we listen to music, that’s for sure and no other site has done that more then youtube (okay, maybe myspace too!). With bands filming videos and posting them to fans almost instantly, cutting out the likes of the mostly redundant MTV. We’ll be showcasing the best of theses on tenfootcity.com but for now we thought we’d treat you too a classic video from Hull’s favourate sons (and daughters at times), The Beautiful South that finds the band hitting the road in true Scooby Doo Style to scratch up a few well earned pennies for a round at the Grafton! Oh, and points to Mr Heaton for fitting in a Dr Who reference!
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