‘I find it sad and difficult to listen to the Smiths': Ana Matronic's honest playlist
The first song I fell in love with
I was obsessed as a child with the Muppets and Sesame Street. My grandmother made me a puppet of the Count to help practise my counting. I loved The Pinball Number Count with the Pointer Sisters counting up 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 / 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 / 11/ 12 which is prophetic because I still consider the Pointer Sisters one of my all-time favourite bands.
The first record I bought
I was playing Delirious by Prince for my mother in 1982, and she said: 'He sounds like Little Richard.' I said: 'Who is Little Richard?' and she said: 'Get in the car, young lady,' and we went and bought a Little Richard greatest hits set. It was the start of a long conversation about music with my mom.
The song I do at karaoke
Psycho Killer by Talking Heads, Should I Stay Or Should I Go by the Clash, or – in the right mood – Pulp's Common People.
The song I inexplicably know every lyric to
You're speaking to someone who used to be a drag queen and is involved still in nightlife on Fire Island. I explicably know the words to lots of songs, especially if they are well known in the LGBTQ+ community. I've never owned Believe by Cher, but I can sing every word.
The best song to get the party started
I play so many kinds of parties: house music, disco, 80s, alternative. The one song they all agree is that Pull Up to the Bumper by Grace Jones is an absolute party starter.
The song I can no longer listen to
I find it sad and difficult to listen to the Smiths, but I still listen by pure virtue of Johnny Marr's guitar brilliance. How Soon Is Now was on such constant rotation when my father passed away, I'm sure my mom hates it now.
The song I secretly like
I don't believe in guilty pleasures. I think all pleasures should be enjoyed. I absolutely love – and can murder on karaoke – [US heavy metal band] Danzig. You'll often find me, late at night, headbanging.
The song that changed my life
I already loved Duran Duran and was a bit of a new romantic. But when my older sister brought home The Head on the Door by the Cure and I heard Inbetween Days, I went straight to the record store to talk to the guy behind the counter about my next purchase.
The song that gets me up in the morning
Straight Shooter by the Mamas and the Papas.
Sign up to Inside Saturday
The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend.
after newsletter promotion
The best song to have sex to
Side one of Led Zeppelin IV. Preferably in a van.
The song that makes me cry
My friend Amber Martin does an incredible show, where she recreates Bette Midler's Bathhouse performances from the 1970s and you have to check your clothes and wear a towel, so it's just like going to the Continental Baths in 1972. When she does I Shall Be Released by Bob Dylan, it always makes me cry.
The song I'd like played at my funeral
Lavender Coffin by Lionel Hampton. I could get a lavender coffin, that'd be great. I could just rent it. I don't have to be inside. Maybe the Count from Sesame Street could be inside, and come out and sing. That's what I want.
Ana Matronic's Good Time Sallies podcast is out now.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Daily Mail
24 minutes ago
- Daily Mail
The most stomach-churning photos from the infamous poop cruise stuck at sea for days on end
Carnival's 'poop cruise' that saw thousands of passengers stuck at sea for five days as sewage flooded the ship is set to be featured in a new Netflix series. Due to stream on June 24, episode three of 'Trainwreck' - the series that looks at several disasters, will focus solely on the trainwreck - or shipwreck - that was the voyage of the Carnival Triumph in February 2013. The ship was meant to embark on a four day sojourn out of New Orleans, Louisiana throughout the Gulf of Mexico. But, on day four, an electrical fire broke out and turned the entire trip on its head. The accident engulfed the ship's electrical cables in flames. Those cables powered the Triumph's entire electrical system including the power, refrigeration, propulsion, air conditioning and the power to flush the toilets. While at sea they were impossible to repair and the entire cruise ship had to be sustained by a singular generator. As a result, the boat powerlessly drifted in the Gulf of Mexico for four days, completely unable to accommodate its nearly 4,000 passengers with basic needs like food and operational toilets. To make matters worse, with just one day left on their trip, Carnival Captains found themselves unable to steer the ship at all thanks to the power outage. Passenger Tammy Garcia said at the time: 'It wasn't vacation anymore, it was like survival mode. Eat what you can. Snack when you can. It was awful.' The ship was meant to embark on a four day sojourn out of New Orleans, Louisiana throughout the Gulf of Mexico. But, on day four, an electrical fire broke out and turned the entire trip on its head. Pictured: passengers set up camp on the decks of the boat to avoid the foul smell of their cruise-mates' plumbing Since the cruise was spontaneously increased by four days, staff also quickly ran low on food. The lack of refrigeration made dining limited, passengers documented the slivers of ham on mustard-soaked stale bread that they were served to survive Carnival Triumph (pictured) powerlessly drifted in the Gulf of Mexico for four days, completely unable to accommodate it's nearly 4,000 passengers with basic needs like food and operational toilets Because of the fire, passengers operated completely in the dark and were forced to poop into red biohazard bags and pee in the showers. One passenger, Rian Tipton, told People at the time that some people snubbed the biohazard bags altogether and continued to use the out-of-order toilets. 'Toilets started to overflow and so were the trash cans! People were literally peeing and pooping in the trash cans. 'The worst that I've heard is people going into the public bathrooms and seeing feces on the wall,' she said. The sewage system became overwhelmed by the outage and even began leaking thousands of people's excrement into the floors and hallways. Passengers set up camp on the decks of the boat to avoid the foul smell of their cruise-mates' plumbing. Passenger Robin Chandler, who boarded the cruise to celebrate her birthday said: 'The stench was awful. A lot of people were crying and freaking out.' Since the cruise was spontaneously increased by four days, staff also quickly ran low on food. The lack of refrigeration made dining limited, passengers documented the slivers of ham on mustard-soaked stale bread, looking very similar to the legendary Fyre Festival cheese sandwich, that they were served to survive. One passenger said the food was one of the worst parts, but nothing could compare to the toilet situation. 'The worst thing was the toilets. Going in them little red bags and we just had to put them in the trash. It got to the stage when they said if you have to urinate go in the sink or the shower. 'I'm looking forward to getting to a flushing commode. The cold onion sandwiches were pretty bad too,' the passenger said. After days of ruined plans, rationed food and powerless nights, insanity started to creep in. Passengers made help signs, drew on robes and bedsheets to document the disaster. They had to rely on themselves for comfort and entertainment since the amenities they'd paid for were long gone. Help finally arrived on Valentine's day, February 14. Tug boats ushered the floundering ship for the Gulf to a nearby port in Mobile, Alabama, miles away from the cruise's original docking point. Because of the fire, passengers operated completely in the dark and forced to poop into red bio-hazard bags and pee in the showers 'I feel like I can survive anything now,' said passenger Kendall Jenkins after the horror story she endured on board. 'I just feel so blessed to be home.' Buses to take guests from Alabama the original port left early February 15. It took several hours to disembark the ship with only one elevator in operation. In a statement to Daily Mail this week, Carnival officials said: 'The Carnival Triumph incident over 12 years ago was a teachable moment for the entire cruise industry. 'A thorough investigation following the incident revealed a design vulnerability which was corrected and led Carnival Cruise Line to invest more than $500million across our entire fleet in comprehensive fire prevention and suppression, improved redundancy, and enhanced management systems, all in support of our commitment to robust safety standards. 'We are proud of the fact that since 2013 over 53 million guests have enjoyed safe and memorable vacations with us, and we will continue to operate to these high standards.' In the trailer for the episode, Netflix teases even more drama. Passengers and employees recount fights breaking out aboard the boat and dozens of people suing for mental distress.
The Guardian
34 minutes ago
- The Guardian
‘It's thieving': impersonators steal elderly people's TikToks to hawk mass-produced goods
In April of this year, Daisy Yelichek was scrolling TikTok when something unusual appeared in her feed: a video of her 84-year-old father, George Tsaftarides, who runs an account sharing sewing videos from his small tailoring business in Ohio. But the video Yelichek was seeing was not from Tsaftarides' actual page, which has nearly 41,000 followers – but instead originated from a profile of someone claiming to be a 'sad old man' whose cat sanctuary was at risk of shutting down. 'Please stay 8 seconds so I don't have to shut down my cat shelter I poured my love into,' the text on the video said, adding that the sanctuary would be selling slippers to raise additional funds. The bid for sympathy worked on many viewers, garnering millions of views and tens of thousands of users leaving concerned comments. 'Just ordered two! Sending love to these kittens,' wrote one. Another commenter said: 'thank you for all you do for these babies.' Others even asked if there was a GoFundMe link to donate directly to the cat shelter. Yelichek and her father were shocked. Tsaftarides does not run a shelter. The account posting the plea for funds appears to be a front for a scheme seeking to sell mass-produced slippers. Several of Tsaftarides' followers who actually ordered slippers complained that the fuzzy footwear came with 'made in China' tags and did not, in fact, appear to be handmade by an elderly man with a struggling cat sanctuary. 'These people are using my identity to make money and I don't understand why,' Tsaftarides said. 'It's thieving, it's stealing, and it's not right.' Tsaftarides is not the only TikTok user who has had his likeness hijacked by such accounts. Charles Ray, an 85-year-old retiree based in Michigan, has also been targeted by accounts using doctored videos of his likeness. He started his actual TikTok account in January and uses it to share jokes with his followers. 'Earlier this year, my pastor told me a joke about a frog, and I thought, 'that ought to make people smile,' so I figured out how to make an account and told the joke, and it took off from there,' he said. Ray's videos all follow a similar template: filmed in selfie mode, he tells a short joke. He was frustrated to learn his content, which he makes only to 'share joy' and not to earn money, was being lifted and edited to scam people. In one video, Ray is rubbing his eye, and the repost seems to imply he is crying. Another video uses a clip from a woman crying on TikTok about an unrelated issue, and another includes a user in a hospital bed. Since she first discovered the proliferation and manipulation of her father's face, Yelichek has identified more than 100 accounts splicing his videos with other, unrelated users to sell mass-produced goods including slippers, headphone cases and blankets – all under the guise of independent sellers that need help. Some two dozen Instagram accounts and YouTube as well as a handful were pulling the same trick, according to a list compiled by Yelichek and a review of the accounts by the Guardian. At one point, Yelichek even made contact with the account manipulating her father's likeness over direct message and pleaded with its owner to stop. The person behind the account claimed to be a poor 17-year-old boy based in Greece trying to make money for his family. 'I totally understand your situation but I also want you to understand mine,' he said, proceeding to post more stolen videos. The con replicates a recurring genre of video on TikTok that has boosted sales for some small businesses: user makes a heartfelt post about a local store or restaurant that is struggling, and online followers are moved to support it. One typical post mimicking a local plea for help reads: 'Please just stay 15 seconds to save my pawpaw's slipper small business.' In the case of videos Yelichek is seeing, many commenters who are moved by the fake story try to boost it by commenting names of celebrities and creating other engagement they believe TikTok prioritizes. 'Fun fact,' a comment on one video of the type reads, this one using the same formula but claiming to be a struggling cow sanctuary. 'Liking and replying to comments boosts more! Referencing popular things like Chappell Roan and Taylor Swift puts this video on the [for you page] of more people.' The video pulled in 1.4 million likes and 26,000 comments before being taken down. Yelichek says these accounts lift videos from other TikTok users as well and recontextualize them to create a false narrative. Tsaftarides said his content being used to sell mass-produced goods is particularly frustrating, as he started his account to promote small businesses, including his own, and to encourage people to shop locally. 'All we want to do is show people our store and teach them about sewing,' he said. 'We don't make money off of our TikTok account.' Yelichek said she and her father filed a police report to Jackson township police in Ohio, where their store is based, for identity theft and have made great efforts to get social networks to take the stolen content down – often to no avail. Yelichek said that while Instagram has removed a few of the profiles she reported, TikTok – the platform where the issue is more widespread – has been less responsive. Sign up to TechScape A weekly dive in to how technology is shaping our lives after newsletter promotion 'If we comment on [these videos] saying they're spam, our comments often get deleted right away, with TikTok saying it's against their community guidelines,' Yelichek said, sharing screenshots of the messages. 'They've actually put strikes on my dad's account for me commenting on these videos to say that they are spam and scamming people.' TikTok users who have gotten wise to the scheme have commented on videos calling out the scam. Like Yelichek, some comments say that TikTok responds to their reports of a video by saying it does not violate its community guidelines. TikTok said in a statement that its community guidelines do, in fact, prohibit impersonation accounts and content that violates others' intellectual property rights. Reports of copyright infringement concerns may require proof of ownership, including links to the original content and links to infringing content. Meta similarly stated its Instagram terms of use do not allow posting content that violates someone else's intellectual property rights, including copyright and trademarks, and that violations can be reported on Instagram's help page. Ray, the 85-year-old jokester, said he tried reporting the videos to TikTok but got responses that the content he had flagged did not violate TikTok's community standards. Like Yelichek, he said his comments on the videos alerting followers to the scam were frequently removed, and that he gets 'no help from TikTok' and does not know how to further communicate with the company. TikTok said in a statement that it continuously takes action against such copyright violations. It added that 94% of all content removed for violating community guidelines on fake engagement in the fourth quarter of last year was removed proactively rather than in response to reports. Meanwhile, some users are catching on to this particular kind of sadness bait – with recent videos going viral alerting people to the fact that the posts begging for help with failing cat shelters, cow farms and other heart-wrenching fictions are not real. Though awareness may spread, the impersonating videos remain available. In lieu of takedowns, Ray said he has decided to continue to make his videos because many of his 13,000 followers have told him they look forward to his posts each day. 'With everything that's going on nowadays, people need to smile,' he said. 'If my followers smile, even for a minute, they've forgotten their troubles for a minute. So that's all I try to do – to make people smile. This is not going to stop me.'
The Guardian
39 minutes ago
- The Guardian
‘People thought I was off my face': indie rockers Hard-Fi look back at adrenaline, addiction and a life of excess
Hard-Fi formed in 2003 in Staines, Surrey. Frontman Richard Archer, guitarist Ross Phillips, bassist Kai Stephens and drummer Steve Kemp released their debut album, Stars of CCTV, in 2005. Featuring Cash Machine, Hard to Beat and Living for the Weekend, it reached No 1 in the UK, sold 1.2m copies worldwide and earned Brit awards and a Mercury prize nomination. The band released two further albums before going on hiatus in 2014. They reunited in 2022 and released a new EP in 2024. This shoot was for an interview in the Big Issue. I still wear those clothes now, but back then a good jacket or pair of sunglasses was a suit of armour. With the right pair of shades, I could face the Terminator. The more extrovert elements of being a frontman didn't always come naturally, so at times I was playing a larger-than-life character. I wasn't that confident performing – not to the extent I'd puke up backstage, but I'd get nervous and try too hard. I was also a bit gobbier and swearier back then. A lot of people thought I was off my face on coke, which I wasn't. Adrenaline is powerful stuff. I often had this outsider feeling – as if there was a party going on we weren't invited to. We'd go out in Staines rather than Camden, but, even though we weren't part of the 'scene', our shows kept selling out. By 2006, it felt like we were on a train that was getting faster and faster. For years, we'd tour and do promo, with no days off – all of which was exciting but exhausting. The whole time I thought: 'We can't stop, we can't screw it up.' There was so much pressure that I didn't get a chance to stop and soak it in. After our third record, the label said: 'We're not going to make another album with you.' I wanted to keep the band going, but the energy wasn't there any more. Ross had his first child, money was getting tight and I realised we should move on. In the years since, I've been writing and producing for other artists. In 2020, I got in touch with the guys and suggested we do something. I was thinking, 'Will people actually turn up?', but we sold out the Kentish Town Forum in 10 minutes. And here we are! I had never worn a flat cap in my life. It was not my thing, so I felt self-conscious. But this was 2005 – I felt self-conscious permanently. I was almost certainly thinking: 'Right, a flat cap, is it? I'll just stand here and try to look tough.' Before Hard-Fi, I was on the dole. I'd go in and say: 'We've got meetings at a record label, the band might actually happen.' They'd reply: 'Sure. Have you thought about getting a job at HMV?' When we signed to Atlantic in December 2004, the dole office thought I was making it up. I was shocked, too – so much so that I wanted to hide my portion of the advance in a pillow case. That approach continued whenever the band had success. As soon as anything good happened, I couldn't celebrate. I just felt fear. Our debut album was recorded in a taxi office covered in cheap asbestos tiles that looked as if they'd been painted yellow, but it was nicotine. They'd turn to dust if you touched them, and there were rats living in the roof. It was grim, a really nasty place. All of which made the more glamorous parts of the band more surreal. James Blunt invited us to a party at his place once. I was introduced to Paris Hilton. She looked me up and down, twice, then turned and walked away. Being in Hard-Fi is half family, half military operation. Rich is the colonel. I am the sergeant – I crack the whip. Ross is a private – 'Yes, sir!' – and Kai is more likely to be awol. We are solid, but we can bicker about all sorts. I get wound up the easiest. I get the hump about anything. After the group went on hiatus, I wanted to use my brain, so I ended up retraining as a nutritionist. Do I help the band eat healthily now? Not remotely. Twenty years later, I am still the same guy. Although, these days I would have the confidence to say no to the flat cap. Those Versace shades definitely helped me get into character. When I joined the group, I realised I was probably not in the best place for what could be a really exciting opportunity. I wasn't getting enough sleep or living my best life, so I had to sharpen up and straighten out. I had a lot of respect for Richard, I had come across Steve at university, and I got on with Ross straight away – we were both just lads from Staines. Before Hard-Fi, I was doing pest control. We used my van for some of those early gigs, and, as I had tough guts, I wasn't bothered by much. Once someone dropped something down a toilet and I grabbed it out with my hand. When the taxi office had an ant infestation, I said: 'Why do you think they're here? It's not for the tunes. There's sugar everywhere.' When our first single made the Top 20, I couldn't believe it was happening. Looking back, I don't think I responded well. Artistically I stepped up to the plate, but personally I lost the plot. My impostor syndrome was huge, and I was dealing with it by becoming dependent on alcohol. There wasn't much talk about addiction back then. To some extent, it was encouraged by the industry. After we were dropped, we had a good break from each other for a fair few years. During that time, I went on a real journey – bad habits returning, and losing a loved one. But I also got the chance to become a good father. I feel positive about life now, but mixed about what's happening with the band. As much as it's exciting to live a bit of 2005 again, because of the crazy curve I've been on, there's apprehension there, too. We were considered 'urban' by the press, so most of our early shoots were done in car parks or bus shelters – anywhere that looked grimy. This one would have been a pleasant change. My outfit is standard Hard-Fi clobber – a black polo and army surplus. I felt comfortable in that – ready to go. I was only 21 when Hard-Fi took off, and the last one to join. I was nervous, but they were an easy bunch of fellas. I'm the youngest of three siblings, I go with the flow, and I applied that same mentality to being in Hard-Fi. It's almost impossible to wind me up. Only my kids can – they've got special skills. In 2005, we were out every night and away from home for months on end. It was great, but I found doing red carpets stressful. Even after four pints, I look like I'm thinking: 'Ahh. What the fuck.' When the third album came around, I started having kids and I thought it was time to get a job. Music stopped for me for a few years – my guitars were put in a cupboard to keep them away from the kids. As we started up the group again, I realised I had forgotten how much I loved playing. But it is a different dynamic this time around. Back then I was just making music. I had zero responsibilities. I knew absolutely nothing at all.
