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Eventbrite

My First Time: Massaoke

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It’s the epic, closing bars of Bohemian Rhapsody and the silver catsuit-clad guitarist is playing the final notes with his teeth. Packed to the rafters, the venue sways as the audience members, arm in arm, sing their hearts out in unison. The atmosphere nears euphoria, but that’s not Brian May up there, and this is certainly not Live Aid. We’re at Camden’s Electric Ballroom on a dreary December evening, witnessing a cover act that’s managed to draw the same level of crowd as the chart-topping acts that play this venue every other day of the week. Welcome to Massaoke. 

The concept was launched eight years ago when five musicians – who go by Bat, Rebel Rye, Mac Savage, McClean and El Neilio – formed a singalong covers act under the name Massaoke. “We’d all been in separate indie bands that had flirted with some kind of success,” says drummer Bat. “We did the first one of these in a pub in Russell Square the day that William and Kate got married. We gave out lyric sheets and just got people together to have a singsong.”

Karaoke increasingly takes up space in leather-boothed rooms in Soho or raucous upstairs rooms in east end pubs, while interest in cover bands also seems to be growing in London. Ten-piece brass band Old Dirty Brasstards regularly treats Londoners to renditions of classic Arctic Monkeys or Oasis albums, while the hugely popular Re:Imagine series brings orchestral versions of seminal albums to the Jazz Café and XOYO: think Dr Dre’s 2001, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill or Frank Ocean’s Channel Orange. Inspired by Swedish singalong TV show Allsang, Massaoke sits somewhere between the two.

Perhaps it’s no surprise that music fans are turning to smaller versions of big-name shows when standing tickets at the O2 Arena often cost upwards of £60; the Massaoke boys tear it up for a smidgeon of the entry fee, and you’ll still get to hear all your favourite songs. You also get to join in: each song is accompanied by lyrics projected on big screens around the room, karaoke-style.

Tonight, it’s a Christmas-themed show, and it’s sometimes hard to see the stage through all the bobbing Santa hats and reindeer antlers. The energetic band blasts through a medley of Christmas favourites – by Slade, Wham! and Wizzard – before bringing out a guest female soloist to belt out a Mariah Carey tribute. We stomp our way through The Proclaimers and growl out The Pogues, before Bat swaps his drum kit for a handheld snare and plays to a downbeat cover of Little Drummer Boy. Not one person in the room isn’t singing, whether they’re in couples, groups of friends or raucous work outings. It’s rare to see a club venue like Electric Ballroom filled with such an age-diverse range of people, and the unlikely coming together of so many different groups makes the room glow with Christmas spirit.

Massaoke might be a fairly new concept, but congregating to sing together is a natural form of human expression. “Throughout history people have always passed along and borrowed songs,” Bat says. “With Motown they all swapped songs and before that you had songs called standards that everyone knew. This is a returning to something that’s always happened. Getting together in social spaces and having a sing-song is entrenched in every country in the world.”

And despite its name, Massaoke is also popular with people who aren’t into singing karaoke. “Karaoke can be negative because people can find the spotlight difficult,” says Bat. “There’s no spotlight here and people who feel like they can’t sing get the opportunity to do it. There’s no one hogging the mic and it’s about all being together. And when people all sing along it sounds really good.”

The musicians behind Massaoke have just announced that they’ll be holding a singalong residency at Electric Ballroom from March 2020. They’ve also started holding matinees, bringing the phenomenon to an even wider range of ages, and regularly tour in Australia, the US and Europe. It’s plain to see that a mass singalong is, just as Bat says, common to all creeds.

But what does the band do if someone’s too cool to sing along? “We always break them by the end of the night,” Bat laughs. “There’s always a fella who’s been brought along by his partner and he’s stood there crossed arms. But by the end he’s usually the one that’s got his shirt off and waving it around his head from someone’s shoulders.”

Thankfully, no one’s too cool for the festive edition. We leave feeling like we’ve been at the world’s most raucous festive work do. The world seems a little rosier and a bit less disconnected. And that’s a feeling that shouldn’t just be for Christmas.

massaoke.com

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Eventbrite

My first time: learning to strut

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I’m staring at my own face in the mirror, and wondering if I’ve ever truly done it before. Taking in the curve of my eyebrows, the shape of my jaw; noticing my dimples and the pinprick scar on my nose. I’m struggling to remember the last time I contemplated my reflection without seeing it through a prism of self-judgement.

“I am beautiful,” Madam Storm cries, and I repeat it after her. “I am enough. I am a woman. I am here.”

I’d signed up to the STRUT masterclass expecting to learn how to walk in heels like a boss, but things just got real. Female confidence coach Madam Storm uses six-inch stilettos as a tool to get women not just strutting their stuff, but owning their space – physically and psychologically. In Vauxhall’s BASE dance studios, 30 of us – from our early 20s to middle age, and from all walks of life – are sizing up our fishnet stocking-clad, stilettoed selves in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. We’re starting to realise that really, really looking at yourself (in any context that doesn’t involve make-up brushes and spanx) is not an easy thing to do. But then again, neither is sultrily sauntering towards a group of strangers, running your fingers through your hair and over your waist in a manner you’d possibly not even attempt in your own bedroom.

STRUT is one of a growing number of London-based empowerment classes of this kind. Pineapple Dance Studios have their own popular strut class (Strutology) while, on a similar tack, Ruby Rare runs sex-positive workshops for grown-ups. Tantra Dating and partnered yoga are also gaining popularity. London’s getting sexier, and exploring the idea that owning your sensuality means more than giving your sex life a boost.

Not many people would be able to get me to publicly perform a sexy catwalk. But within the first five minutes of STRUT, it’s clear that Madam Storm has a special gift for creating a safe, empowering environment that glows with sisterhood. We stand in a circle and introduce ourselves, clapping reassuringly at each other’s backstories. One woman has just begun chemotherapy. Another is going through a bad break up. Others are there to celebrate a birthday. All are just as keen to support each other as Madam Storm is.

“In this class, we don’t say ‘yes’,” our teacher begins, dressed in a black leotard, over-the-knee velvet boots and a jaunty trilby. “We say ‘YAAASSSS, HONEY’.”

Over the next three hours, we learn six different ‘struts’ – styles of walking in heels that get progressively racier. Madam Storm eases us in with the ‘power strut’. “Every day when you walk out of the house, you’re on stage,” she tells us. “So put your phone away and own it. Core engaged, shoulders back, tits UP.”

We do just that, before learning variations: walking with our hands firmly planted on our waists, or swaying our hips for a sassier effect. It all comes with positive affirmations, led by Madam Storm, to a Beyoncé backing track. “I am powerful!” I shout as I stride towards my reflection, all hips, heels and hair flicks. “I am perfect.” I’m well aware of how hard I’d cringe saying these things in any other context – and increasingly aware of how that might be a problem.

We take a prosecco break halfway through, before things are taken up a notch. We repeat positive affirmations to our mirror reflections before trying out more seductive struts, which involve slowly running our hands over our necks, hips and thighs as we walk.

“The first thing you need to do to turn someone else on, is to turn yourself on,” says Madam Storm. “Don’t be afraid to touch yourself.” “I’m not!” shouts out one of the strutters, to much hilarity. Together, we explore our more sensual sides to soulful RnB, each woman’s strut met with enthusiastic whoops of applause.

But there’s one final challenge before we can kick off our stilettos (and we’re all starting to feel the burn). Madam Storm grabs a megaphone and, in pairs, we power strut outside to the Albert Embankment. A trio of drunk, older men leer at us from the next-door Wetherspoons, but there’s power in numbers and not one of us bats an eyelid. “What other people think of me is NONE OF MY BUSINESS!” we scream, in unison. Madam Storm holds the megaphone to my lips and I call out, “I am powerful,” into the grey, drizzly breeze. I’m finally starting to believe it. And I’m not the only one.

“Today has been really empowering,” says one strutter as we arrive back at the studio. “This is my third time going through breast cancer and looking at yourself in the mirror is really difficult. It’s not something you do when you have a cancer diagnosis.”

It’s a sentiment shared by others in the room. “I’ve had a lot of surgery and through that process I felt like I’d become disengaged with my femininity,” says another participant. “This is getting me back in touch with who I am.”

It takes courage to walk tall, especially in the face of life’s most earth-shattering curveballs. My afternoon at STRUT has left me in awe of the strength shown by these women. In their honour, I keep my heels on, and power strut to the Tube to begin my Saturday night. Shoulders back, core engaged, tits up. What other people think of me is none of my business.

Follow Madam Storm on Eventbrite here to be the first to know when more tickets go on sale.  

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The Wharf

Is it possible to live on just surplus food for a week?

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In the UK, over 100,000 tonnes of edible food goes to waste every year. That’s 250 million meals in the bin.

One Swedish startup is on a mission to not only save surplus grub, but offer a business-minded solution to restaurateurs, too.

Having launched in Stockholm and migrated to London in February, the Karma app allows Londoners to buy high-quality food at a 50 per cent discount from over 400 local restaurants and other independent food retailers.

Consumers use the app to search for or receive push notifications for surplus food throughout the day – cafes and restaurants generally sell food they haven’t shifted towards the end of their breakfast, lunch or dinner service – then reserve it, pay via the app and collect within a set time.

And according to Head of UK Grocery Steffie Clement, it’s not just consumers (and landfill sites) that benefit from the concept.

“The thing with Karma is that you’re targeting new customers,” she says. “People who haven’t yet come through the door. And you’re guaranteeing a sale from them. Plus, it’s not just a deals app, it’s specifically targeted at food that would otherwise be wasted. It’s environmental, but it’s profit driving, so you can bring in revenue.

“With all the big chain closures in the restaurant industry this year, margins are really tight, so something that’s revenue saving and also reaches out to new and different customers can work really well for food businesses.”

While independents have been the first to sign up to Karma, chains are increasingly looking for innovative, digital solutions to their food waste, too – so Canary Wharf is rich with potential business opportunities for the startup.

“There’s a 24-hour work culture here as well,” Steffie notes. “People might be working on international schedules, they might want to grab breakfast at 11, lunch at 3. And it’s incredible what the Canary Wharf Group is doing, around single use plastic and showing that they’re motivating businesses around here.

“If Karma could be one of the solutions they use to reach zero edible food waste, alongside their recycling and other things, that could be great.”

I agree – so I set myself the challenge of eating only surplus Karma food for one working week, to evaluate its offerings, and potential, on the estate.

Monday

I get brunch from 640East, a cafe in shipping containers on Montgomery Square: an avocado, mozzarella and tomato bagel. It’s half price at £2.25 and even though I enjoy it, I wouldn’t have bought it for £4.50.

I have the app open from 5pm, an hour before I finish work, keeping an eye out for a dinner to rescue but only one place has anything available – CPress, a health-foods and cold-press juice bar on Crossrail Walk. So at 6pm I buy what I can: two chia pots, some turmeric hummus, two side orders of roast vegetables and two G-Force ‘immune-boosting’ juice shots. It comes to £9.94 but isn’t enough for dinner for me and my partner.

I save my CPress items for tomorrow and we tuck into some lamb jalfrezi left over from the weekend.

My take: I’m concerned about the lack of options in Canary Wharf, as I failed to get through day one on just surplus food.

Steffie’s take: “There’s a lucky draw aspect – because it is genuine surplus food, what’s available can be unpredictable. That’s where we’re hoping to get more retailers on board – sometimes when it’s smaller and more niche food businesses, it can be about buying smaller ingredients to add to your meal, or to eat as a starter.”

Tuesday

I start the day with a G-force shot and a blueberry and granola chia pot. The ginger-infused juice is unpleasantly bitter, but the chia pot is crunchy, sweet and healthy-tasting.

For lunch I microwave the roast vegetable pots and plate them up with the hummus and some falafel that I had in the fridge. It’s a tasty, healthy lunch but the surplus food needed boosting with other things to make up a full meal.

I’m in Shoreditch that evening so I try out the app there – and am pleased to discover that the amount of restaurants signed up to the app skyrockets in comparison to Canary Wharf.

One catches my eye – Yuzu, a sushi restaurant in Spitalfields I’ve wanted to try for ages. I reserve three mixed boxes – spicy salmon and tuna, nigiri and yellowtail sashimi, and assorted maki – which come to £18.29, rather than £36.58 at full cost.

The waitress tells me that they fill boxes with whatever is left on the conveyor belt at the end of lunch, which seems like a no-brainer solution.

My take: A good use for the app is buying up lunches at the end of service to eat for lunch the following day – and it’s a great tool for discovering new restaurants. I would have paid full price for this meal, but getting it for such a steal feels great.

Steffie’s take: “Foodies use it to discover new places and cuisines, without the hefty London price tag. And they get to take proactive social action on an issue they feel passionate about – putting their money where their mouth is, showing that surplus food can be really good.”

Wednesday

For lunch, there are only two 640East bagels available, so I go for a bacon and avocado one.

By the end of the working day it’s slim pickings on the app. I’m about to give up hope on finding a Karma dinner in Canary Wharf when I get a push notification from Island Poke – result.

I get a salmon poke bowl crammed with rice, seaweed, fresh red chili, avocado chunks and raw salmon for £4.95 – a bargain for a big portion that would normally cost £8.85.

My take: If you’re a fussy eater you could run into some issues with this app. The poke bowl came with a pre-selection of toppings, rather than allowing me to choose my own. But if you’re keen to expand your food horizons, this is the way to do it.

Steffie’s take: “You can live in London for so many years and not discover all the food and different dishes that are available. What’s good about the app is that it’s really visual, it’ll usually have a really nice picture and you can favourite places that you like and follow them in the way you would on social media.”

Thursday

Throughout the day, only 640East bagels and CPress juices are available. I wait for the evening, when I reserve two butter chicken and kashmiri lamb curries from Indi-Go in Old Spitalfields Market – enough for dinner and lunch tomorrow, for myself and my partner.

Having never been to Indi-Go before it’s a bit of a pain to track down with some iffy Google Maps directions. But the butter chicken, stewed in tomato and coconut, is gorgeous.

My take: At £4.25 each it feels like we indulged in a takeaway, but without having spent outside of our budget and while feeling good about rescuing it.

Steffie’s take: “People are shopping more ethically and even caring more about waste solutions than price. So attracting ethically minded customers is important to businesses.”

Friday

I round off the week with pastries and cake from Taylor St Baristas – an Antipodean cafe with a branch in Harbour Exchange Square. As well as steaming some of London’s finest flat whites, it’s selling half-price Anzac biscuits, croissants, orange cake and Guiness chocolate cake on Karma. I get six items for £6.42.

The oaty Anzacs are the best I’ve found in the northern hemisphere, and the Guiness-steeped chocolate cake might be the best I’ve ever tasted.

My take: The app has led me to discover some delicious treats I might never have ordered otherwise.

Steffie’s take: “The value businesses get from Karma is the upsell. You might buy a reduced-price croissant via the app but then get a coffee at full price. Our research shows that customers brought in by Karma then return later down the line as full-paying customers.”

The verdict

By the end of the week, I’ve spent £61 and rescued 23 surplus food items – a total of 4.6kg.

I’ve discovered a couple of awesome restaurants and can smugly say I’ve done a little bit to reduce food waste this week. The app has been incredibly easy to use, and I have every intention to use it again.

But it’s clear that the majority of Canary Wharf’s restaurants haven’t jumped on the Karma bandwagon yet, which is a shame.

While the app is designed for saving surplus food, for users it operates a bit more like a cheap deliveroo (albeit one that doesn’t deliver) – rightly or wrongly, each time I click open the app, I’m hoping for the choice found on mainstream food ordering apps.

“Karma needs to grow in Canary Wharf, and it’s on us to let more businesses know,” says Steffie. “It hinges on a varied demand and a rich supply. But the businesses that have used Karma really love it.

“They’re prompted to act and take on these initiatives from customers, so if you see a cafe throwing away a load of pastries at the end of the day, ask them about their sustainability process, or if they’ve heard of Karma, or let us know and we can get in touch with them.”

Fancy more cheap and ethical takeaways on the Canary Wharf estate? You know what to do. karma.life

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The Wharf

The art of seduction (review)

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“Pet, get on your knees.”

A middle-aged man, dressed in nothing but a patent leather thong and collar, kneels and starts licking the dominatrix’s stilettos.

“See, I train my pets very well,” says Madam Storm, holding high in one hand the leash that’s attached to the man’s collar and a wooden cane in the other.

I’m at Learn The Art Of Seduction, the first seminar the dominatrix and female confidence coach has held with her partner Mr Marcus, at Hoxton Square Bar And Kitchen in Shoreditch – an event that showcases what she teaches in the one-to-one seduction classes she holds with women, along with her Strut workshops.

It’s been fairly raucous until this point. The night kicks off with smoky whisky cocktails and a BDSM-themed game of charades, with the audience of around 40 – nearly all female – shrieking clues to each other to describe spanking horses, latex gloves, nipple clamps and an electric shock crop.

Then the power couple struts in, Madam Storm head-to-toe in a dark glittery dress that shimmers like the night sky. Mr Marcus takes his seat next to an array of whips, ball gags and sensory deprivation masks decorated with handpainted flower patterns (he’s a designer and fetish wear artist).

The first third of the night is structured as a Q&A hosted by erotic writer Yve Nimi, who first asks the couple how they met – which instantly descends into the story of when they first had sex.

This sets the tone for the rest of the night. As Torture Garden regulars (the world’s largest fetish club, in London) and BDSM connoisseurs, Madam Storm and Mr Marcus respond openly and non-judgementally to audience questions about introducing kinks to the bedroom and their partners, how to “play” safely and what all the equipment is for.

The vibe switches between serious discussions about the importance of honest communication between men and women, and uproarious chats about the etiquette of sending dick pics.

Audience members are telling personal stories about their relationships, asking questions that would be outrageous in almost any other context, or whooping and clapping at the couple’s kinky stories, in turn.

We’re a few cocktails in and have just taken five to grab another from the bar, when we’re surprised with a seduction demonstration by Madam Storm and Mr Marcus.

She performs a sexy dance for him, dressed in a leather harness, before he pulls a sensory deprivation mask over her face and proceeds to spank her.

We’re all starting to get a bit hot under the collar when Mr Marcus calls time out, the music stops and we all laugh and applaud.

An audience member speaks of how “refreshing and beautiful” it is to see a black couple occupying the stage, and how she feels this is unusual in the kink and BDSM scene – which is also met with applause from the majority-black crowd.

Then it all gets a bit more interactive, as Mr Marcus takes a back seat and Madam Storm calls for her “pet” to join her on stage.

For the first time, the audience is quiet, studying the dominatrix’s body language and vocal instructions as she demonstrates the dom-sub dynamic.

Now it’s our turn. “Who wants to spank him?” she asks, and a few tentative hands go up.

Audience members try their hand with the cane and the flogger whip, while Madam Storm makes certain that they’re allowed to explore the technique in a safe space – no laughing is tolerated, only encouragement.

Madam Storm teaches one woman in the audience how to use her voice to instruct the “pet” – “Come here, pet. Stand up straight. Kneel down.” – and asks her, afterwards, how it made her feel.

“Liberated,” she says, smiling broadly.

We’re pretty sure the “pet” is enjoying himself, too, which is confirmed when Madam Storm gives him permission to speak about his fetish. He’s as enthusiastic as his mistress allows him to be.

After a quick crash course in candle wax dripping, the night draws to an end and we reluctantly cheer the couple off stage and tipsily make our way home.

I’m sure everyone in the room left with an opened mind, a feeling of freedom and the confidence to tell their kinky secrets to their partners when they got home.

That’s what Madam Storm’s art of seduction classes are all about – giving people the confidence to own, and explore, their sexuality.

And that’s a pretty powerful gift. teachmestorm.co.uk