One glorious bastard

As Nice Guy Eddie so eloquently put it, 'first things f**king last'; I am going to spell it right, I'm afraid. Firstly (the admittedly pretenious reason), this is because as an erswtwhile education professional, I just can't knowingly and deliberately misspell it, having too much love, awe and fear of the English language for that. Secondly (the 'just because I'm odd' reason), 'bastard' is just a lovely word, full of hard angles and taking no nonsense, and putting an 'e' at the end emasculates it unforgiveably, mangling its sound and making it just herd; it may not be right up there with my all-time favourite words (like 'rumble' and 'squirt') but it has its unquestionable charm.

Anyway, we'll get to that film in a while, but first let me say that my all time trinity of unholy movies is 'The untouchables', 'The usual suspects' and 'Reservoir dogs', probably in that order. 'Dogs' blew me away (and most of its cast, which reminds me of a joke: where did the film 'Castaway' gets its name? because they just kept Tom Hanks and threw the rest of the castaway). It was one of those rare movies (basically along with the other two named above) which I saw on my own and then brought a succession of other people to see over the next few weeks, usually just to shut me up. It was so different and utterly cool, and mixed violence, music, great dialogue and humour in a way I had never seen before. The trailer below actually captures its essence nicely, if there is anyone out there who has not seen it yet (shame on you if so):

I really loved that film and it made the kind of impact very few films have. I bought the soundtrack, the screenplay, and almost all DVD versions; I know the dialogue mostly by heart (the critical evidence: 'Let's go to work' featured in both the introduction to my doctoral thesis and my wedding speech). This movie matters to me, seriously.

After that (the film, not the thesis or the wedding), it went progressively downhill for me. 'Pulp fiction' was no doubt good, in fact very very good, but I never rated it higher than 'dogs', except maybe for Jules, who was the best thing in it and possible Quentin's finest creation. I found 'Jackie Brown' a bit drawn out, frankly, and neither 'Kill Bill' (both seen in cinema) did much for me; I lost interest in 'Death proof' around half way through when watching it on Sky, and never went back to it. I believed (as did many) that the self-indulgence and pop-cultural obsessions has gotten the upper hand and that the hard-boiled thrillermaker of 'Dogs' was 'dead as Dillinger' (thanks Joe).

So, reading the early (Cannes-era) mixed reviews of 'Inglorious Bastards' (see, Quinten, I refuse to play your game!) didn't fill me with enthusiasm, but I still went along a few nights ago to see it, not expecting a lot, and I got more than I was expecting, basically. It is obviously no 'Dogs', and 'Pulp Fiction' is a lot better overall, but those are high benchmarks, and it absolutely cuts the ears off the others and sings softly into them before tossing them casually aside.

Now, I did recently read Beevor's 'D-day', so I do know for a fact that it is not completely historically accurate (I don't even know where to start on that one!), but that is not the point, although some subjects are probably a little sacred to be screwing around with too lightly (the true significance, the fundamentally unreducable horror, behind what Nazis like Landa are doing is never really acknowledged). However, if it is possible to reluctantly put this aside, leaving aside the question of whether one can or should, the film just works as great fantasy entertainment.

Nonetheless, it was far less fantastic than I was expecting, stylistically for example, than the 'Kills Bills', and had a certain (theatrical) historical quality which suited the subject era. The thrillery bits were appropriately thrilling (especially the tension of the opening), the linguistic gymnastics were at least different (and I liked the way the subtitles sometimes went wonky, translating 'merci' as 'merci' several times), and the acting ranged from the very good (mostly the Europeans) to the thoroughly enjoyable (I believe this is my favourite Brad Pitt performance ever, and his attempt at Italian in the cinema was a classic). I also must admit that I watched Pitt's final effort at preplastic surgery through my fingers; the difference to Dogs' scene where the camera tracked away from the ear-removal was notable, as Quentin has grown over the years to embrace his inner sadist fully.

Anyway, to lead into the inevitable clips, I offer firstly a glimpse of the aforementioned opening scene, showing the excellent Christoph Waltz as Colonel Landa of the SS (too many critics have praised this great performance to leave me anything useful left to contribute bar my complete agreement):

and, secondly, a trailer with appropriately European subtitles:

Yes, I have read all the reviews, and yes I know and understand what is wrong with it, and I am not sure if I will watch it half as often as 'Dogs' (although I know I do want to see it again), but it entertained, and amused, and thrilled, and was different but in a good way, and I don't need much more from Quentin; that is what he is good at, and we should expect no more than for him to do it as well as he can. For the serious movies, we have different guys who will do it much better than he can.

Its just that, for a while there he seemed to lose his way, and walked the earth like Caine from 'Kung fu', having adventures which were not always succesful (for, as we all know, the path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and he tyranny of evil men), and talking increasing amounts of self-absorbed egotistical immature shite in interviews. Now, though, even if briefly, he seems to have found his path anew, just like Jules, and, once again, he is his own glorious bastard. Click Here to Read More..

A hidden nest of Jayhawks

Give or take, I have 10,000 songs on my PC, which I think is a reasonably sized music collection. I can't claim to love or even know all of them, but I have stretched my quest for music quite far, if within admittedly relatively narrow constraints.

However, in the cold dark moments, I know that this is just a pathetic drop in the musical ocean of recorded work; even allowing for the fact that I know I would not love much of the other music out there (most electronica, classical, most rap, most dance, anything that came from a reality programme...I could go on and on) I accept that there is probably music that I would love which I just have not yet found, and this does trouble me. Its not exactly the kind of existential crisis which wakes me screaming in the middle of the night, but it does bother me nonetheless.

I survey the vast gulfs of unexplored musical waters (almost everything before 1985, for example) and draw back from the edge, afraid that, if I started, I would not know how to stop. Nonetheless, there is an eerie feeling, partly exciting, partly scary, that comes from standing in a huge record shop, looking around and knowing that somewhere there on the racks could lie the best album I have ever ever heard, one which could change my life, except that I just don't know it's there.

Of course, the whole dynamic by which I and everyone else encounters and acquires music has changed, and the days of standing in very large record shops and feeling this wierd thrill are almost gone; I still remember being in record shops in London, L.A. or Paris and feeling almost dizzy at the fact that the selection would be different to that I could find at home, even if I would only be looking for stuff I couldn't find by artists I already knew.

Now, to find this huge range of options, I don't need to leave Cork; in fact, I don;t even have to leave the house. I can just log on to iTunes or any CD seller on-line, and access that vast vast range, and it is simultaneously even more thrilling and even more scary. TOO MUCH CHOICE. That is why I need guides, like magazine reviews (especially Uncut's), or recommendations on eMusic or whatever, to try and help point me in the right direction, and navigate me safely through the huge expanse of music available to me, like a musical GPS.

Eventually, my point, tortuously reached, is that I have just discovered the Jayhawks (because of positive reviews of 'Music from North Country', their new anthology) and I really really need to know why no-one told me about them before, considering most of the songs are over 10 years old, and I have been around that long. What vast right-wing conspiracy concealed them from me?

Their music is just gorgeous, perhaps a little on the safe and 'nice' side (like an alt-country Prefab Sprout or Martin Stephenson and the Daintees), but just basically a whole lot of loveliness wrapped in great harmonies and great melodies and instrumentation. The band had two songwriters (Mark Olson and Gary Louris), but Olson left in 1997; for more biographical details, the Allmusic guide page is here.

Thus, I will basically end this text with a gratuitous bunch of Jayhawks' videos (there has been more than enough blathering on already), starting with the beautiful 'Angelyne', which is unfortunately missing the start. Just marvel at how the harmonies intertwine at the chorus!

The next one is 'All the right reasons', which in this clip is Louris with Chris Stills, and is from 2008; again, what a beautiful chorus and lyrics.

The third clip is a TV performance, introduced by a spookily young looking Jon Stewart, of 'Blue', yet another in their seemingly endless supply of almost ridiculously lovely (I am seriously running out of adjectives here) songs.....

I will end with two of their slightly faster and louder songs; let's face, it, they are never going to be Pearl Jam (who I am listening too a lot also these days, and will be the basis of their own post soon), but it does show a different side of them:

That one was called 'I'd run away', and the next one is 'Tailspin'; the latter in particularly reminiscent to me of bands like Buffalo Tom:

I have just downloaded their companion comppilation of rarities, live bits, demos and b-sides (also called 'Music from the North Country, but sold separately on iTunes) and am very much looking forward to more catching up on lost time with their music.

This while 'missing out on great music' is certainly a real phenomenon and somewhat worrying; on the bright side, it does make the thrill of discovery all the more exciting, like suddenly unlocking a door into new and unexplored places.

Click Here to Read More..

Public enemies - book versus film?

I had bloody high hopes for 'Public enemies'; I had it built up into a cross between 'The untouchables' (the era, the suits, the guns) and 'Heat' (Michael Mann, bank robberies, guns, the good cop-bad robber duality, the technical excellence of the film-making), and such reference points raised my excitement levels to near dangerous values; I also like, if not exactly love, Depp and Bale. However, three weeks after seeing it, I am shocked to find that I actually remember very little about it, bar a general memory of it being good but not great, some confusion over telling which of the minor characters were which, and complete confusion about how Dillinger got away from the car in the field after the Little Bohemia shootout.

However, recently, the day before going to France on holidays, I was faced with a brief crisis as to whether Anthony Beevor's D-day (no irony intended, except maybe a tiny bit) in hardback was in every sense too heavy for the beach, and I impetuously bought Bryan Burroughs book 'Public enemies', on part of which (the Dillinger bit) the film was based.

Before book and movie, I knew little about Dillinger except some great quotes like the fact that he robbed banks was because that was where the money was. The movie filled in some more, and then the book showed that what it showed was a tiny shapshot of a huge canvas, like looking at the roof of the Sistine Chapel through a periscope; not only that, the bits that made it into the movie generally sloughed off their historical accuracy on being prised free of the page.

In his introduction, the author basically won me over irrevocably by saying he hoped the reader would derive as much pleasure from reading the book as he had from writing it, which I loved, and I certainly have proven him right. It is a hell of a tale, covering a whole cast of low-lives such as Machinegun Kelly, Baby Face Nelson, Pretty Boy Floyd, Bonnie and Clyde, Ma Barker and Dillinger himself. These guys all knew each other, and their reign of crime lasted less than two years (1933-1934) and criss-crossed the US and each other, which the fledgling FBI tried, frequently ineptly, to catch up. While the War on Crime was the making of the modern FBI, the genesis was pretty rough and amateur, and Melvin Purvis in the book is a lot less impressive than his filmic counterpart. With all the ambushes, killings on all sides, double-crosses, snitches, gritty (apparently authentic) dialogue and cast of colourful scumbags, it would be hard not to make an exciting story out of it, and Burroughs is a skilled story-teller who rises to and then far surpasses that bar. He has the ability to turn from lyrical descriptive prose to short hard-boiled declarative sentences as the story turns to suit the mood which adds a cinematic feel to the writing, the changes in style of writing acting as an analogy to changes in tempo of music to add emotional cues to a film.

In fact, the scenes in the book feel a lot grimier and dirtier, even bloodier (the descriptions of the aftermaths of gunfights, and crude plastic surgeries including fingerprint 'removal' are fairly graphic), and a lot more chaotic and less glamorous than the film, perhaps inevitably; one cannot help but wonder if a broader canvas would not have helped the movie, but this perhaps would have needed a much longer movie (or several, or a mini-series like Band of Brothers). In fact, I cannot help but wonder if Mann and his screenwriters picked out perhaps the least exciting threads of the book for their movie. Much has been made by critics (including my guru Mark Kermode) of the use of digital cameras for the film, and perhaps there was indeed something technically impressive but aesthetically sterile resulting from this that just did not suit the subject matter.

The book also includes several poignant and emotional scenes; strangely (I suppose), these to me belong to the characters from the wrong side of the cast of thousands. One involves Bonny (of ..and Clyde) talking to her mother about her impending violent death and asking her saying 'Bring me home when I die It's been so long since I was home I want to lie in the front room with you..sitting beside me. A long, cool, peaceful night together before I leave you. That will be nice and restful'. Goose-bumps for me, not sure about you, even if she was a deluded psycho-killer. Another involves Alvin Karpis, allegedly the brightest of the era's criminals, being released after a long stretch in Alcatraz and going to live in Torremolinos in Spain, where no-one would believe he was once a tough guy who knew Capone, Dillinger and Manson, and who eventually died of an (accidental?) overdose of sleeping pills; I keep picturing Ray Winstone in 'Sexy beast, for some reason, but with long years of (possibly) regret and incarcerated loneliness a far scarier monster than Ben Kingsley.

I found an interesting old newsreel clip on Youtube of the real characters as below:

As another thought, on reading the book and seeing how the FBI's 'War on crime' was marked by initial gross ineptitude and inexperience, with success only coming through increasing suspension of civil liberties, use of snatches of suspects on dodgy grounds, summary executions, and increasing levels of violence and torture, one can only reflect that a much more recent entry in the series of 'Wars on....' was not digging up new tactics after all, the enemy was just closer to home.

Anyway, I am actually interested to see the movie again now, to compare with the book; I know some parts where the real story was changed will annoy me, but knowing the depth of backstory will add a lot to it for me. However, I cannot help but conclude that this was a much better book than film, and urge anyone who found the latter even slightly interesting to immediately seek out and devour the former. Click Here to Read More..

A note on John Hughes

When I heard that John Hughes had died recently I did not take too much notice at first, remembering him mainly for some pretty basic kids' comedies a long time ago. However, a few of the tributes (including the home page on the Internet Movie Database) caught my eye and I realised that Highes did after all play a role, if relatively minor, in my cultural coming-of-age in the 1980s (clearly, as any reader of this blog will know, my formative years).

Some examples follow. Probably the biggest rite of passage for me, as for many others, was going to university, and I remember spending the afternoon before I started as a fresher, being well-aware of a sense of the end of one era and the start of another, at 'Pretty in Pink' in the Adelphi cinema (now long gone) in Dublin's city centre. Now that was not a great movie by any standards, and I do not think it would stand the test of time even if viewed now through a lens heavily blurred by nostalgia, but other Hughes movies would have more lasting value. 'Ferris Bueller's day off' was certainly a very funny if now very dated film, which was probably his high point, and must remain a teenage classic for the 1980s, while Hughes moved to more mature (at least chronologically) characters for 'Planes, trains and automobiles', which included a classic scene of male awkwardness which is very true to life, and which has since been much adapted for different circumstances in my life, as seen below:

Another thing Hughes did very well was selecting soundtracks for his movies, including the best song of Simple Minds' career in 'Don't you forget about me' for 'The breakfast club' (better than 'Pretty in pink' but not as good as the other two mentioned), as seen below:

Finally, as this morphs from a movie post into a music one, the best thing I will ever associate with John Hughes' movies was of course the title track for 'Pretty in pink', by the Psychedelic Furs, certainly one of my favourite 1980s' songs of all, shown in a very contemporary 'Top of the pops' performance below:

Even more finally, bringing the story right up to date, I really like (predictably) the National's cover version of the same song from a Daytrotter session, which can be heard here. So, to sum up, John Hughes was undeniably a part of the 1980s, and as I acted as a sort of cultural sponge during that decade, I soaked up some of his influence, and will take this opportunity to acknowledge that, and mark his passing.

Click Here to Read More..

Mick Flannery concert review

It's official: he is wonderful


First, a digression! Some years ago, I was stunned to see in a local pizzeria a poster for a gig by Mark Eitzel (of American Music Club, who I love) playing in a pub right across the road from where I was living at the time. I remember thinking that it was the exact opposite of the old line about 'well, I wouldn't cross the road to see them....'. I had gone to Dublin to see AMC before, and it seemed he was returning the courtesy by paying me what was almost a personal visit.

This month, I was similarly gratefully surprised and impressed when a pub near where I live now, Treacy's of Ballincollig (Co. Cork), which has established a new folk club, announced it was to host Mick Flannery on 11 August and, while the tickets for that sold out quickly, we got tickets for the extra gig added, due to the demand, on the 10th.

The room used for gigs holds only 100 people, so this was certainly an intimate experience, with no-one more than 50 feet from the band in a sort of L-shaped arrangement. The 'support' was as good as I could hope - the National's 'Alligator' and 'Boxer' being played before Mick and his band came on stage and during the break he gave mid-show!

And, as for the show itself, well I think I have finally surrendered any lingering doubts I may have had about him; he is without doubt an incredible performer, song-writer and musician, and surely one of Ireland's greatest musical treasures, who deserves to be known and loved far beyond these shores.

Live, he has an almost OTT nervousness and self-deprecation (tonight's gig featured several references to the misery he was inflicting on us, including finishing by saying 'now ye can go back to being happy people', and he also admitted that he hadn't much of a stage presence), but when he plays he gets lost in the music, and that voice and playing take over and it is magical.

He started with a lovely 'Safety rope' from 'White lies' before spending most of the first half of his set playing songs from his debut 'Evening train'. For the first time that I have seen, he explained the 'concept' behind the album, about two brothers and the girl who came between them, and the whole thing made so much more sense as a cohesive tale, adding immensely to the power of the songs; there are very few artists doing this sort of thing today, and the idea that he did this for his debut while still in his early 20s may explain why he won an American song-writing prize very early in his career.

Back to the gig, he did a gorgeous guitar-led version of 'California', the lyrics of which I love for their spot-on conjuring of a man lost in a relationship which has gone far beyond his depth ('Lady, come into my room/I pretend I'm sleeping/Half an eye on you./Slow, you take off your clothes,/You knew I was watching,/Said 'How'd ya like the show',/Then I told ya I loved ya and you said/'Yeah I know'/And I thought I could die/Before I'd ever let go'.). And then, shortly after the break, after a mumbled apology for probably f**king it up, he played the most perfect version of Tom Waits' 'Martha', a song I love so much we named our daughter after it, and I finally surrendered to the greatness of the man (Mick that is, Tom's was never much in doubt).

In terms of clips, the room was very dark and my (usually) trusty N95 struggled with both the light and an unexpectedly low battery, which gave up before the break (so no footage of 'Martha', terribly sad to say). However, I did get 'The gutter' below (and, yes, even in poor light, it is on its side, being filmed in portrait, and not being able to work out how to rotate the clip - enjoy the sound anyway!):

He played three new songs on the night, all beautiful, including one called (I think) 'Cut me close' and the one below:

As a final sign of my conversion to true believer, I want to point out that Mick's albums can be downloaded on iTunes, Amazon.com (here and here) or Amazon.co.uk (here). He is on the Allmusic Guide here, his Wikipedia entry is here, his Myspace page is here, and his homepage is here. I can do no more for ye - go and find him now!

Click Here to Read More..

Mick Flannery gig review preview

Just got back from a Mick Flannery concert in my local pub, Treacy's in Ballincollig, Co. Cork and it was absolutely brilliant (much more enthusiastic detail to follow). The full review with clips will follow in a few days (probably the weekend) when I get a chance to upload the clips and write the review.

Just to whet the appetite, I found this clip of a concert of his in Cork's Opera House in 2006, playing 'When I've got a dollar':



And, to further whet the pre-whetted, a clip of him and Lisa Hannigan playing 'Christmas past', which he didn't do tonight:



Full review of tonight's gig will follow soon! Click Here to Read More..

High marks on the Gray-scale

I honestly did not have it in mind to do a David Gray post any time in the foreseeable future, as I had never paid all that much attention to him since he became rather famous for a while in the late 1990s; prior to that, I bought his first few albums and had been to see him live in Cork a few times in the early 1990s. My memories of his gigs are vague but I do recall he used to shake his head from side to side quite a lot as he sang, almost so much one would fear it may fall off somewhat disconcertingly mid song.

To be honest, since then, I have had liitle cause to ponder much on him until I read the interview below in the Irish Times Weekend supplement of 8 August.

http://www.irishtimes.com/newspaper/weekend/2009/0808/1224252211919.html

On reading his comment about feeling so much gratitude to the people who went out and bought his CDs, how he knew it was a big deal for them and how he did not want to let them down, my estimation of him rose around 1046576% (and that is a rough estimate). This is exactly how I would imagine I would feel if I were someone who made money from their art (of whatever sort) but have never heard anyone put into words so eloquently, humbly and admirably. This is so far from the kind of rock star arrogance (best exemplified for me by bands like Oasis) that it puts them to shame for once and for all.

I was so impresses I had to log a quick post on the subject to say well done and admit that I have a whole new appreciation of Mr Gray. Imagine my further pleasant surprise when I went looking (as Yousual) on Youtube for a clip to accompany the post (as is my wont) and found the following highly likeable cover version of the Cure's 'Friday I'm in love':

I think the David Gray reassessment exercise will be rather dramatic from here on in. I also found a nice audio (no video) clip of him covering another of my long-ago favourites, in Soft Cell's
'Say Hello, Wave Goodbye' here.

To finish up, my favourite of his own songs comes from his debut, 'A century ends', and is 'Shine', as seen live here:

As a final note for tonight, I have started a new experiment, putting short posts on Twitter (see right-hand column), which I will use for quick thoughts and short reviews or comments on books, movies, CDs or anything else, and hope to update as many days as I remember and get time. So far, I haven't much of a clue of what I am doing but that just adds to the fun of it! Click Here to Read More..

More Joshing around

Josh Ritter has shown great interest in rummaging through his own back catalogue for some time, with several live albums and acoustic special editions of his first studio albums, and t strikes me as strange that he has yet to revisit the obvious starting point of hid eponymous debut.

I first saw him live in the late lamented Lobby bar venue in Cork, where many US musicians crowded onto a tiny stage in a room that held 200 maximum and was defiantly for listening gigs – silence and attention were demanded when an act was on stage; I think the record for maximum number crowded onto the tiny stage was for Willard Grant Conspiracy, at around 190 band members! Anyway, Josh had just released 'Me and Jiggs', which I had heard, and so I went to the gig and it was clear he had a Cork fan club already, with a general air of adoration afoot which was quite unique/ Anyway, the gig was good and I bought his CD after, in a plain brown card sleeve with his image hastily sketched in the centre.

The album then and now sounds like Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen got mixed up in some giant blender into which someone threw great piles of distilled enthusiasm and essence of joy, to compensate for those gentlemen's lack of demonstrable quantities of either. He plays and sings like he is rooted in his roots but arching to break for the stars, his singing often seeming like he has so many thoughts and words to get out that they can't fit out his mouth properly, and collapse out in a mad rush of jumbled but consistently charming images and melodies.

Some tracks are as pretty as anything he wrote later ('Beautiful night', 'Potter's wheel') and erudite images and references abound, while his trademark wit is everywhere evident (my favourite line being 'she said she was from Delaware, I said oh it must be gorgeous there'). However, it is the hidden final track which I love most, and which I always called the scientific love song, but is actually (I think) called 'Stuck on you'), which can be seen (and listened carefully to!) here:

I remember hearing that he studied science in university, and it shows in this song's wonderful play on sciency terms and images in something which is so cute it could easily be nauseating, but absolutely isn't. This is probably the only song off his debut which I have heard him play in later gigs, and even then not for a few years. Its spiritual successor is probably 'The temptation of Adam', one of my favourites of his, as below:

However, sticking to his more hard-to-find rarities, particularly those which can be filed under charming, I also love his version of 'Tonight you belong to me' (which I first came across i the Steve Martin film 'The jerk'), which he duets with Erin McKeown (I actually saw her support him once in Cork and they did the duet live) below:

The final clip for now is a new song he played at the Cork Marquee concert recently, called 'the Curse', which seems to continue his occasional fascination with Egypt:

To return to my original point. I have never understood why he seems to have disowned his debut (it is now hard to find and not sold at his gigs); let the campaign to have it reissued start here! Click Here to Read More..