Tuesday, January 31, 2006
The Fiery Furnaces - EP
My first Fiery Furnaces record, although (as these things go with 'buzz' artists) I've heard a handful of the songs on it before - "Single Again", "Here Comes The Summer", "Sing For Me". I think I read somewhere that this was actually a collection of various previously released stuff, including b-sides, which possibly explains why it's designated an ep despite clocking in at around 41 minutes. So, they're a duo, and they make quirky, whimsical pop, which naturally brings Mates of State to mind, but the Fiery Furnaces have a fuller sound than that other outfit, and also a more diverse instrumental palette (even if much of it is programmed/keyboarded). All told, it's quite good, but the quality of the songwriting is too uneven for the record to stand out for me (if all the songs were as good as the opening pair of "Single Again"/"Here Comes The Summer", well, this really would've been something).
Magnolia
The second time I've seen this film, and the first since I got into Aimee Mann (meaning that the first time I saw it must've been some time ago), that latter being the main reason for the rewatch (though if I'd twigged that this was a P.T. Anderson film - more recently of Punch-Drunk Love fame - I would've had another incentive). The previous time I watched it, I quite liked Magnolia, but I think that it wasn't too long after I'd seen Short Cuts and so was already a bit over the three hour long 'intersecting stories' thing...plus, that was in the time when I still sometimes watched films because I felt that I ought to rather than necessarily because I really wanted to, and I suspect that Magnolia may've fallen into the former category at the time.
Anyhow, it stands up well to a second watching. For a film of its length, it holds the attention impressively, no doubt aided by Anderson's technique of moving fairly rapidly from one story to another, keeping us interested in all of them. And there's a lot to it - framed by an overt focus on coincidence, fate and death, it covers a great deal else in between, dwelling particularly on the question of how the past always continues to reverberate in the present, and how its characters deal or fail to deal with this continuing facticity. It's the sort of film that would really lend itself to detailed excavation and exegesis, but while I liked Magnolia, I didn't respond strongly enough to want to go into it in that detail. Instead, a few scattered comments:
- Unquestionably, it packs a real emotional punch. Made me think about my own life, relationships, regrets (then made me think that I'm still far too young to be enjoying this kind of film, though possibly that's another story) and gave me chills at a couple of key moments (most notably Tom Cruise at his father's bedside and Julianne Moore fraying seemingly beyond repair at the drugstore).
- The music is important. One of the most moving scenes is that in which all of the major characters sing along to "Wise Up"; it's a beautiful, perfectly balanced song on its own, but in context in the film it carries even greater emotional freight.
- The ensemble cast is fantastic; nary a false note. Tom Cruise in particular v. good, in some measure because the character he plays is some kind of reflection of the all-American type with which he made his name (can't decide whether it's a distorted reflection or in fact the true figure that lies beneath the type).
- The jury's still out on the success of Anderson's 'cleverness' in pre-empting criticism of the somewhat coincidental/fabulistic nature of his narrative and film (eg, Philip Seymour Hoffmann telling the man on the telephone that they are in the moment in a film where the reconciliation between long-estranged father and son is effected, the motto in the piece of art and the young quiz kid avowing that 'these things do happen' in reference to the strange rain that falls at the end) but on balance I think I'm willing to give it to him.
- All in all, Magnolia really is rather good. I suspect that I'll return to it in years to come.
Anyhow, it stands up well to a second watching. For a film of its length, it holds the attention impressively, no doubt aided by Anderson's technique of moving fairly rapidly from one story to another, keeping us interested in all of them. And there's a lot to it - framed by an overt focus on coincidence, fate and death, it covers a great deal else in between, dwelling particularly on the question of how the past always continues to reverberate in the present, and how its characters deal or fail to deal with this continuing facticity. It's the sort of film that would really lend itself to detailed excavation and exegesis, but while I liked Magnolia, I didn't respond strongly enough to want to go into it in that detail. Instead, a few scattered comments:
- Unquestionably, it packs a real emotional punch. Made me think about my own life, relationships, regrets (then made me think that I'm still far too young to be enjoying this kind of film, though possibly that's another story) and gave me chills at a couple of key moments (most notably Tom Cruise at his father's bedside and Julianne Moore fraying seemingly beyond repair at the drugstore).
- The music is important. One of the most moving scenes is that in which all of the major characters sing along to "Wise Up"; it's a beautiful, perfectly balanced song on its own, but in context in the film it carries even greater emotional freight.
- The ensemble cast is fantastic; nary a false note. Tom Cruise in particular v. good, in some measure because the character he plays is some kind of reflection of the all-American type with which he made his name (can't decide whether it's a distorted reflection or in fact the true figure that lies beneath the type).
- The jury's still out on the success of Anderson's 'cleverness' in pre-empting criticism of the somewhat coincidental/fabulistic nature of his narrative and film (eg, Philip Seymour Hoffmann telling the man on the telephone that they are in the moment in a film where the reconciliation between long-estranged father and son is effected, the motto in the piece of art and the young quiz kid avowing that 'these things do happen' in reference to the strange rain that falls at the end) but on balance I think I'm willing to give it to him.
- All in all, Magnolia really is rather good. I suspect that I'll return to it in years to come.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Neko Case - Fox Confessor Brings The Flood
More excitement - the new Neko Case is out there! Got it today, and have had it on replay since while lying around and scrawling out a letter (my first handwritten letter in months) - a luxurious way to spend the afternoon, but in some ways a necessary one, too, for I definitely needed some alone time just about now. Anyway, that's by the by - regarding the album, the unsurprising news is that Fox Confessor Brings The Flood is smashingly good. I haven't got around to The Tigers Have Spoken yet, mostly because it's a live album (even though there's quite a lot of new material on it), but of course Blacklisted is, like, one of my favourite albums of all time (#20 according to that list I made a little while ago, and I'd probably bump it up a few spots were I to reorder the list today), so my expectations were high; colour me delighted that those expectations have basically been fully met by this new record.
Essentially, it's that same kind of haunted, evocative, nocturnal country-noir by way of classic torch chanteuses as well as traditional folk, with echoes of rootsy revivalists like Giant Sand and Calexico (members of whom again appear on the record) and modern alt-country, and all tied up by the glory that is Case's voice. But there is a bit of a progression from her last studio album apparent on Fox Confessor. For one, where Case's retro-styled cues were formerly taken mainly from the torch and soul side of things (most directly on Blacklisted, in covers of "Look For Me I'll Be Around" and "Runnin' Out Of Fools"), here there's a slight move towards the 60s 'pop' end of things (main evidence for this: "That Teenage Feeling" and "Lion's Jaws") - subtle, but it's there, not least in some of the upper register warbling. Also, I think that there's a bit more of an 'indie' streak running through the new album than on previous ones (obviously, y'know, in a Whiskeytown/The Execution of All Things/Laura Veirs/etc sort of way - not that her music sounds anything like either of those - rather than in a Sonic Youth or Pixies kinda fashion). Another change is that the music on this new album is a bit more multi-hued than on those of Case's previous records which I've listened to - there's more variety and a bit more playing around which is almost always effective and also helps to keep things interesting (again, it's only a relatively subtle change, but it's definitely there).
So far, my favourite song on Fox Confessor is "Hold On, Hold On", and I also particularly like "Margaret Vs Pauline", "Star Witness", "That Teenage Feeling" and "The Needle Has Landed", but I've hardly absorbed the album yet, so those picks are even more subject to change than usual. Plus, even outside of those songs, there are so many delicious moments when everything just comes together exactly right and picks you up before you've even realised what was happening ("John Saw That Number" is full of these unexpected pickups).
If you'll forgive a brief lapse into unbecoming juvenilia, dear reader: yay for Neko Case!
Essentially, it's that same kind of haunted, evocative, nocturnal country-noir by way of classic torch chanteuses as well as traditional folk, with echoes of rootsy revivalists like Giant Sand and Calexico (members of whom again appear on the record) and modern alt-country, and all tied up by the glory that is Case's voice. But there is a bit of a progression from her last studio album apparent on Fox Confessor. For one, where Case's retro-styled cues were formerly taken mainly from the torch and soul side of things (most directly on Blacklisted, in covers of "Look For Me I'll Be Around" and "Runnin' Out Of Fools"), here there's a slight move towards the 60s 'pop' end of things (main evidence for this: "That Teenage Feeling" and "Lion's Jaws") - subtle, but it's there, not least in some of the upper register warbling. Also, I think that there's a bit more of an 'indie' streak running through the new album than on previous ones (obviously, y'know, in a Whiskeytown/The Execution of All Things/Laura Veirs/etc sort of way - not that her music sounds anything like either of those - rather than in a Sonic Youth or Pixies kinda fashion). Another change is that the music on this new album is a bit more multi-hued than on those of Case's previous records which I've listened to - there's more variety and a bit more playing around which is almost always effective and also helps to keep things interesting (again, it's only a relatively subtle change, but it's definitely there).
So far, my favourite song on Fox Confessor is "Hold On, Hold On", and I also particularly like "Margaret Vs Pauline", "Star Witness", "That Teenage Feeling" and "The Needle Has Landed", but I've hardly absorbed the album yet, so those picks are even more subject to change than usual. Plus, even outside of those songs, there are so many delicious moments when everything just comes together exactly right and picks you up before you've even realised what was happening ("John Saw That Number" is full of these unexpected pickups).
If you'll forgive a brief lapse into unbecoming juvenilia, dear reader: yay for Neko Case!
Grosse Pointe Blank
Maybe the most impressive thing about Grosse Pointe Blank is that it's almost as hip as it thinks it is: quirky, subversive, sporadically funny, vaguely intellectual (for me, the biggest laugh of the film came with Dan Aykroyd's character's declaration "workers of the world unite!"), wired into pop culture (dig the 80s soundtrack), suitably 'meta' (note the Pulp Fiction cardboard cutouts...and then wonder about the inane dialogue of the two dorky government assassin-wannabe types, one black, one white), with a good ear for dialogue and a dab hand with satire (the scenes in which Martin Blank does small talk are so excruciating because they're only a small step - and sometimes not even a small step - away from how these things actually do go), and basically warm-hearted and feel-good.
As to the acting, John Cusack provides a good centre and Minnie Driver, as the other part of the 'romantic comedy' element of the pic, fits well with him, and both have nice characters to play with; also, the supporting roles are well filled (Joan Cusack is a particular delight, especially in her final scene). Alack, however, all told the film is just slightly off-key - the pacing's a bit weird, and the up-and-downness, while most likely intended, prevents the whole from cohering into anything in particular. The touch with which it was conceived and made isn't as deft as it might have been, with the result that while we can sometimes tell what the film is trying to do, at the same time we become aware that it has fallen short in that attempt (eg, with the violence, and more generally with the sense that it's striving for 'black comedy with a heart' and only getting halfway there). Still, not a bad little number, and if it's a bit of a mess, well, it's still a worthy attempt with some neat elements.
As to the acting, John Cusack provides a good centre and Minnie Driver, as the other part of the 'romantic comedy' element of the pic, fits well with him, and both have nice characters to play with; also, the supporting roles are well filled (Joan Cusack is a particular delight, especially in her final scene). Alack, however, all told the film is just slightly off-key - the pacing's a bit weird, and the up-and-downness, while most likely intended, prevents the whole from cohering into anything in particular. The touch with which it was conceived and made isn't as deft as it might have been, with the result that while we can sometimes tell what the film is trying to do, at the same time we become aware that it has fallen short in that attempt (eg, with the violence, and more generally with the sense that it's striving for 'black comedy with a heart' and only getting halfway there). Still, not a bad little number, and if it's a bit of a mess, well, it's still a worthy attempt with some neat elements.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Team America: World Police
Watched this at Sid's place last night, but I think that Rob was the driving force behind its choice (having only decided to join them and the others somewhat after the last minute, I didn't have any say). In a nutshell, it's a satire targeting the state of the world today, with a particular focus on American foreign policy and terrorism and, in the process, a take on the jingoistic tendencies of mainstream Hollywood action blockbusters; also, it's all animated by puppets (strings visible), and done by the people behind South Park, Trey Parker and Matt Stone.
Team America starts quite promisingly, lampooning both aforementioned action film conventions/clichés and the nationalistic 'world police' attitude (in Australia, 'deputy sheriff', anyone?) often identified with the US (government) which mirror and are mirrored in such films; and if the humour is tasteless and the satire rather blunt, these faults are partially compensated for by the actual laughs that are sometimes induced.
About midway through, though, the pious left also starts coming in for a serious bashing, with 'social campaigning' actors and Michael Moore getting it in the neck. Now, there's nothing wrong with that in itself - satire, while often outright polemical, can also be unsparing of both 'sides' of a supposed opposition, especially where there's cant and posturing on each end. But the problem here is that ultimately Team America is sunk by a failure of both imagination and vision - its perspective is wholly negative and so finally unsatisfying. If it were funnier, this wouldn't have mattered so much; conversely, if its satire were sharper or more well-targeted, the puerile humour would have been much more overlookable, or could even have come to function as an integral element of the critique. But as it stands, while a part of me admires the attitude behind it, I thought that Team America was too much of a mess to be worth the watching.
Team America starts quite promisingly, lampooning both aforementioned action film conventions/clichés and the nationalistic 'world police' attitude (in Australia, 'deputy sheriff', anyone?) often identified with the US (government) which mirror and are mirrored in such films; and if the humour is tasteless and the satire rather blunt, these faults are partially compensated for by the actual laughs that are sometimes induced.
About midway through, though, the pious left also starts coming in for a serious bashing, with 'social campaigning' actors and Michael Moore getting it in the neck. Now, there's nothing wrong with that in itself - satire, while often outright polemical, can also be unsparing of both 'sides' of a supposed opposition, especially where there's cant and posturing on each end. But the problem here is that ultimately Team America is sunk by a failure of both imagination and vision - its perspective is wholly negative and so finally unsatisfying. If it were funnier, this wouldn't have mattered so much; conversely, if its satire were sharper or more well-targeted, the puerile humour would have been much more overlookable, or could even have come to function as an integral element of the critique. But as it stands, while a part of me admires the attitude behind it, I thought that Team America was too much of a mess to be worth the watching.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
The Shins - Chutes Too Narrow
You can't throw a rock these days without hitting a Shins fan (for 'these days', possibly read 'post-Garden State', though they mayn't have been entirely thin on the ground even before that film...which I still haven't seen), and to be honest, that universal likedness has always discouraged me from digging into the band's discography (and, sometimes, to slur the band by calling them 'the new Coldplay', not because they're necessarily bad, but just because their appeal is so terribly...mass). Of course, that hasn't prevented me from hearing a solid 50% of Chutes Too Narrow, including the album's first four tracks - "Kissing The Lipless", "Mine's Not A High Horse", "So Says I" and "Young Pilgrims" - which are, if I'm truthful, all pretty darn good.
In the past, I've called the Shins a modern combination of Big Star and Simon and Garfunkel; having listened to the album, I'd stand by that, but would probably add Love and also ramp up the '90s indie-rock' quotient of the mix. In fact, the album is rather diverse, but for whatever reason, the impression it leaves on me is quite muted - it's all rather nice, and pretty good for what it is, and sufficiently interesting and its own thing not to offend me by being too vanilla or derivative, but somehow this just isn't the kind of stuff to change my life, at least not nowadays.
In the past, I've called the Shins a modern combination of Big Star and Simon and Garfunkel; having listened to the album, I'd stand by that, but would probably add Love and also ramp up the '90s indie-rock' quotient of the mix. In fact, the album is rather diverse, but for whatever reason, the impression it leaves on me is quite muted - it's all rather nice, and pretty good for what it is, and sufficiently interesting and its own thing not to offend me by being too vanilla or derivative, but somehow this just isn't the kind of stuff to change my life, at least not nowadays.
"And when you believe they call it rock and roll": Spoon - Gimme Fiction
If I were to condense my response to this album to one word, it would probably be 'yessss'; pressed to expand, I might say something which possibly sounded sarcastic but was actually sincere, like 'Spoon are such a good band!'...such is the nature of Spoon, and of Gimme Fiction. I mean, really, how much more is there to say? Spoon are a cool rock band, and Gimme Fiction is a cool rock album; it's interesting and engaging, and also makes me feel good. "I Turn My Camera On", in which the band really gets its strut on, is my favourite; also especially liking "Sister Jack" (Gimme Fiction's "Jonathon Fisk"), "The Beast And Dragon, Adored", and "The Two Sides Of Monsieur Valentin". Probably marginally prefer Kill The Moonlight, which is a bit more skeletal and edgy and probably more tuneful (in that Spoon kinda way) into the bargain, but then again, that old theory about us nearly always most liking the first album we hear by a band still largely seems to hold true...
Banana Yoshimoto - Lizard
So I've been thinking a bit lately about this idea of 'feminine writing' and the possibility of a 'feminine sensibility', particularly (in re that latter) when it comes to reading literature; Lizard, a collection of thematically linked short stories (in Yoshimoto's terms in her afterword, they're about "time, healing, karma, and fate"), strikes me as very much 'feminine' writing (even in the stories - three of six - which are written from the perspective of a male character). I can't put my finger on the reasons for this feeling, but somehow it's just there - it may be that I simply associate Yoshimoto with women, not only because she's female herself, but because both the person who first mentioned her name to me, and the person who lent me the book (unprovoked!), are women, but I think that those considerations are more likely effects of the writing being 'intrinsically' feminine than causes of my perceiving the writing as such (though who can ever tell?).
Anyhow, if true, that might go some way to explaining my somewhat conflicting (is 'conflictual' a word?) responses to these stories. In general, I like them - I like the airiness-coupled-with-weight, the whimsy, the sensitivity, the way its protagonists are moving towards coming to terms with themselves, their pasts, and the worlds around them...and there's a nice balance and progression within the six stories without anything so simple as a teleology; compare this:
to this, from later:
But I don't like them wholeheartedly, and nor do they particularly speak to me, and passages like the above are in some measure responsible for that. I can't entirely figure out where this negative reaction comes from - but I think that a large part of it is that the stories often strike me as a little bit simplistic, almost to the point of being trite (they're told in the first person, which always makes things tricky, but the problem is exacerbated by the narrators' habit of addressing themselves/the reader directly and really spelling things out (although the things being spelt out tend to be 'new', rather than simply summations of what has gone before)). So while I reckon she's pretty good at what she does, and really quite like Lizard, I'm not yet convinced that Yoshimoto is anything special - or, at least, not for me...which brings us back, dear reader, to this idea of 'feminine' writing and sensibility (at risk of seeming to be conflating the 'simplistic' accusation with the 'feminine' thing, which isn't quite what I'm trying to get at).
Anyhow, if true, that might go some way to explaining my somewhat conflicting (is 'conflictual' a word?) responses to these stories. In general, I like them - I like the airiness-coupled-with-weight, the whimsy, the sensitivity, the way its protagonists are moving towards coming to terms with themselves, their pasts, and the worlds around them...and there's a nice balance and progression within the six stories without anything so simple as a teleology; compare this:
Your love is different from mine. What I mean is, when you close your eyes, for that moment, the center of the universe comes to reside within you. And you become a small figure within that vastness, which spreads without limit behind you, and continues to expand at tremendous speed, to engulf all of my past, even before I was born, and every word I've ever written, and each view I've seen, and all the constellations, and the darkness of outer space that surrounds the small blue ball that is earth. Then, when you open your eyes, all that disappears.
to this, from later:
At that moment, I was truly without words. I realized that the world didn't exist by virtue of my mind. On the contrary, he and I and everyone else were swept up in a great whirlpool, swirling around constantly and not knowing where we're bound. Our sensations of pleasure and suffering, our thoughts, none of these things can stop the motion. For the first time, I was able to step away from my imagined position in the center of the universe and see myself as part of something larger. This was my revelation and I now felt--what? Not particularly happy or sad, but just a bit precarious, as if I'd relaxed some muscle that I hadn't needed to use all along.
But I don't like them wholeheartedly, and nor do they particularly speak to me, and passages like the above are in some measure responsible for that. I can't entirely figure out where this negative reaction comes from - but I think that a large part of it is that the stories often strike me as a little bit simplistic, almost to the point of being trite (they're told in the first person, which always makes things tricky, but the problem is exacerbated by the narrators' habit of addressing themselves/the reader directly and really spelling things out (although the things being spelt out tend to be 'new', rather than simply summations of what has gone before)). So while I reckon she's pretty good at what she does, and really quite like Lizard, I'm not yet convinced that Yoshimoto is anything special - or, at least, not for me...which brings us back, dear reader, to this idea of 'feminine' writing and sensibility (at risk of seeming to be conflating the 'simplistic' accusation with the 'feminine' thing, which isn't quite what I'm trying to get at).
Terry Pratchett - Thud!
For a while there, it looked as if I was going to finish reading this entirely in bookstores (mostly the Carlton Borders, though also a bit in Reader's Feast) - I'd made it up to page 150, reading at intervals over the last 6 months or so, before happening on a copy during a flying visit to the local library a few days ago. Anyway, having now been able to read the whole thing in more congenial - ie, less distracting and disconnected - circumstances, I can report that Thud! is another solid entry in the Discworld series...but then again, they all are, aren't they (especially these days)? It's an Ankh-Morpork one, and in particular a Vimes one; the major theme is racial intolerance (as played out amongst the different species of the Disc). Maybe not quite as full as some of the more recent books in the series, but still plenty satisfying, particularly, I think, for existing fans, not only because of the ongoing character development (incremental but discernible) and revisitings, but also for its picking up on general recurring figures from the series (most notably, Koom Valley).
Friday, January 27, 2006
Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow
Ha! I was so sure that this film would be good; no one believed me, but I was right.
Why was I so confident? Well, the synopsis, to start with: New York City attacked by giant robots, can only be saved by fighter ace Jude Law and tenacious girl reporter Gwyneth Paltrow (plus Angelina Jolie, in eyepatch). Throw in retro-futuristic costumes and sets, and what must surely be a tongue-in-cheek approach (witness the title and the poses on the promo poster), and how could it go wrong?
So, as I was saying, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow was pretty much exactly as one would imagine based on that description: a boy's own pulp adventure with explosions and derring-do a-plenty plus an endearing sense of innocence and fun; doesn't take itself too seriously but looks spectacular...the comic booky/old fashioned 1930s cinematic set design is brill, and the soft focus and haloing effects that often happen around Paltrow are a nice touch, as is the regimental militarism of the many squadrons (plus, let's not forget all those different types of giant robots). Also, all of the characters - including Giovanni Ribisi, as the Captain's sidekick, who I notice and like every time I see him in something - are perfectly cast, able to walk the delicate line which the film demands of them (balancing hommage, gentle self-mockery, and something approaching a straight face in playing their exaggeratedly archetypal roles).
So yes, I think that a lot of people didn't really get it, but this is a good one.
Why was I so confident? Well, the synopsis, to start with: New York City attacked by giant robots, can only be saved by fighter ace Jude Law and tenacious girl reporter Gwyneth Paltrow (plus Angelina Jolie, in eyepatch). Throw in retro-futuristic costumes and sets, and what must surely be a tongue-in-cheek approach (witness the title and the poses on the promo poster), and how could it go wrong?
So, as I was saying, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow was pretty much exactly as one would imagine based on that description: a boy's own pulp adventure with explosions and derring-do a-plenty plus an endearing sense of innocence and fun; doesn't take itself too seriously but looks spectacular...the comic booky/old fashioned 1930s cinematic set design is brill, and the soft focus and haloing effects that often happen around Paltrow are a nice touch, as is the regimental militarism of the many squadrons (plus, let's not forget all those different types of giant robots). Also, all of the characters - including Giovanni Ribisi, as the Captain's sidekick, who I notice and like every time I see him in something - are perfectly cast, able to walk the delicate line which the film demands of them (balancing hommage, gentle self-mockery, and something approaching a straight face in playing their exaggeratedly archetypal roles).
So yes, I think that a lot of people didn't really get it, but this is a good one.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Cat Power - The Greatest
It's been a while since I so keenly anticipated the release of an album as this one - the last album that I can remember going out and buying on the day of its release was Hail To The Thief, which must've been at least a couple of years ago now (those were the days - when I really believed that Radiohead were the best band in the world, and at least half believed that they might save me). It's not just that it was new Cat Power - though of course that was the main factor - but also that the title track and lead single, released quite a while ago, was absolutely stunning...three and a half minutes of magic which not only bore comparison to any of her finest past (sad-eyed) moments but also seemed to flag an interesting new direction for our favourite indie folk-styled eccentric (an appellation which means something, considering how many of them there are).
But the album as a whole...well, I've been thinking about how to explain my equivocal response to it, so how's this: by coincidence, on the day that the album was released, I received a postcard from Michelle (in Canada) telling me about a Cat Power moment that she'd had in a cafe somewhere in Quebec; and I think that the main reason I feel slightly let down by The Greatest is that, title track and maybe two or three others aside, it's hard to imagine the record producing any similar such moments, for me or for others (though the music of the enigmatic Chan always seems to speak so directly and personally to its listeners that it's probably particularly dangerous to be making these kinds of generalisations here).
In one respect, at least, "The Greatest" isn't at all misleading - this album certainly has a different sound from her previous albums. Much has been made of the fact that it was recorded in Memphis (in fact, What Would The Community Think was also laid down there, though not at Ardent nor with this kind of supporting cast of session musicians), and it does have a 'Memphis' kind of style - a full, lush, distinctly produced instrumental sound which is a far cry from the sparse, stark beauty of earlier classics like "King Rides By" or "Bathysphere", say. The guitar - both acoustic and electric, plus pedal steel on a couple of songs - is very much in a supporting role, and in its place we get a bed of piano, gentle percussion and bass, strings, organ, horns, sax, and other assorted, really quite AM radio-friendly sounds...not at all what we're used to from Marshall. What this means, all told, is that we don't get any of those soaring, heartbroken "Moonshiner"-type hymns which usually provide such emotional high points on Cat Power records; nor are there any of the marvellously propulsive, weirdly oscillating "Nude As The News"/"Cross Bones Style"/"He War" numbers, at least in the form that we're accustomed to. So that's the 'slightly let down' part of my response to The Greatest.
But, all of that said, I do like the album, and if I've been listening to it over and over (and I have been), it's not only for the pleasure of hearing Marshall sing songs that I haven't already heard umpteen times before. There are a few songs that could produce those 'moments' - "Where Is My Love" (though that one's maybe a bit too AM radio for my tastes), "The Moon" (one of my favourites), "After It All", and of course "The Greatest" itself. And there are some others which are, well, interesting to say the least - like "Lived In Bars", which comes on all 'latter day Nick Cave in quasi-ballad mood', even down to the lyrics ("We know your house so very well/And we will wake you once we've walked up/All your stairs"), and then shifts into a cousin to that "Stay" song from Dirty Dancing (incongruous enough already? Now imagine it sung in Marshall's usual throaty yowl...), or the positively sprightly "Could We" (maybe the most conventionally swingin' song in her entire back catalogue, not that it has a lot of competition - has a kind of Loaded-era Velvets swagger to it), and there's also "Hate", standing out on The Greatest precisely because it's such an old-school haunted 'voice + guitar' Cat Power song ("Do you believe she said that/Do you believe she said that/I said I hate myself and I want to die"). Plus, the song which closes the album proper - ie, before the 'hidden' track - "Love & Communication", is a bit of a stunner.
The folk strands are largely left behind, but there's a bit of country, a bit of understated funk, and more than a hint of soft-edged radio soul, all of which basically works (as perhaps might've been guessed from the way Marshall's voice surprisingly complemented the bouncy r&b of Handsome Boy Modeling School's "I've Been Thinking") but still leaves me wishing for an "American Flag" or a "Colors And The Kids", or, y'know, a "You May Know Him" or "Sea Of Love" or "Good Woman" or anything in those veins...
Which is this album in a nutshell, really. I can't help but feel a little disappointed with The Greatest, but on its own terms it's really quite a good (though by no means great...pun unintended) record. On the other hand, while I'm tempted to murmur something about this being how it goes when our icons change - and I do think that there's a little bit of that going on in my response to the album - I reckon that mostly The Greatest just doesn't quite come together in the way that we all hoped it would...this time, in changing, Marshall's fallen just a small bit short.
But the album as a whole...well, I've been thinking about how to explain my equivocal response to it, so how's this: by coincidence, on the day that the album was released, I received a postcard from Michelle (in Canada) telling me about a Cat Power moment that she'd had in a cafe somewhere in Quebec; and I think that the main reason I feel slightly let down by The Greatest is that, title track and maybe two or three others aside, it's hard to imagine the record producing any similar such moments, for me or for others (though the music of the enigmatic Chan always seems to speak so directly and personally to its listeners that it's probably particularly dangerous to be making these kinds of generalisations here).
In one respect, at least, "The Greatest" isn't at all misleading - this album certainly has a different sound from her previous albums. Much has been made of the fact that it was recorded in Memphis (in fact, What Would The Community Think was also laid down there, though not at Ardent nor with this kind of supporting cast of session musicians), and it does have a 'Memphis' kind of style - a full, lush, distinctly produced instrumental sound which is a far cry from the sparse, stark beauty of earlier classics like "King Rides By" or "Bathysphere", say. The guitar - both acoustic and electric, plus pedal steel on a couple of songs - is very much in a supporting role, and in its place we get a bed of piano, gentle percussion and bass, strings, organ, horns, sax, and other assorted, really quite AM radio-friendly sounds...not at all what we're used to from Marshall. What this means, all told, is that we don't get any of those soaring, heartbroken "Moonshiner"-type hymns which usually provide such emotional high points on Cat Power records; nor are there any of the marvellously propulsive, weirdly oscillating "Nude As The News"/"Cross Bones Style"/"He War" numbers, at least in the form that we're accustomed to. So that's the 'slightly let down' part of my response to The Greatest.
But, all of that said, I do like the album, and if I've been listening to it over and over (and I have been), it's not only for the pleasure of hearing Marshall sing songs that I haven't already heard umpteen times before. There are a few songs that could produce those 'moments' - "Where Is My Love" (though that one's maybe a bit too AM radio for my tastes), "The Moon" (one of my favourites), "After It All", and of course "The Greatest" itself. And there are some others which are, well, interesting to say the least - like "Lived In Bars", which comes on all 'latter day Nick Cave in quasi-ballad mood', even down to the lyrics ("We know your house so very well/And we will wake you once we've walked up/All your stairs"), and then shifts into a cousin to that "Stay" song from Dirty Dancing (incongruous enough already? Now imagine it sung in Marshall's usual throaty yowl...), or the positively sprightly "Could We" (maybe the most conventionally swingin' song in her entire back catalogue, not that it has a lot of competition - has a kind of Loaded-era Velvets swagger to it), and there's also "Hate", standing out on The Greatest precisely because it's such an old-school haunted 'voice + guitar' Cat Power song ("Do you believe she said that/Do you believe she said that/I said I hate myself and I want to die"). Plus, the song which closes the album proper - ie, before the 'hidden' track - "Love & Communication", is a bit of a stunner.
The folk strands are largely left behind, but there's a bit of country, a bit of understated funk, and more than a hint of soft-edged radio soul, all of which basically works (as perhaps might've been guessed from the way Marshall's voice surprisingly complemented the bouncy r&b of Handsome Boy Modeling School's "I've Been Thinking") but still leaves me wishing for an "American Flag" or a "Colors And The Kids", or, y'know, a "You May Know Him" or "Sea Of Love" or "Good Woman" or anything in those veins...
Which is this album in a nutshell, really. I can't help but feel a little disappointed with The Greatest, but on its own terms it's really quite a good (though by no means great...pun unintended) record. On the other hand, while I'm tempted to murmur something about this being how it goes when our icons change - and I do think that there's a little bit of that going on in my response to the album - I reckon that mostly The Greatest just doesn't quite come together in the way that we all hoped it would...this time, in changing, Marshall's fallen just a small bit short.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Some webcomics that I've been enjoying
It having quite literally been too hot for words over the past few days, that part of my existence which hasn't involved periodically braving the heat to go out and interact with human beings has mainly revolved around watching sport on tv and reading webcomics (no, I'm not particularly proud of this, nor noticeably ashamed...well, maybe just a little bit of the latter). Anyway, some other webcomics that I've been enjoying:
"Dinosaur Comics", written and drawn by one Ryan North. In which dinosaurs talking about philosophy and social trends, making lame jokes, wisecracking and attempting to one-up each other, mucking around with time travel, indulging in whimsical flights of fantasy, carrying out stupid plans, being endlessly self-absorbed, and so on (nearly always with precisely the same pictorial series), are funny.
"Sinfest", written and drawn by one Tatsuya Ishida. In which there's too much going on to really summarise - but suffice to say that it's hella cynical and hella cool.
"Cat and Girl", written and drawn by one Dorothy Gambrell. In which girl, a hipster who, like all true hipsters, always complains about hipsters, hangs out with cat, who is delightfully gormless and not cute at all, and other hipster-type sorts; many references to, eg, Thomas Pynchon, Dorothy Parker, Talulah Gosh, the Shangri-Las, and other touchstones; long self-reflexive frequently self-undermining anti-capitalist diatribes; much joy ensues on my part.
The other ones that I particularly like are Questionable Content and Scary Go Round.
"Dinosaur Comics", written and drawn by one Ryan North. In which dinosaurs talking about philosophy and social trends, making lame jokes, wisecracking and attempting to one-up each other, mucking around with time travel, indulging in whimsical flights of fantasy, carrying out stupid plans, being endlessly self-absorbed, and so on (nearly always with precisely the same pictorial series), are funny.
"Sinfest", written and drawn by one Tatsuya Ishida. In which there's too much going on to really summarise - but suffice to say that it's hella cynical and hella cool.
"Cat and Girl", written and drawn by one Dorothy Gambrell. In which girl, a hipster who, like all true hipsters, always complains about hipsters, hangs out with cat, who is delightfully gormless and not cute at all, and other hipster-type sorts; many references to, eg, Thomas Pynchon, Dorothy Parker, Talulah Gosh, the Shangri-Las, and other touchstones; long self-reflexive frequently self-undermining anti-capitalist diatribes; much joy ensues on my part.
The other ones that I particularly like are Questionable Content and Scary Go Round.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Pretty Girls Make Graves - "The Nocturnal House"
New Pretty Girls Make Graves! For my money, they're the best rock band going around at the moment, so new stuff is cause for excitement, especially given how brilliant their last, The New Romance, was. It's called "The Nocturnal House" and I just found out about it tonight and I've basically been listening to it over and over since, and it's different from their older stuff but probably equally kick-ass, because that's what always happens with this band.
It's hard to describe the song - it doesn't sound like anything much except Pretty Girls Make Graves. I guess that it's a fairly natural progression from The New Romance - it's that same urgent, resonant, thudding, spiralling, dense, intricately constructed, shouty (Zollo's in good voice and there's some of that fun background shouting, too), post-hardcore indie-rock stuff, except, like, more so (oh yeah, and it has whistles). Plus it works that same trick of having all kinds of weird tempo changes yet never for a second seeming to falter in its headlong stabbing forward rush; typical genius moment comes about 2:40 in, when all of the instrumentation suddenly slows and crashes in unison, refiguring the opening guitar kick, and you realise that you've been waiting the whole song for precisely that to happen. If the whole album (Elan Vital, due out in April) is as good as this, we're in for a treat.
Here (and see also here).
In other PGMG news, have got my ticket to Laneway Festival but am seriously thinking about also hitting the solo show the night before. Other gigs hopefully coming up in the next few weeks: M.I.A., Lisa Miller, Kathleen Edwards...
Anyway, I don't think that I can face the prospect of going out tonight (at least not yet), what with this heat and all; sitting at home and continuing to listen to "The Nocturnal House" at least for a while longer seems like a much better bet.
It's hard to describe the song - it doesn't sound like anything much except Pretty Girls Make Graves. I guess that it's a fairly natural progression from The New Romance - it's that same urgent, resonant, thudding, spiralling, dense, intricately constructed, shouty (Zollo's in good voice and there's some of that fun background shouting, too), post-hardcore indie-rock stuff, except, like, more so (oh yeah, and it has whistles). Plus it works that same trick of having all kinds of weird tempo changes yet never for a second seeming to falter in its headlong stabbing forward rush; typical genius moment comes about 2:40 in, when all of the instrumentation suddenly slows and crashes in unison, refiguring the opening guitar kick, and you realise that you've been waiting the whole song for precisely that to happen. If the whole album (Elan Vital, due out in April) is as good as this, we're in for a treat.
Here (and see also here).
In other PGMG news, have got my ticket to Laneway Festival but am seriously thinking about also hitting the solo show the night before. Other gigs hopefully coming up in the next few weeks: M.I.A., Lisa Miller, Kathleen Edwards...
Anyway, I don't think that I can face the prospect of going out tonight (at least not yet), what with this heat and all; sitting at home and continuing to listen to "The Nocturnal House" at least for a while longer seems like a much better bet.
Dusty Springfield - Dusty
Well, it's Dusty Springfield - what's to say? I've been intending to pick up some kind of best-of for a little while now, and they're not difficult to track down cheaply, especially with the new stage show (which I still have some hopes of motivating myself to get to, money again being the sticking point) and all. So of course I've been enjoying listening to this, though I could wish that it had been chronologically tracklisted, instead of jumping around as it does; in particular, such an ordering would've made it easier for me to avoid the synth/disco-era stuff that's scattered throughout. The Dusty I like is the soulful, insightful interpreter of classic pop tunes who has that knack of perfectly conveying emotion and meaning, make you feel as if she feels every nuance of what she's singing about - the Bacharach and David numbers are the ones with which I'm most familiar ("I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself", "Twenty Four Hours From Tulsa", "The Look Of Love", etc...and I didn't know that "Wishin' And Hopin'" was one of theirs), but there are so many others collected here (the Carole King-penned "Goin' Back" is one highlight among many) and no doubt elsewhere in her back catalogue. Only one song from Dusty in Memphis - "Son Of A Preacher Man", of course - which seems to be the one to get, both by reputation and in terms of the side of her music that I favour ("Breakfast In Bed", which isn't included on this set, is probably my favourite of the Dusty songs I've heard).
Belowparecords summer sampler 2003/2004
Two songs each by bands called Brand New and Kisschasy, and one by In The Grey, none of whom I've heard before (though the name 'Kisschasy', at least, rung some faint bells)...all a bit emo-pop-punk (in that three-chord indie rock-inflected aiming-for-anthemic nice-enough-if-you're-into-this-kinda-stuff-which-I'm-not way) for me...unwieldy description but you know the kind of music I'm talking about.
Monday, January 16, 2006
A Pure Formality
Frenetic, fractured opening in black and white; a gunshot, a man running; heavy rain, forest all around. The man (Gerard Depardieu) is picked up by the police and taken to an isolated, ramshackle building where he is questioned by a mysterious inspector (Roman Polanski); the film unfolds as a shadowy metaphysical thriller more concerned with exploring various big questions (to do with guilt, remorse, memory, and death, to name just a few) than simply 'whodunnit'. The last, and only previous, time I saw this was in high school, probably about seven or eight years ago, when I thought that it was brilliant (I was right into French films at that point and was all into this kind of thing; plus, the twist blew my mind); it was nowhere near as good this time round but still had a certain appealing murky style to it.
Magnificent Desolation: Walking on the Moon 3D
It's about walking on the moon! And it's in 3D! On a big big screen! And voiced by Tom Hanks!
Okay, so I'm being a bit facetious...I only went to see this because David suggested it after his dvd copy of season 2 of Arrested Development wouldn't work and I like to drift along in friends' wakes when they have ideas and whims. Still, I'm glad I went, if only to see what this IMAX business is all about (y'know, whee, goggles!); the feature itself was okay, I guess, mildly spectacular though light on substance and completely US-centric, as one would expect...ah, it was alright, but I got distracted halfway through by being pissed off at the amount of money that's been spent on space voyages but which could've been put towards some more immediately helpful cause here on the ground (though once you start on those kinds of thoughts, where do they end?).
Okay, so I'm being a bit facetious...I only went to see this because David suggested it after his dvd copy of season 2 of Arrested Development wouldn't work and I like to drift along in friends' wakes when they have ideas and whims. Still, I'm glad I went, if only to see what this IMAX business is all about (y'know, whee, goggles!); the feature itself was okay, I guess, mildly spectacular though light on substance and completely US-centric, as one would expect...ah, it was alright, but I got distracted halfway through by being pissed off at the amount of money that's been spent on space voyages but which could've been put towards some more immediately helpful cause here on the ground (though once you start on those kinds of thoughts, where do they end?).
Music of 2005
Below, the tracklist for a cd made up of the stuff I listened to the most during 2005 or, at least, most strongly associate with the year:
1. Right In Time - Lucinda Williams
Definitely one of my artists of the year (along with Gillian Welch and, in a different way, Aimee Mann). "Right In Time" is the opening cut on her best album, Car Wheels On A Gravel Road, and I clearly remember the first time I heard it (and especially the chorus): on my discman as I walked down Swanston Street, late afternoon, with the sun on my face, wind in my hair, and that familiar sense of freedom mingled with regret upon me. It's still glorious.
2. In State - Kathleen Edwards
A sustained, swooning rush, epitomising the countryish female singer-songwriter theme of the year.
3. Little Stars - Lisa Miller
This was the first of Miller's post-As Far As A Life Goes songs that I heard - on that Country Songbirds compilation, which turned out to be just as significant to my 2005 (and beyond) as the rage one was along the road to the indie canon all those years ago - and very wonderful it is, too. Dreamy, heartfelt, and rather beautiful.
4. Little Bombs - Aimee Mann
...life just kind of empties out...
I probably listened to The Forgotten Arm twice as much as the next most highly-rotated album in these parts over '05, and that's a conservative guess; "Little Bombs" is the album's highlight, and completely the song to which I most sulked and burned over the year. Although in general 2005 was a pretty good year for me, I did spend parts of it feeling quite sad, and this was the perfect song for those times. [*]
5. Kaifuku Suru Kizu - Lily Chou-Chou
Gorgeously plaintive, pretty, and too sad for words. I spent a lot of time listening to this one, usually at night, in the first half of the year in particular. [*]
6. I Know I Know I Know - Tegan and Sara
...the weather is changing and breaking my stride...
Because I didn't hear a cuter or more catchy song all year, nor one that was more liable to make me feel happy in a slightly light-headed, silly kinda way. (And for another reason that we don't need to go into here...)
7. 14th Street - Laura Cantrell
Cantrell's such a lovely, unaffected singer and yet always so interesting to listen to; this song is a perfect fit in its sweet, yearning simplicity.
8. Cowgirl In The Sand - Neil Young with Crazy Horse
2005 was also the year in which Neil Young finally really made sense to me, and when it happened, it did so in a big way. I mostly associate his music with driving (especially on the freeway) or drifting (especially around the city), and "Cowgirl In The Sand" - fiery and plangent, urgent and tender, rockin' and introspective - especially goes with the first of those. [*]
9. Wrecking Ball - Gillian Welch
...showed me colours I'd never seen...
I actually discovered Soul Journey in '04, but it was in 2005 that the album - and Welch's music generally - really took hold of me. "Wrecking Ball" is my favourite of her songs, and the one that I'm most likely to have playing while I lie around by myself and dream of past and future. I wrote somewhere that listening to the song feels like coming home, and somehow it does, though I don't quite know what that means.
10. Ride The Wind To Me - Julie Miller
Another lovely, melodic song from the Country Songbirds set which, instead of fading away after the initial infatuation, continues to work its way deeper and deeper into my heart.
11. Neighbourhood #1 (Tunnels) - The Arcade Fire
The last out-and-out rock band that I got really into, and possibly the last one for some time to come, too, if current tastes are anything to go by (evidently, 2005 was the year in which I found country music, at least as done by women in the last 20 years or so); while Funeral is brilliant but flawed, "Neighbourhood #1" is basically impeccable. It's sort of a coda on this cd for the simple pragmatic reason that it screws up the transitions when put anywhere else, but I feel as if this band, and this song, were everywhere in '05. [*]
1. Right In Time - Lucinda Williams
Definitely one of my artists of the year (along with Gillian Welch and, in a different way, Aimee Mann). "Right In Time" is the opening cut on her best album, Car Wheels On A Gravel Road, and I clearly remember the first time I heard it (and especially the chorus): on my discman as I walked down Swanston Street, late afternoon, with the sun on my face, wind in my hair, and that familiar sense of freedom mingled with regret upon me. It's still glorious.
2. In State - Kathleen Edwards
A sustained, swooning rush, epitomising the countryish female singer-songwriter theme of the year.
3. Little Stars - Lisa Miller
This was the first of Miller's post-As Far As A Life Goes songs that I heard - on that Country Songbirds compilation, which turned out to be just as significant to my 2005 (and beyond) as the rage one was along the road to the indie canon all those years ago - and very wonderful it is, too. Dreamy, heartfelt, and rather beautiful.
4. Little Bombs - Aimee Mann
...life just kind of empties out...
I probably listened to The Forgotten Arm twice as much as the next most highly-rotated album in these parts over '05, and that's a conservative guess; "Little Bombs" is the album's highlight, and completely the song to which I most sulked and burned over the year. Although in general 2005 was a pretty good year for me, I did spend parts of it feeling quite sad, and this was the perfect song for those times. [*]
5. Kaifuku Suru Kizu - Lily Chou-Chou
Gorgeously plaintive, pretty, and too sad for words. I spent a lot of time listening to this one, usually at night, in the first half of the year in particular. [*]
6. I Know I Know I Know - Tegan and Sara
...the weather is changing and breaking my stride...
Because I didn't hear a cuter or more catchy song all year, nor one that was more liable to make me feel happy in a slightly light-headed, silly kinda way. (And for another reason that we don't need to go into here...)
7. 14th Street - Laura Cantrell
Cantrell's such a lovely, unaffected singer and yet always so interesting to listen to; this song is a perfect fit in its sweet, yearning simplicity.
8. Cowgirl In The Sand - Neil Young with Crazy Horse
2005 was also the year in which Neil Young finally really made sense to me, and when it happened, it did so in a big way. I mostly associate his music with driving (especially on the freeway) or drifting (especially around the city), and "Cowgirl In The Sand" - fiery and plangent, urgent and tender, rockin' and introspective - especially goes with the first of those. [*]
9. Wrecking Ball - Gillian Welch
...showed me colours I'd never seen...
I actually discovered Soul Journey in '04, but it was in 2005 that the album - and Welch's music generally - really took hold of me. "Wrecking Ball" is my favourite of her songs, and the one that I'm most likely to have playing while I lie around by myself and dream of past and future. I wrote somewhere that listening to the song feels like coming home, and somehow it does, though I don't quite know what that means.
10. Ride The Wind To Me - Julie Miller
Another lovely, melodic song from the Country Songbirds set which, instead of fading away after the initial infatuation, continues to work its way deeper and deeper into my heart.
11. Neighbourhood #1 (Tunnels) - The Arcade Fire
The last out-and-out rock band that I got really into, and possibly the last one for some time to come, too, if current tastes are anything to go by (evidently, 2005 was the year in which I found country music, at least as done by women in the last 20 years or so); while Funeral is brilliant but flawed, "Neighbourhood #1" is basically impeccable. It's sort of a coda on this cd for the simple pragmatic reason that it screws up the transitions when put anywhere else, but I feel as if this band, and this song, were everywhere in '05. [*]
Madeleine Peyroux - Careless Love
Bluesy, night-time, soul-infused jazz, evocatively and languorously sung; highlight is "Between The Bars", piano notes falling like teardrops, melody drifting like rain. Also enjoy Peyroux's take on "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go", and basically likin' the whole record. After a bit of thought, some words which describe her voice: husky, low, warm, caramel, enchanting.
Lisa Miller - Version Originale
This is originally what I was going to write about Version Originale:
Another Lisa Miller album in which the singing is, for the most part, better than the songs. "Little Stars" - one of the key songs of my 2005 - is on it, and there are a few other nice cuts, including several which do stick in the mind, but really most of the charm of this record lies in the richness, warmth and fullness of the music and of Miller's singing in particular.
But each time I listen to the album, the songs grow on me more and more - songs like "New Record", "Pushover", "Hold On", "I Want To Live"...there's a strange sort of magic between the lines of Version Originale, inhering in the songs themselves as much as in the music and singing...it all has a sort of glow, and damnit one day I really will see her play live.
Another Lisa Miller album in which the singing is, for the most part, better than the songs. "Little Stars" - one of the key songs of my 2005 - is on it, and there are a few other nice cuts, including several which do stick in the mind, but really most of the charm of this record lies in the richness, warmth and fullness of the music and of Miller's singing in particular.
But each time I listen to the album, the songs grow on me more and more - songs like "New Record", "Pushover", "Hold On", "I Want To Live"...there's a strange sort of magic between the lines of Version Originale, inhering in the songs themselves as much as in the music and singing...it all has a sort of glow, and damnit one day I really will see her play live.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Good Night, And Good Luck
This one had had separate rave reviews from two of my favourite people (goes without saying that basically all of my favourite people are in tune with me when it comes to pop culture), so I was pretty certain that I'd like it. Turns out that they were right and Good Night, And Good Luck is great - one of the few films I can think of that I'd unhesitatingly recommend to all of my scattered friends and other fellow travellers. It's hard to find words to explain why the film's so good - could it be that we all like it as much as we do just because it's so obviously on the side of right? Actually, there's probably something to that, especially in the present international and domestic political climate...the subject matter is obviously interesting as well as significant (both historically and contemporarily), and there's no doubt in our mind at any point as to who we should be rooting for, which makes for a comforting black and whiteness (ha, ha) to the central issue (well, we all already knew that Joe McCarthy was evil anyway), but there's also a pleasing nuancedness to the characterisations and actions of characters like network boss Bill Paley, talking head Don Hollenback and newsroom types Joe and Shirley Wershba.
Also, it's impeccably stylish - black and white cinematography, jazz punctuation, clean breaks between scenes - which always helps, and it also captures the romance of the newsroom that we've all absorbed and which is really only available to us in historical terms, and primarily cinematically, nowadays. And the ensemble acting is right on. (And the guy who plays Murrow is great, and likewise Clooney.) The whole has a documentary kind of feel, augmented by the inclusion of actual footage of McCarthy, and reminded me of Downfall in that it convinced me, at least while I was watching it, that this was exactly how things actually happened, and also in its technique of seeming to pick up the story midway (couldn't swear to this, but there may not've been any opening credits at all). Seemed to go by very quickly, and I was surprised when it ended.[*]
As it happened, I saw it with three people who are sorta representative of different points along the political spectrum, at least within the limits of the circles in which I usually move - (from left to right) Wei, Rob and Sid - and all of them seemed to enjoy it heaps. (Although maybe one's political orientation doesn't make that much of a difference, as surely all sensible people would realise now, with the benefit of hindsight, that McCarthy was the very furthest thing from a hero, whatever their views on our present straits - or is that just my own perspective showing?). In any case, my esteem for George Clooney continues to rise.
* * *
[*] Admittedly, this may've had something to do with my having been out drinking basically all afternoon and evening beforehand, but I suspect not.
Also, it's impeccably stylish - black and white cinematography, jazz punctuation, clean breaks between scenes - which always helps, and it also captures the romance of the newsroom that we've all absorbed and which is really only available to us in historical terms, and primarily cinematically, nowadays. And the ensemble acting is right on. (And the guy who plays Murrow is great, and likewise Clooney.) The whole has a documentary kind of feel, augmented by the inclusion of actual footage of McCarthy, and reminded me of Downfall in that it convinced me, at least while I was watching it, that this was exactly how things actually happened, and also in its technique of seeming to pick up the story midway (couldn't swear to this, but there may not've been any opening credits at all). Seemed to go by very quickly, and I was surprised when it ended.[*]
As it happened, I saw it with three people who are sorta representative of different points along the political spectrum, at least within the limits of the circles in which I usually move - (from left to right) Wei, Rob and Sid - and all of them seemed to enjoy it heaps. (Although maybe one's political orientation doesn't make that much of a difference, as surely all sensible people would realise now, with the benefit of hindsight, that McCarthy was the very furthest thing from a hero, whatever their views on our present straits - or is that just my own perspective showing?). In any case, my esteem for George Clooney continues to rise.
* * *
[*] Admittedly, this may've had something to do with my having been out drinking basically all afternoon and evening beforehand, but I suspect not.
Song of the moment: Rilo Kiley - "Portions For Foxes"
Shiny indie poptastic wonderfulness, and how's this for an opening lyrical flurry:
Blood in my mouth cause I've been biting my tongue all week/ I keep on talking trash but I never say anything/ And the talking leads to touching/ and the touching leads to sex/ and then there is no mystery left/ and it's bad news ...
The other songs that I've heard off this new album aren't really all that, but I must admit that I'm tempted to buy it anyway.
The other couple of songs currently on particularly high rotation are both Scandinavian pop things: the Cardigans' "I Need Some Fine Wine And You, You Need To Be Nicer" and Robyn's "Be Mine!".
Hurray, pop music!
Blood in my mouth cause I've been biting my tongue all week/ I keep on talking trash but I never say anything/ And the talking leads to touching/ and the touching leads to sex/ and then there is no mystery left/ and it's bad news ...
The other songs that I've heard off this new album aren't really all that, but I must admit that I'm tempted to buy it anyway.
The other couple of songs currently on particularly high rotation are both Scandinavian pop things: the Cardigans' "I Need Some Fine Wine And You, You Need To Be Nicer" and Robyn's "Be Mine!".
Hurray, pop music!
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Nellie McKay - Pretty Little Head [advance version]
This is just too cool...McKay's metier is basically a sort of fusion between vocal jazz and pop, but to describe her music in those terms doesn't do it justice; in particular, it doesn't give a sense of how many other influences work their way into the mix, nor of how stylistically diverse yet coherent the resultant melange is, nor how quirky, nor how independent-minded and unique - nor, for that matter, how delightful. McKay sings in a wry, expressive alto and has a full cupboard of different vocal styles - lower register conversational slides, honey-throated crooning, Birkin/Hardy-styled twee-isms, girlish shrieks, breathy sighs, sudden shouted expostulations - and an array of tricks to decorate her singing, involving fey layering, pretty harmonies, odd echoes and unanticipated emphases, to name just a few. Primary instrument is piano, but it never dominates, and there's a bit of a kitchen sink ethos at work, meaning that organ, electric keyboards, bass, various types of programmed tones and squiggles, and all kinds of percussion also bob up. I'm not good at deciphering lyrics, but what I've picked up (rhyming 'you' with 'status q', or 'Baudelaire' with 'millionaire', and generally giving off an air of fashionable disenchantment) suggests that a lyric sheet would be worth seeing.
Sometimes she plays it relatively straight and smooth (as on "Long and Lazy River"), and she doesn't mind singing a bit of the blues (particularly on "I Am Nothing", which gets a torch vibe happening), but the highlights come when she is most determinedly treading her own path. To pick out a handful of these:
- "Cupcake". A real charmer to open with, a swooping, irresistibly catchy thing in which all of McKay's glorious eccentricity is on full display.
- "There You Are In Me". Scurrying verse, commandingly chanted chorus; hella cool.
- "The Big One". Breaking out the hip hop/electric guitar drama. How this works with the pre-existing vocal jazz/pop thing is anyone's guess.
- "Bee Charmer". Cyndi Lauper duets on this one, and it's a real good 'un - one of those gloriously light pop songs whose chorus always takes you a bit by surprise and hits you hard in the back of the head.
- "Real Life". At full-pelt.
- "We Had It Right". On which k.d. lang pops up - a jaunty, rather lovely ditty in which light jazz meets twee electro-pop.
Apparently the deal is that McKay has had a falling-out with her record company over the release of Pretty Little Head - the company wanted to release this truncated (and hence presumably more commercial) version of the record while McKay was holding out for her original, longer cut - so I don't know when, if ever, it'll hit the stores here. More information and the advance version here.
Sometimes she plays it relatively straight and smooth (as on "Long and Lazy River"), and she doesn't mind singing a bit of the blues (particularly on "I Am Nothing", which gets a torch vibe happening), but the highlights come when she is most determinedly treading her own path. To pick out a handful of these:
- "Cupcake". A real charmer to open with, a swooping, irresistibly catchy thing in which all of McKay's glorious eccentricity is on full display.
- "There You Are In Me". Scurrying verse, commandingly chanted chorus; hella cool.
- "The Big One". Breaking out the hip hop/electric guitar drama. How this works with the pre-existing vocal jazz/pop thing is anyone's guess.
- "Bee Charmer". Cyndi Lauper duets on this one, and it's a real good 'un - one of those gloriously light pop songs whose chorus always takes you a bit by surprise and hits you hard in the back of the head.
- "Real Life". At full-pelt.
- "We Had It Right". On which k.d. lang pops up - a jaunty, rather lovely ditty in which light jazz meets twee electro-pop.
Apparently the deal is that McKay has had a falling-out with her record company over the release of Pretty Little Head - the company wanted to release this truncated (and hence presumably more commercial) version of the record while McKay was holding out for her original, longer cut - so I don't know when, if ever, it'll hit the stores here. More information and the advance version here.
Two good intentions for the rest of the summer
1. More writing, less reading (time not being unlimited).
2. More live music, less general going out (money likewise).
2. More live music, less general going out (money likewise).
Lost Highway: The Story of Country Music
Although I'm not much of a documentary watcher, I did intend to see this series when it was on a while back, for it'd been well reviewed and promised to be interesting; however, I ended up missing every single episode due to some combination of always being out, forgetting to set the vcr, and just plain forgetting (the usual things which ensure that I rarely watch tv). Happily, though, Kevin recorded three out of the four instalments and I was able to get them off him.
The series begins by examining the usual roll call of early mountain music types - Bill Monroe, the Carter Family, Ralph Stanley, and so on - with the usual archival photos and other material, tracing their voyages from front porches to recording studios and providing some interesting insights into the way in which the style became popular and began to sell. The second episode concerns the Nashville scene and the commercialisation of country - this is the one that I didn't get to see (and, fortuitously, the one that I would've been least interested in seeing anyway). Episode three turns to what came after Nashville - Johnny Cash and the outlaw movement, Gram and Emmylou, the 'new traditionalists' (haven't heard much of the stuff from this stream, but I don't think it'd be much my bag), and then two contrasting contemporary developments in the 'alt-country' thing and the massive pop crossovers of Garth Brooks and Shania Twain. And the final episode considers the history of women in country, providing the highlight of the series as far as I'm concerned by devoting a generous amount of time to Gillian Welch in the closing minutes, including interview and concert footage.
'Generous', though, is a relative concept in the context of, I suppose, any documentary series such as this one; each episode's about 50 minutes in length, meaning that the whole stretches out to only 3 and a bit hours, which is not enough to give more than the most cursory overview of a whole set of musical genres from go to (present day) whoa. The makers do a good job within those constraints, and the mix of interviews with older and more contemporary musicians, industry types, and historians/archivists, along with voiceover, historical material and a couple of unobtrusive re-enactments, works well. I didn't learn much from it, but still enjoyed watching to see how things were presented and arranged (and also for the implicit reinforcements of canon that it enacts), and suspect that it'd make a good primer for a complete country music neophyte.
The series begins by examining the usual roll call of early mountain music types - Bill Monroe, the Carter Family, Ralph Stanley, and so on - with the usual archival photos and other material, tracing their voyages from front porches to recording studios and providing some interesting insights into the way in which the style became popular and began to sell. The second episode concerns the Nashville scene and the commercialisation of country - this is the one that I didn't get to see (and, fortuitously, the one that I would've been least interested in seeing anyway). Episode three turns to what came after Nashville - Johnny Cash and the outlaw movement, Gram and Emmylou, the 'new traditionalists' (haven't heard much of the stuff from this stream, but I don't think it'd be much my bag), and then two contrasting contemporary developments in the 'alt-country' thing and the massive pop crossovers of Garth Brooks and Shania Twain. And the final episode considers the history of women in country, providing the highlight of the series as far as I'm concerned by devoting a generous amount of time to Gillian Welch in the closing minutes, including interview and concert footage.
'Generous', though, is a relative concept in the context of, I suppose, any documentary series such as this one; each episode's about 50 minutes in length, meaning that the whole stretches out to only 3 and a bit hours, which is not enough to give more than the most cursory overview of a whole set of musical genres from go to (present day) whoa. The makers do a good job within those constraints, and the mix of interviews with older and more contemporary musicians, industry types, and historians/archivists, along with voiceover, historical material and a couple of unobtrusive re-enactments, works well. I didn't learn much from it, but still enjoyed watching to see how things were presented and arranged (and also for the implicit reinforcements of canon that it enacts), and suspect that it'd make a good primer for a complete country music neophyte.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Zadie Smith - On Beauty
I reckon that this one takes 40 or so pages to properly hit its stride, which it does more or less from the point when the narrative settles down in Wellington, the New England university town where the Belseys - and, soon, the Kippses - make their home. In its setting, then, not to mention its frequently arch tone and the unsparing but rather sympathetic view it takes of its characters, On Beauty naturally brings Alison Lurie to mind for me, but the tone is more contemporary and more overtly concerned with Big Ideas and fashionable -isms (well, the title's a bit of a giveaway, huh?), and Smith - as we would expect from her - also pays much more attention to questions of identity, belonging, race, and family...one of the great strengths of the novel is the way in which it synthesises Smith's more abstract, philosophical concerns with these more down to earth, immediately relevant threads while wrapping the whole up in a Story, with Characters who exasperate us but force us to care about them, or at least respond to them as something more than purely symbolic figures (in a way which never happened in The Autograph Man).
If I were to attempt to leave all the comparisons (to Lurie, to Smith's previous novels, to everything else I've ever read, etc) aside for just one moment, I would simply say that I enjoyed On Beauty - it's easy to read yet also quite substantial, and the prose is deft without being intrusive (barring the occasional over-written descriptive passage which threw me out of the pure sensuous experience of reading and made me become aware that I was holding something constructed in my hands). But I'm also nagged by the elusive feeling that it's not quite all that, and I can't quite put my finger on the reason for the feeling.
Part of it, I think, is that, while I like her heaps, I also tend to be particularly critical of our Zadie. There are probably a few reasons for this: first, there's a sense in which I feel as if I've grown up with her, and as if I've watched her grow up as a writer (a continuing process on both ends, natch); second, and relatedly, she's a contemporary writer, writing about contemporary times; and third, and relatedly again, the milieus [pl?] about which she writes aren't all that far removed from my own (all things being relative)...so that might go some way to explaining why I liked On Beauty so much and yet don't feel completely sold on it.
I do think that Smith has a knack for characterisation - the Belseys and the Kippses all come to life, as do most of the minor characters, often with not a lot of 'page time'...they all seem to live and breathe, and I had the sense that I could begin to guess where they were coming from based on the few small interactions that I had with them - much like meeting people in real life! They're all impressively multi-faceted while always seeming to retain a basic integrity which makes them believable, and it was easy to visualise them, all of which is a testament to the author's skill. (I was, however, left a bit cold by the depictions of Carl and Monty - the former because he seemed a bit of a stock type, and not particularly interesting, and the latter because we always seem to be seeing him through others' eyes and we're given no real explanation for the affair with Chantelle (unless we're supposed to infer that, hey, he and Howard aren't so very different after all).
It's also interesting that, at least after a first read, Smith doesn't seem to have taken any particular stance on a lot of the issues which she raises in the novel. Howard Belsey and Monty Kipps are pretty clearly positioned on opposite sides of the ongoing 'culture wars', and we're given plenty of opportunities to see each of them in action and to observe the effects of their politics on their lives as well as their individual blind spots, but neither seems really to be endorsed. (Incidentally, I was initially a bit ambivalent about the writerly tactic of producing a book on beauty and then having one of the central protagonists be an academic/intellectual champion of anti-representational art (ie, he doesn't like the tomato), as opposed to, say, the more traditionally aesthetic responses of Kiki, but I'm willing to give her that one.) Similarly, there isn't - thank goodness - a clear line on just what 'beauty' is, which in fact (I think, though am not entirely sure) makes On Beauty a better novel.
I do want to go back and re-read White Teeth again some time - I'm with everyone I've spoken to about On Beauty in considering it a definite improvement from The Autograph Man, but I'd also like to go back and compare it to the one with which it all started...I suspect that this latest will turn out to be more mature, and quite possibly the better novel, but less joyfully full of the love of life and words...
If I were to attempt to leave all the comparisons (to Lurie, to Smith's previous novels, to everything else I've ever read, etc) aside for just one moment, I would simply say that I enjoyed On Beauty - it's easy to read yet also quite substantial, and the prose is deft without being intrusive (barring the occasional over-written descriptive passage which threw me out of the pure sensuous experience of reading and made me become aware that I was holding something constructed in my hands). But I'm also nagged by the elusive feeling that it's not quite all that, and I can't quite put my finger on the reason for the feeling.
Part of it, I think, is that, while I like her heaps, I also tend to be particularly critical of our Zadie. There are probably a few reasons for this: first, there's a sense in which I feel as if I've grown up with her, and as if I've watched her grow up as a writer (a continuing process on both ends, natch); second, and relatedly, she's a contemporary writer, writing about contemporary times; and third, and relatedly again, the milieus [pl?] about which she writes aren't all that far removed from my own (all things being relative)...so that might go some way to explaining why I liked On Beauty so much and yet don't feel completely sold on it.
I do think that Smith has a knack for characterisation - the Belseys and the Kippses all come to life, as do most of the minor characters, often with not a lot of 'page time'...they all seem to live and breathe, and I had the sense that I could begin to guess where they were coming from based on the few small interactions that I had with them - much like meeting people in real life! They're all impressively multi-faceted while always seeming to retain a basic integrity which makes them believable, and it was easy to visualise them, all of which is a testament to the author's skill. (I was, however, left a bit cold by the depictions of Carl and Monty - the former because he seemed a bit of a stock type, and not particularly interesting, and the latter because we always seem to be seeing him through others' eyes and we're given no real explanation for the affair with Chantelle (unless we're supposed to infer that, hey, he and Howard aren't so very different after all).
It's also interesting that, at least after a first read, Smith doesn't seem to have taken any particular stance on a lot of the issues which she raises in the novel. Howard Belsey and Monty Kipps are pretty clearly positioned on opposite sides of the ongoing 'culture wars', and we're given plenty of opportunities to see each of them in action and to observe the effects of their politics on their lives as well as their individual blind spots, but neither seems really to be endorsed. (Incidentally, I was initially a bit ambivalent about the writerly tactic of producing a book on beauty and then having one of the central protagonists be an academic/intellectual champion of anti-representational art (ie, he doesn't like the tomato), as opposed to, say, the more traditionally aesthetic responses of Kiki, but I'm willing to give her that one.) Similarly, there isn't - thank goodness - a clear line on just what 'beauty' is, which in fact (I think, though am not entirely sure) makes On Beauty a better novel.
I do want to go back and re-read White Teeth again some time - I'm with everyone I've spoken to about On Beauty in considering it a definite improvement from The Autograph Man, but I'd also like to go back and compare it to the one with which it all started...I suspect that this latest will turn out to be more mature, and quite possibly the better novel, but less joyfully full of the love of life and words...
Tift Merritt - Bramble Rose
Like Caitlin Cary, a North Carolina alt-country chanteuse type, but shares more musically with Sweet Old World era Lucinda, albeit with a sweeter voice and more of a tendency towards balladeering than that latter. Opening track "Trouble Over Me" (the one that I knew before listening to the album) encapsulates the feel of Bramble Rose - strength and fragility, wrapped up in a melody which is rooted in trad country songwriting styles but subtly inventive about it. Indeed, all in all, it's a very well-balanced record, hitting all the right notes without seeming to be merely going through the motions, and it's impressing me so far; summer is the right time of year to be listening to this kind of music, and I think that my appreciation of it will only grow over time.
Tori Amos - The Beekeeper
There was a time when I really loved Tori - memory is unreliable when it comes to things as diffuse as music, but it was something like from 1999 through to early 2003-ish (ie, from year 12 or so up to about the beginning of fourth year uni) - but that time's now pretty much in the past. While I still reckon to venus and back to be her finest hour (much as I like all four of the albums which came before it), for mine, Strange Little Girls was a serious misfire, Scarlet's Walk a muddled, indistinct offering partially redeemed by a handful of strong songs (my initial impressions of it were more positive, but then, as the exhaustive treatment of both Scarlet's Walk and back catalogue in my epinions piece of the time suggests, I was still very much into Tori when it came out, back in October '02), and the new cuts on Tales of a Librarian pleasantly lush but not at all touched by greatness; and in any case, to a considerable extent I've grown out of the old, classic lps as well.
Even so, I had to listen to The Beekeeper, just in case (and particularly given that Tori has a history of making musical turns out of left field, to mix my metaphors) - but alas, while it's worthy enough, it's also basically Scarlet's Walk redux, and probably the first time in her recording history that she's really stood still from one lp to the next (even if SLG, at least, was a rather dramatic backwards step). I haven't listened to it that carefully, and I'm sure that a few of the pretty songs will get prettier, and there'll be at least one or two other growers in amidst the 19 songs/79 minutes, but just now it doesn't seem worth the investment of time to find them. (Then again, I've been asking myself what more I could've wanted from a new Tori album...perhaps the truth is just that I'm over her almost no matter what she might release from now on...)
Even so, I had to listen to The Beekeeper, just in case (and particularly given that Tori has a history of making musical turns out of left field, to mix my metaphors) - but alas, while it's worthy enough, it's also basically Scarlet's Walk redux, and probably the first time in her recording history that she's really stood still from one lp to the next (even if SLG, at least, was a rather dramatic backwards step). I haven't listened to it that carefully, and I'm sure that a few of the pretty songs will get prettier, and there'll be at least one or two other growers in amidst the 19 songs/79 minutes, but just now it doesn't seem worth the investment of time to find them. (Then again, I've been asking myself what more I could've wanted from a new Tori album...perhaps the truth is just that I'm over her almost no matter what she might release from now on...)
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
After finishing watching this, "Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometime" fading out over the closing credits, all I wanted to do was lie on the floor, on my back, and feel a bit. So I did, for a while.
* * *
The other night, Swee Leng and I were talking about what we thought/wished Bob said to Charlotte at the end of Lost in Translation. She went for something like "it'll be difficult, but I think that we should try to make this work", while my version was more along the lines of "it's been amazing; have a great life"; of course, each of us thought that our own version was the more romantic. Anyway, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind sort of charts a course between those two possibilities; more or less romantic, I don't know - but that I'm even considering the question ought to tell you something.
* * *
Memories are unreliable, and so is perception. The world is (only) that which is present(ed) to us as a stream of intentional objects as synthesised by the mind - or, at any rate, our only access to the world is through our minds, or consciousness. The past is only available to us through memories. Memories are only available to us in the moment. What does this say about the status of the world and our perceptions of it? More phenomenology.
This was kinda like a cinematic version of Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World - a version which engages the question of where love and other people fit in.
* * *
So, Eternal Sunshine is excellent. The Kaufman/Gondry partnership makes sense, both on paper and in fact - the ruminations on consciousness and mind are complemented and agmented by the visual inventiveness and surreal aspects of the film. The bright colours and dark edges (never mind the sudden shifts and disappearances) 'feel' like the inside of a mind adrift in its own memories and dreams. Jim Carrey makes you forget that he's Jim Carrey and instead sympathise with him; Kate Winslet also plays somewhat against type (but in the opposite direction) and similarly convinces; Mark Ruffalo and Kirsten Dunst are kooky and funny and spot-on when they need to be serious; Elijah Wood and Tom Wilkinson are suitably woolly-edged while remaining recognisably real when they need to be.
* * *
Listening to the soundtrack as I write this, before I go to bed (2am). I wonder what dreams will follow.
* * *
The other night, Swee Leng and I were talking about what we thought/wished Bob said to Charlotte at the end of Lost in Translation. She went for something like "it'll be difficult, but I think that we should try to make this work", while my version was more along the lines of "it's been amazing; have a great life"; of course, each of us thought that our own version was the more romantic. Anyway, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind sort of charts a course between those two possibilities; more or less romantic, I don't know - but that I'm even considering the question ought to tell you something.
* * *
Memories are unreliable, and so is perception. The world is (only) that which is present(ed) to us as a stream of intentional objects as synthesised by the mind - or, at any rate, our only access to the world is through our minds, or consciousness. The past is only available to us through memories. Memories are only available to us in the moment. What does this say about the status of the world and our perceptions of it? More phenomenology.
This was kinda like a cinematic version of Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World - a version which engages the question of where love and other people fit in.
* * *
So, Eternal Sunshine is excellent. The Kaufman/Gondry partnership makes sense, both on paper and in fact - the ruminations on consciousness and mind are complemented and agmented by the visual inventiveness and surreal aspects of the film. The bright colours and dark edges (never mind the sudden shifts and disappearances) 'feel' like the inside of a mind adrift in its own memories and dreams. Jim Carrey makes you forget that he's Jim Carrey and instead sympathise with him; Kate Winslet also plays somewhat against type (but in the opposite direction) and similarly convinces; Mark Ruffalo and Kirsten Dunst are kooky and funny and spot-on when they need to be serious; Elijah Wood and Tom Wilkinson are suitably woolly-edged while remaining recognisably real when they need to be.
* * *
Listening to the soundtrack as I write this, before I go to bed (2am). I wonder what dreams will follow.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Million Dollar Baby
Powerful and mostly understated film-making ('mostly' because it's a bit weighed down by some of the voiceover material at the start, and occasionally by the hints as to Frankie's past, though both are, I guess, necessary for the integrity of the film as a whole) - this is very, very good. For a film in which boxing plays such an important role, Million Dollar Baby is surprisingly quiet and still - there's very little in the way of external flamboyance or pyrotechnics, either physical or emotional. Instead, events just sort of unfold, one after another, and the story (straightforward, measured, inexorable) and the main characters (battered, on the margins of society, decent) are left to carry the load, and come up trumps.
It's quite meticulously constructed, and the acting in particular is excellent. Ole Clint, of course, has shown himself a master of these kinds of character studies in the past, and does it again here, while Hilary Swank is, as ever, excellent; Morgan Freeman also does the job in unobtrusive style. If only I hadn't already known the twist that the film would take, and its outcome, the emotional punch that it packs probably would've been even intense; even as it is, I felt myself carried along by the story, and was prompted to think afterwards about what I would've done in Frankie's position (it's relatively unusual for a film or book to trigger those sorts of reflections on my part).
(I don't think that Million Dollar Baby really takes a stance on that vexed question of euthanasia - once it gets to that point, it strikes me more as a rather sensitive presentation of the issue without any particular polemical intent - but that opinion may, to some extent, be attributable to my being guardedly in favour of legalising 'assisted death'...possibly opponents of the practice would be more inclined to see the film as quite clearly pro-euthanasia (and, if I remember correctly, many of them did at the time that this film first hit the multiplexes).)
It's quite meticulously constructed, and the acting in particular is excellent. Ole Clint, of course, has shown himself a master of these kinds of character studies in the past, and does it again here, while Hilary Swank is, as ever, excellent; Morgan Freeman also does the job in unobtrusive style. If only I hadn't already known the twist that the film would take, and its outcome, the emotional punch that it packs probably would've been even intense; even as it is, I felt myself carried along by the story, and was prompted to think afterwards about what I would've done in Frankie's position (it's relatively unusual for a film or book to trigger those sorts of reflections on my part).
(I don't think that Million Dollar Baby really takes a stance on that vexed question of euthanasia - once it gets to that point, it strikes me more as a rather sensitive presentation of the issue without any particular polemical intent - but that opinion may, to some extent, be attributable to my being guardedly in favour of legalising 'assisted death'...possibly opponents of the practice would be more inclined to see the film as quite clearly pro-euthanasia (and, if I remember correctly, many of them did at the time that this film first hit the multiplexes).)
Arrested Development (season 1)
David's been talking this show up for ages, and recently decided to lend me the dvd set for season 1, in the hope that I would watch the first couple and then get hooked. One might well think that this was an unlikely hope given my own apathy towards basically all television, but to think that would be to reckon without: (a) the strange torpor-inducing power of summer (especially when full-time work awaits at its end); (b) the far better experience provided by being able to watch numerous episodes on end, without the curse of ad breaks, and without needing to remember to be home at, or to set the vcr for, the relevant times (I've always found life too short and too full, even over the summer holidays, to be organised around tv); and (c) the quality of Arrested Development itself. So, with all of those things aligned, I got quite into the show and ended up going through that first season pretty quickly.
The main thing about it, of course, is that it's funny, but it's also very fast-moving, and I like the way that there are some continuing narratives which run through all the episodes (most obviously to do with George Sr's incarceration and upcoming trial, and Michael's efforts to take over the running of the business) - there's a sense of plot (and, to some extent, character) development which is satisfying and makes me want to find out what happens in the next episode, and then the next, and so on. The wit seems a bit sharper than that to be found in most sitcoms (not that I'd really know), and the writers are willing to tread out on thin ice on occasion, plus the slapstick is funny in context - and, thank goodness, there's no laugh track. I don't really have favourite characters, but they're all well-realised despite their (dominating) comical aspects, and in the end the show is too warm-hearted not to be basically merciful in its presentation of them, for all of their (very pronounced) flaws and foibles.
Also, the show has taught me something that it had never even crossed my mind that I might learn - that Portia de Rossi is very attractive. Also-also, the number of Buster lookalikes - albeit generally marginally better dressed - roaming the cbd is quite remarkable (but perhaps that oughtn't to've been a surprise).
(I'd thought that, when I came to write this up, I might also do a 'Howard and television' summation, but really, who can be bothered?)
The main thing about it, of course, is that it's funny, but it's also very fast-moving, and I like the way that there are some continuing narratives which run through all the episodes (most obviously to do with George Sr's incarceration and upcoming trial, and Michael's efforts to take over the running of the business) - there's a sense of plot (and, to some extent, character) development which is satisfying and makes me want to find out what happens in the next episode, and then the next, and so on. The wit seems a bit sharper than that to be found in most sitcoms (not that I'd really know), and the writers are willing to tread out on thin ice on occasion, plus the slapstick is funny in context - and, thank goodness, there's no laugh track. I don't really have favourite characters, but they're all well-realised despite their (dominating) comical aspects, and in the end the show is too warm-hearted not to be basically merciful in its presentation of them, for all of their (very pronounced) flaws and foibles.
Also, the show has taught me something that it had never even crossed my mind that I might learn - that Portia de Rossi is very attractive. Also-also, the number of Buster lookalikes - albeit generally marginally better dressed - roaming the cbd is quite remarkable (but perhaps that oughtn't to've been a surprise).
(I'd thought that, when I came to write this up, I might also do a 'Howard and television' summation, but really, who can be bothered?)
Sunday, January 08, 2006
André Gide - The Counterfeiters (and a list of my favourite novels read in 2005)
We never come to any art free of preconceptions or expectations, and in the case of The Counterfeiters, this meant that I was strongly predisposed towards the novel before I started it. See, it was a gift from Sarah, given with the sentiment that she was certain that it would fit my sensitivities (it's one of her favourites, too); having finished it a few weeks on, I'm unsure whether to be miffed or pleased that she was so right.
Essentially, the novel is an account of the doings and entanglements of a number of middle-to-upper class types, many of them schoolboys, in between-the-wars Paris (it was published in 1925, the same year as Mrs Dalloway across the channel, and a year before The Great Gatsby emerged on the other side of the Atlantic). Their relations to each other are complex in more than one sense (I had to stop and draw myself a character map about a third of the way through in order to keep track of who everyone was and how they were connected to everyone else, and in so doing realised how little it did justice to the intricacies and subtleties of those relations), and most are of a pronouncedly literary bent, being writers, editors, and so on. Even those who aren't directly implicated with literature and the arts are very much 'literary' characters, being prone to introspection, abstraction of thought, fluidity of expression and extended disquisitions...in other words, just the sorts who I like, in literature and in life.
While centre stage is initially occupied by Bernard and Olivier, Olivier's uncle Edouard soon assumes a pivotal position in the novel's overall scheme. Edouard is a writer, and we have access to his thoughts through extracts from his notebooks; moreover, it turns out that he's writing a novel called 'The Counterfeiters' and is given to lengthy excursions on the subject not only of that novel, but of art in general...très metafictional.
The counterfeiters of the title of Gide's novel are, on one level, the makers and schoolboy passers of counterfeit coins whose activities, both with the false coinage and with the institution of a rather seedy quasi-brothel frequented exclusively by these privileged children of pillars of society (both Bernard's and Olivier's fathers are eminent jurists; the contrast between that profession and the activities of some of their children and childrens' schoolfellows is surely intentional), form one thread of the story. But one is also led to wonder whether all the characters of the novel are engaged in a more figurative passing of false coin - of being counterfeiters - through everyday hypocrisy, failures of understanding or imagination, excessive artifice, excessive self-denial, and in countless other ways. And, as is made explicit in the comments of the cynical Strouvilhou near the end, also at stake is the question of the status of art (including, presumably, The Counterfeiters itself), which is where the metafictionality becomes doubly important:
So all of this of course took my fancy, especially when presented in prose so sharp and unsparing (and sometimes very witty), and with its characters continually falling into a series of unfortunate relationships with one another, of variously assumed, obscure and hinted-at characters (there's more than a whiff of pederasty to many of the interactions), and also carrying on this whirl of erudite, elegant, and often rather cutting conversations, sometimes scoring points off one another, sometimes floundering in a sea of mutual misunderstandings and things left unspoken (most notably between Olivier and Edouard)...it actually put me rather in mind of The Secret History, even though they're quite different novels in many ways.
I've just noticed that, in pecking out these impressions, I have, as is my wont, emphasised the 'literary' aspects of the novel over its more 'human' or 'natural' elements (say, to do with character and plot!), but I think that this is a kind of reading which is positively invited by The Counterfeiters - I mean, it even has a chapter entitled 'The Author Reviews His Characters'...it's also difficult to pin down because it refuses to focus on any one of its individual characters in any conventional way, often disposing of them or raising them to sudden prominence rather peremptorily. Anyhow, there was more that I wanted to say about The Counterfeiters but, as with every book that I really like, it'd be futile to attempt an exhaustive recapitulation/excavation of my responses to it - and so instead I'll leave off here.
* * *
Edit [16/2/06]: Thoughts on the ending here.
* * *
Top 14 favourite novels first read in 2005, in order (14 because that's how many have really stuck with me):
1. Hard-Boiled Wonderland And The End Of The World - Haruki Murakami
2. To The Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf
3. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle - Haruki Murakami
4. The Counterfeiters - André Gide [I'm including this one because: (a) I was a fair way into it by the time the new year rolled over; and (b) it feels so much like an '05 book in terms of my personal history]
5. The Master And Margarita - Mikhail Bulgakov
6. Mrs Dalloway - Virginia Woolf
7. A Wild Sheep Chase - Haruki Murakami
8. Catch-22 - Joseph Heller
9. The New York Trilogy - Paul Auster
10. South Of The Border, West Of The Sun - Haruki Murakami
11. Fear And Trembling - Amélie Nothomb
12. Lord Malquist & Mr Moon - Tom Stoppard
13. Beloved - Toni Morrison
14. Love & Friendship - Alison Lurie
Up till now - as is right - my tastes, my feelings, my personal experiences have all gone to feed my writings; in my best contrived phrases I still felt the beating of my heart. But henceforth the link is broken between what I think and what I feel. And I wonder whether this impediment which prevents my heart from speaking is not the real cause that is driving my work into abstraction and artificiality.
Essentially, the novel is an account of the doings and entanglements of a number of middle-to-upper class types, many of them schoolboys, in between-the-wars Paris (it was published in 1925, the same year as Mrs Dalloway across the channel, and a year before The Great Gatsby emerged on the other side of the Atlantic). Their relations to each other are complex in more than one sense (I had to stop and draw myself a character map about a third of the way through in order to keep track of who everyone was and how they were connected to everyone else, and in so doing realised how little it did justice to the intricacies and subtleties of those relations), and most are of a pronouncedly literary bent, being writers, editors, and so on. Even those who aren't directly implicated with literature and the arts are very much 'literary' characters, being prone to introspection, abstraction of thought, fluidity of expression and extended disquisitions...in other words, just the sorts who I like, in literature and in life.
The street where Bernard Profitendieu had lived until then was quite close to the Luxembourg Gardens. There, in the path that overlooks the Medici fountains, some of his schoolfellows were in the habit of meeting, every Wednesday afternoon, between four and six. The talk was of art, philosophy, sport, politics and literature. [...] Every one of them, as soon as he was in company with the others, lost his naturalness and began to act a part.
While centre stage is initially occupied by Bernard and Olivier, Olivier's uncle Edouard soon assumes a pivotal position in the novel's overall scheme. Edouard is a writer, and we have access to his thoughts through extracts from his notebooks; moreover, it turns out that he's writing a novel called 'The Counterfeiters' and is given to lengthy excursions on the subject not only of that novel, but of art in general...très metafictional.
'My poor dear friend, you will make your readers die of boredom,' said Laura; as she could no longer hide her smile, she had made up her mind to laugh outright.
'Not at all. In order to arrive at this effect - do you follow me? - I invent the character of a novelist, whom I make my central figure; and the subject of the book, if you must have one, is just that very struggle between what reality offers him and what he himself desires to make of it.'
'Yes, yes; I'm beginning to see,' said Sophroniska politely, though Laura's laugh was very near conquering her. 'But you know it's always dangerous to represent intellectuals in novels. The public is bored by them; one only manages to make them say absurdities and they give an air of abstraction to everything they touch.'
'And then I see exactly what will happen,' cried Laura; 'in this novel of yours you won't be able to help painting yourself.'
The counterfeiters of the title of Gide's novel are, on one level, the makers and schoolboy passers of counterfeit coins whose activities, both with the false coinage and with the institution of a rather seedy quasi-brothel frequented exclusively by these privileged children of pillars of society (both Bernard's and Olivier's fathers are eminent jurists; the contrast between that profession and the activities of some of their children and childrens' schoolfellows is surely intentional), form one thread of the story. But one is also led to wonder whether all the characters of the novel are engaged in a more figurative passing of false coin - of being counterfeiters - through everyday hypocrisy, failures of understanding or imagination, excessive artifice, excessive self-denial, and in countless other ways. And, as is made explicit in the comments of the cynical Strouvilhou near the end, also at stake is the question of the status of art (including, presumably, The Counterfeiters itself), which is where the metafictionality becomes doubly important:
' [...] We live upon nothing but feelings which have been taken for granted once for all and which the reader imagines he experiences, because he believes everything he sees in print; the author builds on this as he does on the conventions which he believes to be the foundations of his art. These feelings ring as false as counters, but they pass current. And as everyone knows that "bad money drives out good", a man who should offer the public real coins would seem to be defrauding us. [...]'
So all of this of course took my fancy, especially when presented in prose so sharp and unsparing (and sometimes very witty), and with its characters continually falling into a series of unfortunate relationships with one another, of variously assumed, obscure and hinted-at characters (there's more than a whiff of pederasty to many of the interactions), and also carrying on this whirl of erudite, elegant, and often rather cutting conversations, sometimes scoring points off one another, sometimes floundering in a sea of mutual misunderstandings and things left unspoken (most notably between Olivier and Edouard)...it actually put me rather in mind of The Secret History, even though they're quite different novels in many ways.
I've just noticed that, in pecking out these impressions, I have, as is my wont, emphasised the 'literary' aspects of the novel over its more 'human' or 'natural' elements (say, to do with character and plot!), but I think that this is a kind of reading which is positively invited by The Counterfeiters - I mean, it even has a chapter entitled 'The Author Reviews His Characters'...it's also difficult to pin down because it refuses to focus on any one of its individual characters in any conventional way, often disposing of them or raising them to sudden prominence rather peremptorily. Anyhow, there was more that I wanted to say about The Counterfeiters but, as with every book that I really like, it'd be futile to attempt an exhaustive recapitulation/excavation of my responses to it - and so instead I'll leave off here.
* * *
Edit [16/2/06]: Thoughts on the ending here.
* * *
Top 14 favourite novels first read in 2005, in order (14 because that's how many have really stuck with me):
1. Hard-Boiled Wonderland And The End Of The World - Haruki Murakami
2. To The Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf
3. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle - Haruki Murakami
4. The Counterfeiters - André Gide [I'm including this one because: (a) I was a fair way into it by the time the new year rolled over; and (b) it feels so much like an '05 book in terms of my personal history]
5. The Master And Margarita - Mikhail Bulgakov
6. Mrs Dalloway - Virginia Woolf
7. A Wild Sheep Chase - Haruki Murakami
8. Catch-22 - Joseph Heller
9. The New York Trilogy - Paul Auster
10. South Of The Border, West Of The Sun - Haruki Murakami
11. Fear And Trembling - Amélie Nothomb
12. Lord Malquist & Mr Moon - Tom Stoppard
13. Beloved - Toni Morrison
14. Love & Friendship - Alison Lurie
Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events
Read the first couple of books in this series a couple of years back, but didn't - rather against expectations - hugely get into them; it was one of those instances where I liked the idea very much more than the execution. Anyhow, response to film is similar - it's neat, and inventive, and engages quite a few of my minor fetishes, and I was digging the set design, costumes, and general ramshackle Gorey/Burton/self-reflexivity thing, but for some reason it never really quite grabbed hold...maybe I was just taking it too much for granted and wasn't suitably appreciative of the subversiveness and joy of the basic idea.
Kelis - Kaleidoscope
The one with "Caught Out There" on it. Don't have a lot to say about the album, except that I continue to find 95% of all hip-hop exquisitely uninteresting to listen to, and Kaleidoscope doesn't fall into the other 5%...well, we all have our blind spots.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
The Strokes - First Impressions of Earth
I reckon that most sensible people were past the hype -- backlash -- backlash-against-the-backlash thing that the Strokes copped in relation to Is This It by the time Room On Fire came out, and have had time since to work out that (a) Is This It doesn't sound that much like Television, (b) Room On Fire doesn't sound that much like the Cars (well okay, except on one or two songs), and (c) while the Strokes aren't likely to save rock and roll, both of their lps to date have been pretty darn solid, catchy pop-rock record-things, and they're a pretty darn good band.
As to this newest one, well, the first thing one notices is that it's a bit of a change in sound - more 'stadium-rock' in sound, and fuller and harder-rocking (though it also has more slow songs), maybe a little more expansive and definitely more diverse and covering more ground than the earlier two albums. The second thing to notice is that despite these changes, it still sounds every inch a Strokes album. And the third thing, which comes quite a bit later, is that, contrary to first impressions (no pun intended), it's not that much of a drop-off from Is This It and Room On Fire.
There are plenty of things wrong with First Impressions of Earth - it's too long, some of the experiments don't work (the world didn't need the Strokes to go all Magnetic Fields, as on "Ask Me Anything"), a few of the songs drag. But on the other side of the ledger, when it hits ("You Only Live Once", "Juicebox", "Heart In A Cage", "Killing Lies"), it hits hard, and you have to give the band credit for stretching themselves (even if, on this third outing, the alternative would have been assured mediocrity). Cons, pros...the album may not be as tight as I'd like, but the band is as tight as ever; some of the songs which eventually fall into heaps or become boring at least start really well or have really good bits ("On The Other Side", "Vision Of Division", the Muse-esque "Electricityscape"). On the whole, it doesn't quite work for me, but it's neither a complete nor an ignoble failure.
As to this newest one, well, the first thing one notices is that it's a bit of a change in sound - more 'stadium-rock' in sound, and fuller and harder-rocking (though it also has more slow songs), maybe a little more expansive and definitely more diverse and covering more ground than the earlier two albums. The second thing to notice is that despite these changes, it still sounds every inch a Strokes album. And the third thing, which comes quite a bit later, is that, contrary to first impressions (no pun intended), it's not that much of a drop-off from Is This It and Room On Fire.
There are plenty of things wrong with First Impressions of Earth - it's too long, some of the experiments don't work (the world didn't need the Strokes to go all Magnetic Fields, as on "Ask Me Anything"), a few of the songs drag. But on the other side of the ledger, when it hits ("You Only Live Once", "Juicebox", "Heart In A Cage", "Killing Lies"), it hits hard, and you have to give the band credit for stretching themselves (even if, on this third outing, the alternative would have been assured mediocrity). Cons, pros...the album may not be as tight as I'd like, but the band is as tight as ever; some of the songs which eventually fall into heaps or become boring at least start really well or have really good bits ("On The Other Side", "Vision Of Division", the Muse-esque "Electricityscape"). On the whole, it doesn't quite work for me, but it's neither a complete nor an ignoble failure.
Rilo Kiley - The Execution of All Things
It's taken me long enough to get round to this one; I heard a few songs from it at the time that it was released (2002), most notably "A Better Son/Daughter", a brilliantly tuneful and messed-up anti-anthem, resolutely downcast but somehow overwhelmingly affirmatory, and since then have contrived to hear a majority of its songs in one way or another (downloads, last.fm, radio...) and liked every one. Anyway, a few days ago I realised that I really needed to listen to and own the album, and it lives up to all expectations - it's pretty much as good as this kind of melodic, guitar-driven indie-rock gets (all the better that it has something of a countrified edge).
"A Better Son/Daughter" is still as good as it ever was, but I like "The Execution of All Things" even more - it has the same soaring melodicism, the same slashing guitars, the same attitude, the same utter conviction...and it's even more catchy. At their best, Rilo Kiley have the knack of writing songs and, I suppose, Jenny Lewis has the knack of singing those songs, in such a way that nearly every line (lyrical or instrumental) works as a hook, dragging the listener along in the song's wake, and "The Execution of All Things" is probably the best example of that.
The two other highlights come right at the end: first, "With Arms Outstretched", a uniquely gentle, wide-eyed, aw-shucks top-of-a-mountain moment (complete with strummed acoustic guitar, glockenspiel, handclaps and 'boy choir' including Conor Oberst); then, the band gets its rock gear back on with barnstorming finale "Spectacular Views", one of the few songs on the album to have a genuine chorus, and a helluva good one at that. (That said, the opening pair of "The Good That Won't Come Out" and "Paint's Peeling" is pretty fantastic, too.)
As I sort of suggested earlier, the two best things about The Execution of All Things are the edgy, memorable songwriting and Lewis's delivery (guitarist Blake Sennett also sings on a couple of songs). But the lyrics are also a feature - they have a disaffectedness and a feel of human messiness which is exactly right, and while little fragments often leap out, they work best as wholes, each song forming a self-contained, unified narrative ("A Better Son/Daughter" is the best of these). All in all, I'd go as far as to call this album a minor masterpiece - it's the complete package.
"A Better Son/Daughter" is still as good as it ever was, but I like "The Execution of All Things" even more - it has the same soaring melodicism, the same slashing guitars, the same attitude, the same utter conviction...and it's even more catchy. At their best, Rilo Kiley have the knack of writing songs and, I suppose, Jenny Lewis has the knack of singing those songs, in such a way that nearly every line (lyrical or instrumental) works as a hook, dragging the listener along in the song's wake, and "The Execution of All Things" is probably the best example of that.
The two other highlights come right at the end: first, "With Arms Outstretched", a uniquely gentle, wide-eyed, aw-shucks top-of-a-mountain moment (complete with strummed acoustic guitar, glockenspiel, handclaps and 'boy choir' including Conor Oberst); then, the band gets its rock gear back on with barnstorming finale "Spectacular Views", one of the few songs on the album to have a genuine chorus, and a helluva good one at that. (That said, the opening pair of "The Good That Won't Come Out" and "Paint's Peeling" is pretty fantastic, too.)
As I sort of suggested earlier, the two best things about The Execution of All Things are the edgy, memorable songwriting and Lewis's delivery (guitarist Blake Sennett also sings on a couple of songs). But the lyrics are also a feature - they have a disaffectedness and a feel of human messiness which is exactly right, and while little fragments often leap out, they work best as wholes, each song forming a self-contained, unified narrative ("A Better Son/Daughter" is the best of these). All in all, I'd go as far as to call this album a minor masterpiece - it's the complete package.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Emiliana Torrini - Fisherman's Woman
This one was a gift from David (Christmas-related), and listening to the album, it occurred to me that he was on pretty safe ground in choosing it for me, given my definite fondness for fey, somewhat precious, eccentric female singer-songwriters such as Torrini. A'course, that doesn't diminish the pleasure I've taken in allowing Fisherman's Woman to weave its delicate way into my life in the slightest - it's a very lovely, hushed, unobtrusively pretty record which drifts gently along on its own path, and damnit, this is the sort of thing that I like.
Opener "Nothing Brings Me Down" is the prettiest song on the record, and probably my favourite. But really all of the songs are at least nice, and most are considerably more than that in their cascading, poetic flowerings; for all of its simplicity of construction, the whole album really rewards careful, headphones-while-doing-nothing-else-in-a-dark-room listening. It kind of puts me in mind of The Last Beautiful Day in its gently shimmery music-box vibe, though sparer in its instrumentation and just generally more stripped back; creates a similar sort of mood to outfits like Azure Ray and Hem (quiet, thoughtful, and edged with melancholy without being overwhelmingly downbeat), but musically has more in common with, say, a more acoustic guitar-oriented Björk or Múm at their most restrained. It's actually really difficult to describe or pin down the actual sound of Fisherman's Woman, which is, I guess, a sign of originality - and, most importantly, it all works.
Opener "Nothing Brings Me Down" is the prettiest song on the record, and probably my favourite. But really all of the songs are at least nice, and most are considerably more than that in their cascading, poetic flowerings; for all of its simplicity of construction, the whole album really rewards careful, headphones-while-doing-nothing-else-in-a-dark-room listening. It kind of puts me in mind of The Last Beautiful Day in its gently shimmery music-box vibe, though sparer in its instrumentation and just generally more stripped back; creates a similar sort of mood to outfits like Azure Ray and Hem (quiet, thoughtful, and edged with melancholy without being overwhelmingly downbeat), but musically has more in common with, say, a more acoustic guitar-oriented Björk or Múm at their most restrained. It's actually really difficult to describe or pin down the actual sound of Fisherman's Woman, which is, I guess, a sign of originality - and, most importantly, it all works.
Paul Kelly & The Stormwater Boys - Foggy Highway
Normally, when I really get into bluegrass, it's when done with a female vocalist - I don't know why...guess that's just the way I'm wired. This record's an exception, though - a while back, I heard it playing in Sister Ray's and was interested enough to suss it out at that point, but it's only now that a copy of the album has fallen into my hands, whereupon lo, it's as good as I remembered.
The ensemble is led by Kelly on vocals, and elsewise made up of what is, I guess, the standard modern bluegrass instrumentation - most prominently, banjo and fiddle (the former usually accompanying the vox, pushing the music forward from beneath, the latter either commenting in the upper register or emerging as a separate melodic voice in its own right), shaded by mandolin, guitars (just acoustic, as far as I can hear) and double bass. Mostly comprised of Kelly originals (one cowrite with Archie Roach, another with one A. McGregor, plus a Louvin Brothers' song, "You're Learning", on which Kelly's joined by Kasey Chambers, returning the dueting favour after "I Still Pray"), it's a really quite wonderful contemporary gloss on that high lonesome sound. The songwriting is consistently good, the band knows exactly what it's doing and is technically very sound, Kelly's vocals provide a charismatic focal point (and the harmonies, when they come, are spot-on), and the overall sound hits precisely the right spot. Swinging easily from the declamatory, scene-setting opener "Stumbling Block" through numbers both yearning and rollicking (current favourites are "Rally Round The Drum", "Passed Over" and "Foggy Highway" itself), to penultimate quasi-waltz "Cities Of Texas" and slowed-down gospel/worksong-ish closer "Meet Me In The Middle Of The Air".
The ensemble is led by Kelly on vocals, and elsewise made up of what is, I guess, the standard modern bluegrass instrumentation - most prominently, banjo and fiddle (the former usually accompanying the vox, pushing the music forward from beneath, the latter either commenting in the upper register or emerging as a separate melodic voice in its own right), shaded by mandolin, guitars (just acoustic, as far as I can hear) and double bass. Mostly comprised of Kelly originals (one cowrite with Archie Roach, another with one A. McGregor, plus a Louvin Brothers' song, "You're Learning", on which Kelly's joined by Kasey Chambers, returning the dueting favour after "I Still Pray"), it's a really quite wonderful contemporary gloss on that high lonesome sound. The songwriting is consistently good, the band knows exactly what it's doing and is technically very sound, Kelly's vocals provide a charismatic focal point (and the harmonies, when they come, are spot-on), and the overall sound hits precisely the right spot. Swinging easily from the declamatory, scene-setting opener "Stumbling Block" through numbers both yearning and rollicking (current favourites are "Rally Round The Drum", "Passed Over" and "Foggy Highway" itself), to penultimate quasi-waltz "Cities Of Texas" and slowed-down gospel/worksong-ish closer "Meet Me In The Middle Of The Air".
Miller's Crossing
A while ago, I was talking iconic films with Rosie from Reading The Subject, and the first one she mentioned was Miller's Crossing; it's an early Coen brothers film. Taken together, those two things were enough to get me to watch it, and I'm glad I did. Set in a prohibition era American town controlled by gangsters, it focuses on Gabriel Byrne as Tommy, sad-eyed son-of-a-bitch-as-a-matter-of-pride right hand man to the Irish (of course) boss, whose territory is increasingly being threatened by the eye-talians; cue intrigues, set-ups, gunnings-down, menacing associates, bought police chiefs and public officials, tough-as-nails molls, fixed fights, and all the other cliches of the genre (with some noirish elements creeping in, too).
There are some distinctively Coen touches - the ways in which the grotesque elements of the characters are often highlighted by the angles from which they're filmed, the deadpan violence, and (most notably) the unsentimental yet oddly affecting tone. Another, I suppose, is the way in which we're kept at a bit of a distance from the characters and the story - initially, there's a confusing swirl of names, events and characters (though the basic story is very simple), and the characters all talk in such literate, wise-cracking sentences that one doesn't take them entirely seriously as real people...rather, they're very much 'screen' characters, inhabiting the idea of the gangster film rather than the gangster film itself. Even so, Miller's Crossing has a humanity to it, thanks in part to clever writing and in part to Byrne's sensitive performance, so that we see Tommy as a moral being (albeit with his own highly individual moral code, and with his choices often severely limited by his circumstances) and take him seriously as such through the twists and peregrinations of the plot and his machinations, and despite our limited insight into his underlying motives. (A reading of Tommy and the film which is supported by the film's title and its resultant emphasis on the decision forced upon Tommy when he takes Bernie out to Miller's Crossing to whack him, and the way that falls out at the end of the film, as well as the recurrent imagery of the woods and Tommy's hat.)
There are some distinctively Coen touches - the ways in which the grotesque elements of the characters are often highlighted by the angles from which they're filmed, the deadpan violence, and (most notably) the unsentimental yet oddly affecting tone. Another, I suppose, is the way in which we're kept at a bit of a distance from the characters and the story - initially, there's a confusing swirl of names, events and characters (though the basic story is very simple), and the characters all talk in such literate, wise-cracking sentences that one doesn't take them entirely seriously as real people...rather, they're very much 'screen' characters, inhabiting the idea of the gangster film rather than the gangster film itself. Even so, Miller's Crossing has a humanity to it, thanks in part to clever writing and in part to Byrne's sensitive performance, so that we see Tommy as a moral being (albeit with his own highly individual moral code, and with his choices often severely limited by his circumstances) and take him seriously as such through the twists and peregrinations of the plot and his machinations, and despite our limited insight into his underlying motives. (A reading of Tommy and the film which is supported by the film's title and its resultant emphasis on the decision forced upon Tommy when he takes Bernie out to Miller's Crossing to whack him, and the way that falls out at the end of the film, as well as the recurrent imagery of the woods and Tommy's hat.)
Natalie Merchant - Motherland
Weirdly, it was almost out of a sense of duty that I borrowed this album from the library - a duty owed to myself, since I thought that I might well like it, even though I didn't really expect to. For me, it all started with Merchant's solo debut Tigerlily, a sweetly precious gem of an album, and one which I always associate with gentle summer sadness; after that, I began to get into the Maniacs' back catalogue, and before now I hadn't explored any further with her solo stuff. Motherland is very recognisably Natalie (though I'd never noticed the pronounced vocal similarities between her and Beth Orton before), but has a fuller and perhaps less 'young' sound, covering more stylistic ground than that earlier work. Unsurprisingly, then, I like the dreamier, more folky ballad types the most - "Motherland", "Golden Boy", "Henry Darger" - but it turns out that the whole record is very solid, lightly bathed in the soft golden glow that made Tigerlily so special all those years ago.
Jewel - Pieces of You
Another of those sensitive, somewhat folksy girl singers for whom I have something of a soft spot ("Hands" is the first mp3 that I can remember downloading - how's that for a bit of trivia?); I remember hearing Jewel's first singles - "Who Will Save Your Soul", "You Were Meant For Me", "Foolish Games" - on the radio, back in the day, and they've more or less remained a part of my life since then, in that all-encompassing, vaguely wistful way probably unique to pretty, melancholy pop songs which have had saturation airplay at some point in their existences. Years on, I finally come to listen to the album, Pieces of You, and am surprised by how unpolished and genuinely naïve it is (at least one of the singles - "Foolish Games" - was definitely re-recorded for its single version) given that it was a massive seller in its time. In all honesty, it's not that good - there are too many mediocre, dragging songs and not enough which sparkle with the unaffected grace of the singles - but kind of charming for all that.
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