stylusmagazine.com

Wow - from what I've read so far, the reviews in Stylus are even more pretentious than those on pitchfork (which may or may not be a good thing, natch). Update (a few minutes later): okay, most of them aren't that pretentious -turns out I just read a couple of outliers. Looks like a decent site, though.

Bram Stoker's Dracula

I didn't adore this film even back in the days when I was pretty heavily fixated on vampires, Winona Ryder and Gary Oldman, so I was curious about how I'd respond to it this time round, probably about six or seven years on and with all of those preoccupations having since largely passed; the answer, it turns out, is 'much the same'. It still looks fantastic, and has a definite air of gravity to it, but conversely it's still oddly uninvolving, and possessed of a tendency to tip into OTT-ness (Gary Oldman is a great actor, but some of the scenes are just too much even for him to carry off this side of ham). Also, Keanu Reeves is as bad as I recalled, though I'm more willing this time round to give him the benefit of the doubt and think that he was at least attempting to come across as mannered. Maybe what's missing is a real sense of the sinister - this film doesn't feel haunted in the way that it should, a hauntedness that should be heightened by the sympathetic portrayal of Dracula himself.

M.I.A. - Arular

I'd been vaguely aware of M.I.A. for a while, but hadn't really been paying attention and had formed the vague impression that I probably wouldn't like her music all that much. The other night, though (between "Pictures of the Floating World" with Myles and Wonderful Days with David), I was browsing in Polyester Records when I realised that the music blaring through the in-store system was really good - one beats-and-vox-driven call to arms after another, each different from the others and collectively pretty different from anything I'd heard before...the end of this story is, of course, that the record being played was Arular, and I was sold.

I didn't buy it straight away, wanting to give myself a chance to: (a) get it cheaper at jb hi-fi; and (b) (and more germanely) see reason and realise that I didn't really need to own the record. Come Monday, though, the music was still in my head, and so I went out and got it (in the process hearing a glowing endorsement of the album by the store attendant who served me) - and, for the time being at least, it's replaced Kathleen Edwards as my repeat-play soundtrack of the moment (I spent all of yesterday (Tuesday) having to ask people to repeat themselves, having - I think - temporarily damaged my hearing in that cause). Put simply, it's fantastic, but it's hard to explain it much beyond that - Arular is an album that really needs to be listened to.

A large part of the appeal is the gleeful way in which so many disparate musical strands are pulled together - or at least touched upon - across the course of the album. The music is basically rooted in hip-hop, and it's pushed forward by some pretty hard beats as much as by M.I.A.'s charismatic vocals, which are usually in a style closer to a sort of scat-rap than actual singing, but there's a lot more than just hip-hop feeding into the mix and the result is an almost 'world-beat'-type record which covers a great deal of ground across its 40-odd minutes. My favourites at the moment are the urgent up-and-down shuffle of "Bingo" and the sleaze and shimmy of "Hombre" (that latter being the one which first caught my ear in Polyester), but each song has its own distinct personality and I expect that I'll go through phases of particularly liking almost all of them in the next few days and further into the future.

Much has been made of the political aspects of M.I.A.'s music, particularly to do with the background of Arulpragasam (London-born child of Sri-Lankan parents with strong links to 'infamous' Tamil Tigers, etc), but while there's attitude to burn, of both the inconsequential ("And could it be that me and he are tighter than R Kelly in his teens?"...unless there's some kind of commentary on the machine which produces pop music as/and commodities in there), and the social/political ("I'm hot now you'll see/I'll fight you just to get peace") varieties, and while the songs still sound thoroughly righteous, and have retained that air of being calls to arms in the transition to repeat bedroom and discman listening, what Arular above all else is, is fun. It's a melting-pot, and it's catchy, and it's brilliant.

Hole - Celebrity Skin

Another of those whose singles got played a lot on triple j at the time when I was listening a lot to triple j, and so coloured by nostalgia, and whether by operation of that nostalgia or on their own merits, those songs, tracks 1, 2, 3 and 4 - "Celebrity Skin", "Awful", "Hit So Hard", "Malibu" - still sound great. ("Awful" is still my favourite of the singles, and I think that it's the best song on the album.) For fuzzed out pop, I'd rather listen to Belly any day, and for arty punk anthems, of course there's Pretty Girls Make Graves and Sleater-Kinney. But Celebrity Skin mines a sort of modern rock seam which occupies the middle ground between those two styles (themselves not exactly diametrically opposed) and generally does it well, though it sometimes drags after the initial flurry.

Donna Lewis - Now In A Minute

"I Love You Always Forever", of course. Why else would I buy this cd? I've always had a large soft spot for the song, with not even any meaningful associations to speak of to explain the fondness - perhaps the explanation lies in the song's extreme sweetness, for I'm not generally one to find twee-ness cloying, at least not when it comes in the form of a near-perfect pop song. The album as a whole, naturally, is unobjectionable but complete vanilla, kinda like Roxette crossed with Julee Cruise on valium.

Wiskey Biscuit - Wiskey Biscuit

I'd heard opening cut "Santa Ana Delta Blues" before, and liked it, but it misled me as to what the album would be like. In all, this is a kind of retro-sounding rock record, but apart from the brilliance of the aforementioned swampy stomp of its opener, there is, variously, Weezer-esque power-pop ("Mom Song"), "Sunday Morning"-vibing indie ("Stonergirl"), psych/prog noodling ("Hidin' In My Kitchen"), 'no depression'-styled country-rock ("Trailerpark Sweetheart"...well, the title's a bit of a giveaway, I s'pose, but the song itself is one of the better moments on the record) and plenty else into the bag, too, including various none-too-exciting takes on the blues-rock thing. It's not that this is a bad album, exactly, but I expected it to be much bluesier and much more fun.

Wonderful Days

Another anime (though Korean, I think), another post-apocalyptic world...to be fair, I ought to note that the animation was pretty spectacular, and some of the imagery effective (the early shot of the struts supporting a part of the city-structure, resembling the fossils of some giant extinct beast, was a good one, for example); however, while the story and characterisations weren't particularly poor, they were on the generic side, and there wasn't quite enough there in the visual/visceral stakes to carry me past caring about that lack (though it got close when Shua's glider and the insurrectionists' truck were converging along their respective paths in the closing stages)...the extended cut-out sequences were interesting (I think there were two, or maybe three - the only one I can bring to mind now is that of the dancer against the hallucinogenic backdrops) but rather pointless, I thought. All of that said, I didn't notice my attention flagging at any stage, which suggests that Wonderful Days largely gets the job done.

Pictures of the Floating World @ NGV International

Quite liked this. There's a real combination of vividness and subtlety to these woodblock prints, and the colours are really gorgeous, especially the blues (that latter being a funny way to respond to an exhibition, but it was a strong impression). I also liked the way in which some very fine detailing work often appeared in pieces whose outer edges were rendered in simple outline sketches - suggestive of that idea of the 'floating world'. My favourites were the landscapes (including the examples from the famous 'Views of Mt Fuji' series), probably because they were the ones which best embodied that basic interplay of boldness and delicacy, but it was interesting to learn about the celebrity culture of 17th-19th century Tokyo (Edo), in relation to both kabuki actors and courtesans - one cabinet housed a book of renditions of particular kabuki actors which had been collected swap-card style - even though I wasn't as drawn to the portrait-style prints.

Rob Roy

For some reason, this film didn't grab me. I saw it a long time ago - long enough ago that I couldn't remember anything about it before watching it again this time around - but had retained the impression that it was very good. But, this time round, it just didn't excite me and I can't figure out why. I have a suspicion that the direction may have been a bit pedestrian - maybe that's it...and perhaps it wasn't dramatic enough (there was plenty of drama, but maybe it didn't feel dramatic enough). Or maybe I just watched it in the wrong frame of mind. Anyway, unquestionable highlights: Tim Roth's film-stealing turn as a vicious, deadly swordsman of a fop, and the climactic swordfight.

Garth Ennis/Steve Dillon - Preacher: Dixie Fried

Another one, and largely more of the same (back to the main story of Jesse, Tulip and Cassidy's search for God, with the Grail, the Saint of Killers, and diverse supernatural beings lurking in the background). Psychological complexity gets upped a notch, though, and (not à propos) boasts the funniest panels yet in a Preacher comic in Starr's trying on of the wigs and hats.

Garth Ennis/Steve Pugh/Carlos Ezquerra/Richard Case - Preacher: Ancient History

Back-stories for the Saint of Killers (good - a real dark Western myth) and "you-know-who" (ie, 'Arseface'; very much on the dull side), and an episode from the past involving Jody, T.C., and a pair of cliche action movie heroes (a send-up, obviously, and a rather fey one - odd to see such direct satire in a Preacher comic). Not up to the standard of the series proper (Jesse etc don't appear, although the Devil does), but still compelling enough.

Kathleen Edwards - Back To Me

Definitely a cut above the standard singer-songwriter fare - very, very nice chiming jangly yearnful (to coin a phrase) country-infused electric guitar-based rock. The music is vibrant, warm, a little bit melancholy; hooks are plentiful and sometimes completely irresistible (the gorgeous uplift of the bridging line "don't say that you'll change" in "In State", the transition into the chorus of "Old Time Sake", the whole chorus of "Summerlong"...). The songwriting is consistently good, and sometimes much better than just good - like Caitlin Cary, say, Edwards has the knack of writing songs, both mid-tempo/more upbeat rockers and pretty ballads, which feel all summery and golden and mildly swoony and which carry you along from start to finish. Her voice, too, is fantastic, silvery-raspy and sweet: she sings with a Lucinda-esque combination of swagger and ache, and her songwriting owes something to that latter as well, especially tracks like "Independent Thief" and "Summerlong"; at times, too, a bit of Chan Marshall huskiness comes through to good effect...bring it on.

Heartland: An Appalachian Anthology

A collection of music created by a disparate group of musicians over a series of albums, this set effects a melding of a number of musical styles, most notably 'classical' chamber music, bluegrass, and Irish folk, to produce a whole which is subtle, stirring and really, really good. It's basically instrumental (though James Taylor guests on the traditional song "Johnny Has Gone For A Soldier" and Alison Krauss lends vocals to another); a lot of the tracks are violin-driven (violin/fiddle played by Joshua Bell or Mark O'Connor), but cello (Yo-Yo Ma), bass (Edgar Meyer), banjo (Béla Fleck), mandolin, guitar, and other instruments (including, poignantly, the pennywhistle) are a vital part of the mix.

The result is a wonderful synthesis which is neither 'classical' nor 'popular' nor 'roots' but meaningfully partakes of all three streams, and others besides - it's unashamedly melody-driven at times, and quite tone-based and abstract at others, sprightly and mournful by turns, but it's never less than captivating. In some ways, the title of the set is misleading, for bluegrass - the 'appalachian' musical style - is less prominent than either the Celtic-styled folk (with which I'm primarily familiar through the recorded output of acts like My Friend The Chocolate Cake and various incidental film scores, rather than with traditional sources) which most directly shapes the songs' melodies or the 'classical' instrumentation and leanings which frame the music. But above and beyond that, the music does have a distinctly americana feel to it, seeming to 'fit' very well with the whole mythos. It's a bit beyond words - well, my words, at least - to explain why or how this is so good beyond the way it makes me feel, and the sorts of images it summons...

Tom Stoppard - Lord Malquist & Mr Moon

I always intend to read some Stoppard beyond Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead, and had thought that his output was restricted to plays. Turns out, though, that he wrote at least one novel, and it's a slightly deranged pleasure. The events it portrays are pretty surreal, and the deadpan, matter-of-fact way in which it's written increases the reader's uneasy, vaguely inexplicable feeling that things aren't quite lined up as they should be. Reminded me of Iris Murdoch's novels - wordily droll and lightly but substantially philosophical in the same breath, and touched by a sense of oddness and absurdity (not to mention written in the sixties).

The process by which I came to read Lord Malquist & Mr Moon was as follows: I took the book from the shelf (in the library), opened it randomly, and my eye fell upon the line "So you carry this bomb about with you expressly for the purpose of throwing it at someone?". After that, it was a foregone conclusion that I'd take the book home to read.

Happily, that chance phrase turned out to be not unrepresentative of the book as a whole - it's Moon who carries the bomb around with him all the time, with the vague but over-analysed thought that its detonation might serve as some kind of Statement about the state of the world, but his interactions with his wife Jane, Lord Malquist, Lady Malquist, the two cowboys competing for the love of Moon's wife, the 'Risen Christ' (complete with donkey), Marie the French maid (unfortunately deceased), the General her 'admirer' (also unfortunately deceased), Mr and Mrs Cuttle the anarchists (the latter also unfortunately deceased), O'Hara the black (Irish) coachman, and of course Rollo the lion (plus one unfortunate flamingo), provide just as much joy as Moon's inner musings.

There's a real philosophical heft to the novel, too - grappling with society and the place of the alienated individual within it, and particularly with that universal condition of absurdity (overtones of French existentialism). But it does so in a way which is unfailingly unintrusive, and grounded in a recognisably real (if distorted) setting, so that the overall effect is something like a completely mental version of chinese water torture - drip, drip, drip - except, of course, less torturous. I suppose I mean that the novel itself is philosophical (and specifically existential, in at least some sense) rather than merely being about philosophy or existentialism. It really is.

Escape From New York

Huzzah for midnight movies (huzzah = hooray for people who are too cool to say 'hooray', duh). Actually, this film was obviously bad, but fun to watch anyway in a way which has something to do with its badness but also something to do with the bits of it that were actually quite good (most notably the look of the film - the blasted, post-apocalyptic NYC was rather well done). Kurt Russell and Lee van Cleef heaps of fun. But really, could only ever have even slightly worked as a midnight viewing.

Amélie Nothomb - The Stranger Next Door

Didn't enjoy this as much as I have Nothomb's others. While I appreciated both its blend of lightness and weight, and its nonchalant perversity, and was pleased by the numerous unexpected right turns it takes, I didn't get much out of the book. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was reading it in the wrong way, but the simple fact is that I didn't much like this one (possibly, now that I come to think about it, because the narrator, Emile, is himself so unlikeable).

The Rough Guide To Bluegrass

Another genre compilation, featuring both contemporary and older artists...much banjo, mandolin, and twangy singing. It's interesting to hear all of these songs alongside each other - makes me realise that there's often not a great deal of difference between 'bluegrass' recorded thirty or forty years ago and today. I'm not sure how far I need to go into this music, though (looking beyond this particular disc) - although it's very easy to listen to as background, I often don't find the songs to be especially rewarding on close listening, and have a feeling that I'm not likely to get into bluegrass in a big way at this point in my life, beyond maybe a handful of relatively modern acts working at the margins of the genre. Maybe the truth is that unless it's sad it doesn't speak to me.

American Beauty

The summer between high school and university was a charmed period for me, all too brief but it seemed to stretch out forever. Really, it's not surprising that, when I look back, that time should seem rather indistinct and ungraspable - a fuzzy gold-tinged haze of dreams and potential. I miss those days...but I digress. One detail that I do recall is that I saw some great films over that summer: Being John Malkovich, Fight Club - and American Beauty.

I've since revisited those first two on the small screen, and in each case was severely disappointed, for they didn't seem anywhere near as good as I'd recollected (although neither of these subsequent viewings was at all under ideal circumstances), which may, on some level, have been part of the reason why I never got round to watching American Beauty again - I didn't expect to enjoy it another time around. A little while ago, though, the idea lodged in my head that it would be a good film with which to renew my acquaintance (pre-Ghost World, incidentally - it wasn't Thora Birch-inspired), and having just done that, it feels as if the film never went away, for American Beauty is still wonderful.

It's excruciating in places...the scene early in the film in which Carolyn, her back against the drawn blinds, dissolves into tears and then shrieks at herself in disgust was harrowing enough to have seared itself into my store of cultural reference points all those years ago, and it still makes me cringe, but the passing of time had caused me to forget how many other scenes in the film are just literally unbearable to watch - how painful and embarrassing they are. But it's all done in such a deadpan way - it's a small miracle that everything looks so flat (all the better to highlight the daubs of red which colour the sets from time to time) and yet feels so personal. And, yes, the beauty (such as it is) touched me...we're all looking for something, I suppose, and I'm not sure if I'm much closer now than I was five years ago. I may still be too young to really 'heart' a work like this (films like Ghost World and Lost In Translation feel a lot more personal to me), but it's still reached me, then and now, and it won't go away.

Terry Pratchett - The Last Hero

A Pratchett that I hadn't read before, and in a handsome volume, too (generously illustrated by Paul Kidby). Probably because it's a bit on the short side, and the episodes are usually only a few paragraphs in length, it struck me as slightly lacking in inspiration (also, characters like Vetinari, Ponder Stibbons, Rincewind, etc, seemed to just be going through the motions - or rather, Pratchett did in writing their roles in this book)...although of course I just completely take for granted how good Pratchett books are, so that seeming lack probably doesn't mean that much. Particularly enjoyed the scene when Evil Harry and his stupid henchmen appeared, and got a fair few laughs out of the book from thereon in.

Kill Your Idols edited by Jim DeRogatis and Carmél Carrillo

A cute premise - rock critics tackling canonical albums which they hate, and tearing into them. There are 34, and the only one which I really love is OK Computer, though many others which I like, or at least have liked in the past, are the subjects of essays - The Joshua Tree, Blood On The Tracks, Dark Side Of The Moon (of course), Nevermind...The quality of the pieces is very variable, though I often found it difficult to put my finger on what was wrong, or right, with any given one - Jim DeRogatis' shellacking of Sgt Pepper's, for example, seemed to have all the elements but was just turgid.

For mine, Allison Augustyn is spot on in criticising YHF on the basis that it's, uh, boring, and Fred Mills hits a lot of nails on the head with his dissection of Harvest, especially in complaining about the jarring track sequencing, but also about the fact that it's just generally not that good. Jim Testa's tearing apart of Never Mind the Bollocks was also very effective, even though I occasionally convince myself that I actually enjoy listening to the album. And the damning-by-faint-praise of the Doors' Best Of done by DeRogatis and Lorraine Ali articulated a lot of thoughts I've had about that band in the past.

Most of the pieces are relatively restrained despite their determinedly counter-cultural posings (though the Fleetwood Mac murder fantasy induced by Rumours, which I've not listened to, was a bit off), often dissing the record but expressing respect for the artist; the striking exception is Chrissie Dickinson's vicious take on the double-album cd set GP/Grievous Angel, administering a good kicking to Parsons himself along the way. David Menconi, who writes aforementioned criticism of OK Computer, obviously misses the point of the album (for chrissake, he considers "Electioneering" to be its best song)...and so on.

I've listened to most of these, though a few have got past me (and I was flummoxed to see Paul & Linda McCartney's Ram given the treatment...what on earth is "Ram", and since when was it a supposedly 'classic' album?). Each of the writers also put in a list of their top 10 favourite albums, and I was fascinated to see Lucinda Williams in no less than three of the lists (and namechecked in one or two of the other writers' actual contributions).