My last post below was about Editors and the way in which thay have gradually won me over from initial enthusiasm to slight suspicion to general adminration over the course of three albums.
I ended the post with reference to some interesting and telling cover versions, of great songs by REM and Prefab Sprout. Since then I somehow came across another cover version, which I would not find a video clip of, but which is of The National's 'Abel', which can be downloaded below.
'Abel' comes from 'Alligator' and is probably one of The National's angriest hours, a loud and pounding growling headache of a song in the chorus of which Matt Berninger does some seldom-heard shouting. I find the song very powerful and have spent quite a few busy days at work with the words 'my mind's come loose inside its shell' echoing round and round my head (yes, I do know how wierd that seems!). Two versions of it can be seen below:
In many ways, I feel it a somewhat inevitable squaring of the circle to find Editors covering the National, different ends of my musical taste turning out to the closely connected other than in my headshell. And how do they do? Of course no-one mortal could get the sound of Bryan Davendorf's drums exactly right, and Tom Smith is perhaps too cool to let rip the way Matt does, but it is certainly a very good version, and well worth a listen.
The Editors have been on my mind and in my ears a lot recently. I bought 'The back room' when first released based on very positive reviews, and my usual attention-grabbing keywords (Joy Division, dark, 1980sish) and, not knowing much about them, I loved it. I still remember the soundtrack to Christmas 2005 being 'Munich' playing semi-continuously in my car (it is, after all, a seasonal classic in waiting). This is still the stand-out track from their debut for me, as seen below on Jools Holland:
Obviously, the album really appealed to me, and while Tom Smith's voice certainly had echoes of Ian Curtis, the overall feel to me was individual enough to carve their own niche. Much of the rest of the album was very good, including 'Bullets', seen below:
I guess my enthusiasm (shallowly, I admit) faded slightly when I saw them on TV (never live), as they did seem that little bit too young and clean-cut to match the music; the term Boy Division did resonate with me. I did like a good bit of their next album 'An end has a start', but not as much as 'The back room', and my favourite track from it was 'When anger shows', which has a wonderful epic sweep to it, and sounds much less like JD:
I honestly would admit it was a decision to make as to whether to go for their new album 'In this light and on this evening' (great poetic title, and very Factory-meets-landspace art cover), but I paid my money to Steve Jobs through iTunes and gave it a chance, and it has certainly been a wise investment (the year is getting progressively better for music, after a slow start). I love the new synthesiser direction, and the new debts, obviously to Depeche Mode but also to OMD, especially the start of 'Bricks and mortars' below, which has a great synth build-up worthy of the best of the 1980s:
Of the other tracks, 'The big exit' keeps lodging in my head, especially the intertwining vocal lines at the end of the album version.
This is certainly their best album to date in my humble opinion. I will finish this piece with a comment on their particular gift for interesting cover versions, including REM's 'Orange crush' (below) which I think I first encountered on a Q magazine CD of cover versions of 1980s tracks some years ago:
However, the key discovery for me in doping research for this piece was a jaw-dropping cover version of the amazing Prefab Sprout song 'Bonny', which is off 'Steve McQueen', one of my top 5 albums ever, and which can be seen in a very unusual visual-audio presentation below:
The person who matched the song to a scene from the wonderful 'Control' (suitable for many many reasons) deserves some kind of reward, and Editors overall win even more respect from me for this wonderful version of an already classic song.
As mentioned at length in my last post, I have been listening to David Berkeley a lot, and one of the tracks I really like from his album 'Strange light' is 'Hurricane', which can be seen here:
For some reason, listening to this made me think of the Bob Dylan song of the same name. I have never (despite trying, if not all that hard, on several occasions) every really warmed to Bob (although I am inclined to give his forthcoming Christmas album a go, on the basis that I give almost every new Christmas album a go, sentimental sap that I am). However, this song is one my favourites of his:
Strangely, I could repeat the above paragraph (except the bit about the Christmas album) about Neil Young, including the spooky fact that my favourite song by him is 'Like a hurricane':
So, to conclude this short post, it seems I have a particular fondness for songs about hurricanes. I did test the theory a little further when I found the Black Kids' song 'Hurricane Jane' in my iTunes library. I downloaded the album on the strength of 'I'm not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance' (reminded me a lot of OMD) and never listened mush - this song is not bad, but somehow would like a little pale in the giant craggy shadows of Bob and Neil, glowering over it like rock's Mount Rushmore, so I will just stop here.
As I have said before, no matter how many albums you get, there is still an essentially infinite ocean of music out there; sometimes, this can fill you with the kind of existential dispair that you can get sometimes when you think about how really really really big the universe actually is, and how bloody small we and our small ball of rapidly rotating wet dirt are. There are undoubetdly all these bands out there you would love, and how you find them can often be part of life's great game of chance.
As a means of helping to introduce you to music you may like but have not randomly tripped over already, one of the great things about compilation albums like 'Ciao my shining star' (the collection of Mark Mulcahy cover versions released last week and which I reviewed in a previous post here) is getting introduced to new artists you have not heard of before.
In the post above, I commented about the cover of 'Love's the only thing that shuts me up' by David Berkeley, and got a very nice e-mail later from his management (one of the unexpected and really cool outcomes of my joining the world of blogging) inviting me to check out more of his stuff, which I did, and I really like tracks like 'Miss maybe' shown below: I like his voice and his style and my initial impressions from the Mark Mulcahy cover were only reinforced by finding tracks like this on Youtube.
I was then kindly sent a link to download his almub 'Strange light' and I have been listening to it all week and I really really like it. It may well in fact become one of my favourites of the year so far. His voice is the best thing; despite annoying me in terms of who it keeps reminding me of (I will get it eventually) it is still very unusual and uuniques and warm and expressive, and the songs he has are somehow familiar yet different. This is not the most different or unusual album I have ever heard, but yet it has a certain lovely feel and warmth. I guess my closest comparison is Bright Eyes (particularly of 'Wide awake it's morning' or 'When the brakeman turns my way' from 'Cassadaga').
One of my favourite tracks from the album is 'Oh lord, please come down', which is the kind of name that instinctively puts me off, but the song is just gorgeous and uplifting. There is a live in-store performance of it below:
My other favourite is 'Wilwaukee road', which has a driving pulse and roll to it which makes it stand out from many of the other tracks, but which I can't find a clip of to show here. One I did find is the first track, 'Hurricane', which can be seen here:
Another track from the same album and show as above is 'High heels and all':
I started this blog in part to try and maybe spout on about my favourite artists to others who may be interested in following up. I love the idea that that can sometimes work in reverse, with artists like David being brought to my attenion instead. I hope this happens more!
His myspace page is here, a Wikipedia article here and all Allmusic Guide section here.
I have written on several occasions on this blog about how there has been no single greater influence on my musical taste in the last decade than 'Uncut' magazine, and how this magazine has completely changed my listening habits, particularly in terms of introducing me to the alt-country scene (as introduced here).
One of my original ideas for this blog was a project where I would explore each track on the seminal 'Sounds of the new west' CD from 1998, and I did the first few tracks in posts here, here, here and here. I have fallen a little behind on this project (4 tracks down, 16 to go!) but fully intend to get back to it, as these tracks and bands still mean a lot to me.
The key legacy of Uncut, actually (as well as all 150 issues which I have), has almost certainly been CDs like this and others, which have fallen into two categories:
1.Taster compilations of mostly new stuff out that month (e.g., unconditionally guaranteed); 2. Thematic compilations
CDs in category 1 have introduced me to more bands than I could even start to list, but a few that spring to mind (defined as bands whose albums I bought as a direct result of hearing them on one of these CDs) are Lift to Experience, Mark Mulcahy, Jim White, Marah, Songdog, The Mendoza Line, Clem Snide, Tom McRae, Slobberbone, Sufjan Stevens and, of course, The National (of which more to follow), and basically every band on 'Sounds of the new west'. These CDs became a trusted and reliable pointer for my musical antennae, accompanied by the high quality reviews in the magazine itself, and were collectively responsible for many hundreds of euros spent on music and many many happy hours of listening. Of course, I did not chase every song on every CD, but few months went by without at least 2 good leads to follow up.
The second category of CD was much more variable overall. There are quite a few Uncut CDs which never came out of the wrapper (usually collections of very old songs which inspired someone like the Rolling Stones); I know if I trust them on the new stuff, I should trust them on the old, but Uncut has always struggled on a fine line between homage to old stuff I know does nothing for me and the urge to reach into the future with bands which seem to me removed from the older stuff by a vast gulf. Other CDs featured sets of cover versions (e.g., Dylan, Springsteen), many recorded specifically for the occasion, and these usually brought a few gems to light. And then there were the stone-cold classic compilations, of which 'Sounds of the new west' stands as not only the best Uncut compilation ever, but also probably the best compilation of any kind I have ever heard for consistency of quality and theme; other good ones included follow-up alt country compilations, and one I remember very fondly called 'Only love can break your heart'.
My main problem (or disappointment) with Uncut in recent years is that the taster CDs have effectively vanished, and thematic CDs adorn the cover most months; I approach the newsagent every first friday of the month in hope of a good compilation, but too often my hopes are cruelly dashed.
However, this month's 'Uncut' (November 2009) is issue (take) 150 and they have taken the occasion to list the top 150 albums of this decade (whatever the f**k it is supposed to be called), and have marked the occasion with a CD containing songs by many of the artists on that list (Ryan Adams, Richmond Fontaine, Lambchop, Bright Eyes, Calexico, Willard Grant Conspiracy, Wilco, and others); that is a pretty impressive list and it is a very very good CD.
Regarding their top 150 list, they state by way of introduction that it was unashamedly a specialist's list, with no concessions to eclecticism or commerce; this has always been the great thing about Uncut, when they could put an album no-one heard of then or since (Sunhouse's wonderful 'Crazy on the weekend', for example) as album of the month.
Thus, delving into the list, I of course was comparing it to my own collection, and found that I owned 6 of the top 10 (Fleet Foxes, Ryan Adams, Arcade Fire, Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, Wilco and the White Stripes), 14 of the top 20 and overall 66 of the top 150. I had expected more correspondance with my tastes, given the massive influence, but I still know that there would not be anything like that level of agreement with an equivalent list in any other music magazine.
In the editorial of the magazine, the editor, Allan Jones, admits that everyone will have at least one album they are amazed was omitted, and for me there is really only one jaw-dropping shock:
I cannot say any more of the amazement and disappointment I felt on this score, and it makes me know that Uncut and I have perhaps just grown too far apart, and that our once close relationship will never be the same again.
Anyway, moving to what they did put high up, I will end this post with a few clips from a selection of their top 10 (+1) CDs of the decade so far:
11 Flaming Lips 'Yoshimi battles the pink robots' As with all Flaming Lips CDs, I did like around half of this a lot, particularly the title track shown below, which I have very fond memories of live in concert in Cork in 2007 (wth a sing-song just like that captured below);
10 Fleet Foxes; again, I liked quite a bit of this album, but can't say I loved it, but 'White winter hymnal' (below) is far and away my favourite (followed by 'Mykonos', which appears not on the album but, appropriately enough, on an Uncut CD):
9 Ryan Adams 'Heartbreaker': Whiskeytown were my first major discovery from an Uncut Album of the Month recommendation, and 'Stranger's Almanac' remains one of my favourite albums. His solo stuff was of course far more variable in quality, but 'Gold' had mostly great songs. I was less impressed by 'Heartbreaker', but 'Oh my sweet Carolina' (below) is gorgeous:
3 Wilco 'A ghost is born'; this is probably my least favourite Wilco album (see my review of their latest eponymous one here) but 'Spiders (Kidsmoke)' is undeniably powerful and quite cool:
Their top album of the decade was The White Stripes' 'White blood cells'. Now, clearly this should have been 'Boxer' but, leaving aside this obvious fact for a moment (and it is a struggle), I have this and several other White Stripes CDs, and none have done that much for me. My favourite is probably 'Elephant', and mostly for the quiet ones ('You've got her in your pocket' is just beautiful). However, I accept that this lack of enthusiasm relates to my aforementioned problem with 'old' music (particularly the blues). In fact, the White Stripes are probably the band that best straddle the two faces of Uncut which point in such seemingly opposite directions. Anyway, I do enjoy the roll and energy of 'Hotel Yorba', so will finish with that:
I imagine I will keep buying Uncut every month because there is always something there for me, and the writing is excellent, but I need more of the direct contributions to my musical education provided by the taster CDs - I am sure I am not the only reader who pines for them!
I got to see 'District 9' this week and thought it was very good, after being as usual partly expecting a disappointment after the hype. It was a good gritty thriller, and moved very interestingly through several moods - the start somehow reminded me an episode of 'the office', but very little of the rest of it did! I liked the lack of pretension in the special effects, which seemed to get away with a lot by not dwelling very closely or clearly on things most of the time. I found the protagonist very watchable and liked the way your conceptions and level of sympathy for him kept switching, and the baddies outdid even those they dragged out for Lethal Weopan 2 (perhaps it is neither fair nor surprising we associate a certain type of accent with cruelty from the movies alone); the chief MNU mercenary had a wonderfully craggy and evil demeanour, and could easily step into the title role of immortal 1980s actioner 'One tough bastard' when they inevitably decide to remake it.
I liked the casual and unshowy nature of what was being shown, and the way the presence of the aliens was taken almost for granted, not only by those in the movie, but by the audience, as they were introduced without the typical fanfare which one would expect a big sci-fi movie to show off their goods with. I also liked the way that I genuinely could not work out as I watched how it was going to end (a game I usually start playing even before I enter the cinema) which is very rare indeed. I did detect the watchful influence of Peter Jackson, particularly in the gorey bits and some of the action sequences, and the obvious nods to 'the fly'. There was also clearly 9and perfectly understandable) an alien influence, particularly 'Alien resurrection' with the labs and experiments and obsessions about controlling the military implications of the visitors abilities and hardware.
My only quibble really is that I simply can't work out why the aliens, who, while initially arriving in a very weakened state, ad certainly rediscovered some aggressive behaviour, did not use those massive bloody weopans and exo-suits themselves either for defence or offence.
To end, I will include the short movie by the director of 'District 9', Neil Blomkamp, 'Alive in Joburg', which starts to tell the story which the full film brings to life:
Quite similar in some ways but very different in most (multiple alien ships, not just one, and totally different looking aliens clearly due to the complete lack of CGI capability). Overall, a very good science fiction movie, and well worth a look.
(p.s. went to Toy Story 3D with my kids today - why did they bother? No discernable improvement due to the 3D to note, no new dimensions to classic shots, but still nice to see it on a big screen, I guess).
Okay, so this is my first book review, so I couldn't be expected to get the hang of it right away, could I? Anyway, I liked Nick Hornby's 'Juliet, naked', quite a bit in fact (considering fiction accounts for around 10% of the many books I have read for the last decade), but basically it has one massive flaw, which is that it is not Nick Hornby's 'High fidelity'. Then again, in its defence, no other book can, and perhaps it is unfair to hold it against the author, but I am cutting to the chase here. I will come back to blather at length about 'High fidelity' a little further down this page, but for now i will try and obey the rules of convention by sticking even temporarily to the book this post is supposed to be about.
'Juliet, Naked' is about a man, Duncan, who obsesses with academic precision and research about a singer-wongwriter, Tucker Crowe, who last released an album, 'Juliet', in 1984, before disappearing from the music scene completely. Ducan shares his obsession with a small but dedicatedly-odd fellow-Crowologists on-line, and the novel begins with him on a tour of Crowe-related landmarks in the US. By his side, mostly, is his weary partner Annie, who is tiring of a life which seems to have been fittered away with Duncan in the dreary seaside town of Gooleness (how can a name sound simultaneously so close and so far from 'coolness'?). Then an early copy of a CD of a new, unplugged (naked!) version of 'Juliet' arrives by post, and Annie and Duncan disagree vehemently about its quality (it appears to be the straw that will finally break this particular camel's back), and both post reviews on-line. Then Crowe himself, who turns out to be living a relatively ordinary life in the US, while very loosely connected to a diaspora of chldren and ex-wives and partners scattered around two continents, contacts Annie to say he agrees with her review, and a secret correspondence begins. Meanwhile, the increasingly loose shackles holding Annie and Ducan together finally slough off, the cracks in their relationship all joining up almost audibly, and the edifice crumbling away at last. Then, things get a bit soap-opera-ish and Crowe crosses the Atlantic for a reluctant reunion with his scattered family and a final meeting with Annie.
Now, there is no doubt that Hornby can write, understands people and popular culture, and can be very funny. His other books since 'High fidelity' have all been a disappointment to me, and 'Juliet, naked' is a definite improvment, perhaps due to moving closer to the subject he has shown a complete mastery of, in other words the places where music and relationships intersect. However, it felt a little insubstantial, and (a critical flaw) I could not imagine anyone being able to make a good a film of it (where 'High fidelity' so spectacularly succeeded).
Duncan is the best character by a mile, and the nerdishness and pseudoacademic rigour with which he approaches music is well crafted and believable. Annie, presumably the hero, is likeable and adirable but I have a problem with her which is hard to define, but I'm going to try; basically, I can't get a picture of her in my head, I cannot quite benchmark her or work out who would play her in the film (once again, see 'High fidelity' discussion below), which leaves her a bit enigmatic as a character. As for Tucker Crowe, I somehow didn't find him or his familial complexities either engaging or quite credible, and he ends up seeming a bit dull (maybe that's the point?). His music, as well, does not to me seem like it would have fit in 1984, and he seems more like a 1970s creation, except that this would make him now too old for the part he is to play in the book. Also, a lingering problem of mine with Horby is that his dialogue frequently totters on the edge between naturalistic and perceptive, on the one hand, and somehow artificial and unconvincing on the other.
When he talks about music, though, he is one much firmer ground. I love that he talks about music like a fan, not a critic, in untechnical and slighly self-conscious language, as he showed not only in 'High fidelity' (yes, I am getting there) but also in '31 songs', which was about a of songs (can't remember how many exactly) and what they meant to him.
This brings me, finally, to 'High fidelity', which I have no hesitation as describing as one of my top 5 (of course there has to be a list) favourite books of all time, and for which I will always always give Nick Hornby massive credit, and give every new book of his the benefit of the doubt. I vividly remember buying it in Eason's book shop on a work trip to Dublin and basically not being able to do a single other useful thing that day until I had read every word, and I think I started again the next day.
This book simply did (and still does) describe better than anything I had ever read before (or since) the fragile twin states of being (a) male and (b) a music-lover. Every single word it said about relationships rang astonishingly true, for better and for worse, and savage blows of recognition smacked my head every few pages. To have done this (climbing into a certain type of male psyche - self-aware and very much lacking in confidence and bravado - and laying out in plain witty English what lay cowering within) was miracle enough, but to have simultaneously situated the analysis in a world of music and love of music which summarised so much of my life was nothing short of incredible. And, of course, the complex intertwinings of the strands of relationships and music and life are beautifully captured, as in this piece (perhaps my favourite):
"What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music."
The writing is mostly razor-sharp, and the cast of characters is far better and more varied that in any of his other books (and there is much more bile and bite to offest his later trend towards excessive niceness). Perhaps, in reflection, there are some passages that hint of the more melodramatic and unconvincing turns I feel he sometimes later took (the dinner party towards the end with Paul and Miranda never rang true to me, I admit), but it is still a very very important book to me.
When I heard they were transplanting the story to America for the film version, of course I was nervous, but the final film turned out, against my fears (and thanks to Stephen's Frears), to be wonderful and a (mostly) fully fitting adaptation, and one of my top 20 movies of all time. The best thing I guess they did was to take most of the lines directly from the page, and all the book's best lines appear unaltered and proud. The next thing was the casting, with John Cusack a perfect Rob in my mind, and his pseudo-employees, Dick and Barry, perfectly played, particularly Jack Black as the latter. The following clips from Youtube show their interaction perfectly, and are perhaps my favourute scenes about music in movies ever:
The musical snoberry and obsessive list-making are so genuine and identifiable, as is the capturing in book and film of the grand art of making a compilation tape, with all the associated rules and principles. What would these guys have made of iPods and Genius playlists and being able to carry thousands of songs around with them? I would dearly love to know.
The only flaw I have with the film is a pretty significant one, and it is a mark of how much I love the rest of the movie that I am prepared to overlook it, or at least live with it, and it is as follows. When you read the book, you get images of the characters in your head (far more easily than I could do with Annie, for example) and the male actors fitted each of them like a glove. However, I can honestly say that I do not think any of the female leads are even remotely right for their parts (Charlie, Marie and Laura), and just do not match at all what I had in my head, seeming to have wandered in from other films. Charlie is just awful (I guess that's the point) but I just cannot see Rob and this Laura together for real. I have asked myself many times in the years in between who I would put in these roles instead, and have still not got a good answer to that key question, but I think that with perfect casting in both genders, this movie would not be in my top 20 but my top 3.
Of course, the movie would not exist without the book, and the book is the spark which the movie just ignited and amplifies. I loved and love this book. It is wise and funny and oh so real. It is his masterpiece, and it is perhaps foolish to think any mortal could strike such a rich seam that resonates so unerringly with me twice There is somewhere in here a very philosophical point about how maybe Nick Hornby is a little like Tucker Crowe, and 'High fidelity' his own 'Juliet'.
As a final thought, I wonder what would happen if Barry ever met Duncan in Championship Vinyl. That encounter would almost be worth a movie of its own.
A few years ago, I bought a CD of cover versions of songs by Alejandro Escovedo (Por Vida) which some musician friends had organised to try and (I think) pay for his medical bills when he caught hepatitis and his insurance wouldn't cover it. It was a good album, and I loved the idea of the musical community rallying around to help one of their own.
Now there is another example. Mark Mulcahy is a US singer-songwriter whose wife died last year, leaving him alone to bring up his two young daughters. To try and help keep financial pressures off the family, a very special cast of musicians have released 'Ciao my shining star - a love letter to Melissa' (see a Guardian piece for background here).
I saw Mark at least twice in the tiny Lobby venue in Cork a few years ago, and I recall an immensely charismatic and powerful presence, tall and shaggy, with a voice that could flow from whisper to shout almost in an instant, and I bought all his solo albums. 'Smile sunset' is my favourite, and of the wonderful tracks on it, 'Resolution no. 1' is by far the most special, with his emotional voice doing tender miracles in lines like 'Do you still wanna have a baby, would you still want me around?', and songs like 'I just shot myself in the foot again' and the chamber pop epic 'A cup of tea and your insights', trailling off after 7 minutes with the line 'I know that I could be alright' being repeated so often it sounds like both a statement and a plea. In contrast to the optimism this album brings to me, his previous album 'Fathering' is more harrowing (hint: it's key track is wonderfully named 'Hey, self defeater'), but very powerful. I must admit that I have not gone back much into his earlier work with Miracle Legion and Polaris (with one exception, as mentioned below).
Another key track from 'Smile sunset' is 'Mikon the Icon', and the clip below shows pictures of Mark with this track playing over them, showcasing his quite unique voice:
The clip below shows 'Cookie jar', my favourite track off his third solo album, 'In pursuit of your happiness'; I remember hearing this song for the first time on an Uncut CD without looking at the track-list, and immediately knowing it was him from the guitar sound. I know far far too little about guitars or real music stuff to have any explanation for what I mean when I say that Mark Mulcahy has a very Mark Mulcahy guitar sound, as well as a very Mark Mulcahy voice, but there is one, and it bursts out of a cookie jar as soon as this song starts. Of course, just to disprove my point, the live version shown below starts with piano instead of guitar (I do at least know the difference between those instruments) but do check the album version and see what I mean.
So, being a fan of both Mark and cover versions albums, I was understandably excited to hear about this coming out when I read about it a while ago, but my interest was predictably craked up to near-dangerous levels when I found that The National would feature. There is simply no artist today who can excite me with teen-like anticipation like these guys, who still bring out in me the early star-struck fan who waited eagerly for releases by Depeche Mode over 20 years ago. It was the same with 'Dark was the night' earlier this year (see my post on that here), which yielded the magnificent 'So far around the bend'.
So, when I downloaded the album from iTunes (or the 21 tracks on sale in Ireland, 20 more being cruelly held for US customers only, grrr!), the first track to go on was their version of 'Ashamed of the story I told' (from his incarnation as Polaris). The song is really good, with the expected blend of great vocals, drums and a lovely piano motif, if perhaps a little circularly repetitive towards the end, with an odd verse-chorus ratio (although listening to the Polaris original reveals it to be a pretty faithful reproduction).
Then, I switched off shuffle and listened to the tracks as sequenced, with Thom Yorke ('All for the best' as track 1, the National at number 2, and Michael Stipe ('Everything's coming undone') as 3. The first impression of this trio of tracks is that they are all very good (I love the percussion and drumming on Thom Yorke's song and Stipe has a very un-REM almost-celticronic backing) but somehow louder, more technical and more impersonal than Mulcahy's songs at their best, capturing the energy but missing some of the heart? It is the 4th track ('Love's the only thing that shuts me up' by David Berkeley [who?]) that first really catches the starlight that is so important in these songs. Of the others, early highlights include 'I woke up in the mayflower' by Josh Rose, whose voice sounds unexpectedly like Mulcahy's, and tracks by Hayden, Mercury Rev, and the Unbelievable Truth (whose album I bought a decade ago, liked, forgot, and never thought about again until now). Others at first listen scare me, like Frank Black always does, while Dinosoar Jr take pretty much the same scorch and burn approah they took to the Cure's 'Just like heaven' a while back, which I am not sure I have yet forgiven them for.
Of course, another great function of covers' albums is to introduce you to new artists you have not yet heard, by presenting them to you in familiar guises through songs you already know, like a musical chaperone trying to pair you up with an artist first on common ground; this certainly is the case here, and both Chrises Collingwood and Harford will be worth a look in future.
I found the original Mark Mulcahy version of 'All for the best' here, and it raises a very interesting topic (perhaps for another post) of how closely cover versions should follow the template of the original; some of the songs on this album clearly do this to greater or lesser extents, but Thom Yoke has gone off-road in a very interesting way (would we expect any less?):
Even if, so far, I am not sure anyone has managed to capture that voice, and that guitar sound, just right, there is a hell of a lot of pleasure to be got from this album (and a lot more besides if I can only figure out how to access the US-only material). For the musical quality alone it comes strongly recommended; when the background story is considered, it is pretty much compulsory for anyone who likes this blog or the bands mentioned here to buy it.
His Myspace page, with the National and Thom Yorke tracks to listen to, as well as his own tracks (obviously) is here, while I, as usual, direct those in search of more detail to Wikipedia here and the Allmusic Guide here.
Click Here to Read More..
In the early or mid-1990s, I read a review of a music festival in Hot Press, an Irish music magazine, which nearly made me cry. It is not often you say that about a concert review for a band I had never heard of but it meant so much that I kept it, sellotaped to one of the band's CD covers, and it is now yellowing and showing its age, but I want to reprint it here.
'It was always going to be about American Music Club......Suddenly, the moment is upon us and God, there they are and gasp, there he is and wow, listen to that. And that. And that and that and that. How can I do justice to something as beautiful as thus, to the wonder that is American Music Club? This is music at its purest, devoid of gimmicks, one man and his band giving us everything they have and us loving it. This is great art because it gives relentlessly of itself and because it's being given to us by men who are happy to stick their necks out, to put themselves on the line and who are prepared to be taught of by many as fools, sacrificing themselves for the few who gaze on in a state of total adoration.
'This was so beautiful, at times taking a supreme effort for me not to collapse ina heap and in a puddle of tears. In truth, I was not entirely successful in this and sobbed silently away on at leat four occaasions ("Last harbour", "Western sky", "Outside this bar", "Firefly" - just writing these titles gives me goosepimples and you can laugh all you like). This was magnificent and these men you should instantly parade around town on your collective shoulders. The man who said the world doesn't deserve them was right. American Music Club are the greatest band I know'.
What an utterly beautiful piece of music writing! Needless to say, I immediately checked them out, and bought their next CD - 'Mercury'. Now I can't say I would go quite as far as the writer (except perhaps for The National) but they are absolutely a very special band, and one of the best kept secrets in music, huddled close to the hearts of a select bunch of fans.
Their singer, Mark Eitzel, is famously regarded as a miserablist (a good thing in my book, as discussed here) and accounts of their gigs regularly referred to his fragile emotional state (as evidenced by the live album 'Songs of love live', where he sounds like he is breaking down at times). However, many of their songs have a power and majesty that defies such simple characterisation.
I will include a few clips here, starting with 'Outside this bar', live versions of which cannot touch the original album version (from 'Engine'), but capture the spirit of it, with one of my favourite opening lines ('The hospital wouldn't admit you, so we go home again....') and the chorus which always makes me think of a Stephen King tale like 'The mist' ('Outside this bar, there's no-one alive?/Outside this bar, how did anyone survive?').
The next clip is one of their most beautiful moments, 'Fearless' (wonderful even without visuals):
while one of their livelier but still utterly melodically enchanting pieces is 'Wish the world away':
The first AMC song I ever heard was 'Gratitude walks' from 'Mercury', as the first album of theirs I bought, and below is a live version of this which shows a relaxed Eitzel to prove that their live performances were not uniformly anguished affairs:
Any discussion of AMC must consider Eitzel's wonderful way with lyrics, with heart-breaking lines like:
'I thought your love was just a great big lie. Now loving you is the only thing that's gonna get me by' ('Can you help me?')
'I broke my promise, that I wouldn't write another song about you. I guess I lied. After 12 long years, I still love you' ('I broke my promise')
'Saved again, am I saved again? By your eyes, the tears in your eyes. Your tears are the only thing that makes me sure, I've got to love you even more. And your tears are the only thing that'll endure, unless I love you even more' ('Fearless')
His somewhat idiosyncratic way of naming songs also deserves a mention ('The hopes and dreams of heaven's 10,000 whores', 'How many six packs does it take to screw in a light?' and 'What the pillar of salt held up' spring to mind), but overall, it is the pure brilliance of the songs mentioned and shown above, plus 'Blue and grey shirt', 'Gratitude walks', 'Nightwatchman', 'Why won't you stay' and many many more that give their wonderful legacy. There was a compliation of cover versions of Carpetners' songs a while back from which Sonic Youth’s version of ‘Superstar’ got perhaps the most attention (partly thanks to ‘Juno’), but AMC’s version of ‘Goodbye to love’ is a perfect match of subject and singer. On the subject of covers, there was also a hard-to-get CD of AMC covers by people like Lambchop and Willard Grant Conspiracy called ‘Come on beautiful’ (I think I ordered it by post!) which is well worth a listen.
In the late 1990s, after 'San Francisco', they split up and went their separate ways, Mark Eitzelto a slightly uneven solo career (including recording some AMC songs with a Greek folk band!), and guitarist Vudi to apparently drive a bus in LA. Then, a few years, they reformed and released 'Love Songs for Patriots' in 2004; this was not quite up to the wonders of the magnificent trilogy of 'Everclear' (perhaps their strongest and most consistent set, but on average louder than their others), 'Mercury' and 'San Francisco'. Another post soon will address the subject of whether bands can ever completely recapture the magic after years apart (e.g., the Go-Betweens and many more), but 'Love songs' included at least one undisputed AMC classic in 'Another morning':
Last year they released 'The Golden Age' (not one of my favourites) and played a blistering gig in a tiny club in Cork (including a version of 'Home' which finally put to rest their image as sad and quiet), and so they are still out there and there is no excuse for anyone not catching up with them. I have recently installed a widget on this blog which plays their songs, as a little shrine in their honour. Their Allmusic Guide page is here and their Myspace page is here, and if you don't know them go and treat yourself!
September is when Apple traditionally launches new hardware and software, and this year one of the unvelied products was an upgrade to iTunes, version 9, which I downloaded, along with the corresponding software update for the iPod touch, this weekend.
It does bring quite a significant restrutcturing of the main page, with the introduction of columns which can be set, for example, for artist and album name, vertically, as opposed to the old horizontal split screen. This can be seen from the screenshot below:
This actually works well, beside being a novelty and new way to visualise youcollection, for grabbing and dropping into playlists, alongside which the columns now appear. I tested this out when I decided that I was getting nervous about my iPod being full to within 1gB of capacity, as if it might somehow burst or low a gasket from running so close to fullness, so set up a new core playlist to copy, and simply dragged across all the albums I reckoned I had around a 50:50 chance of listening to any time soon, ending up with just shy of 3000 songs; when I set the sync options to copy these plus all my usual self-made playlists and Genius selections (to give a flavour of randomness by bringing across songs I surely would not have picked by album) I think I got a good selection for carrying around, and had freed up around 6gB. This sort of decluttering was way easier in the new layout than the old.
When an iPod is attached, you can also quite easily move around your Apps between screens using the PC interface, which is actually quite useful, and let me set up a utility screen, a games screen etc. I invertoried my games apps as follows:
Alien Attack (addictive old style space invaders game) Asphalt 4 (not a big fan or car games but looks good) Biball lite (early shower-offer for accelerometer) Bloom (Eno makes it cool but actually a bit boring?) Brothers in Arms (played a bit, too hard) Chess free (keeps beating me) Doom Resurrection (played a bit, best shooter found yet) Four free (addictive, keeps beating me!) Imagini (really hard word game, too hard) Labyrinth 3D (like biball, bit hard, bit boring) Monopoly (way too slow and complicated) Ragdoll Physics (cleverest and best, really cool) Scrabble (an old reliable) Shooter (not played yet) Soduku (it is soduku - does what it says on the tin) Star Wars (Force Unleashed) (good graphics but complicated) Terminator (new, haven't played much) Tetris (hard to control on small screen) TT star lite (new but looks good) Wurdle (like this a lot, word search under time pressure, like Boggle)
This looks like a lot, but I reckon I still spent less on these than I would on a new PC or Wii game, and they have filled in many a quiet moment in an airport or on a plane or train. I like the apps side of the Touch, and the extra dimension it gives the iPod. I much prefer playing games on it than either a DS or PSP, and know that may put me in a minority.
One of the other new 'big launch fuss' items was iTunes LP, which I heard about and then found very hard to actually find. The new iTunes store interface (not that huge an improvement, in my mind) does not exactly highlight them despite the fuss, and I had to do quite a bit of googling before I found what artists were on it, and the only one that semi-appealed was the new Muse album, because I had read some good reviews recently, so I downloaded it in ‘LP’ version, for the same price I would pay for a regular iTunes download album.
The LP format actually means very little in terms of what goes on your iPod; the content is all on your PC, but the track list now include a LP icon, and clicking that brings you to a ‘homepage’ for the album (first screen short below), from which you can navigate to pages with comments on each song, lyrics, photos, videos (3 short live clips) and full credits. I like it and think that, for an album I love, this will add a huge amount of added value.
So, what about the music for this guineae pig download? I had not actually listened to any Muse-ic (cue groan at pun) before this, and it is too early to do a detailed review, but so far I do like the sound of it (particularly the drums). I found a live clip from the last few days on Youtube of one of the songs I like so far as below:
Yesterday, I also, in a completely spontaneous decision, bought a bargain bin (€5) CD of the greatest hits of Dusty Springfield; several of the songs were familiar, and I loved 'Son of a preacher man', discovered of course through 'Pulp Fiction'. A few partial listens tells me that (a) I know more than I thought and (b) the voie is simply amazing, and send shivers up and down my spine (like Karen Carpenter does). A clip of her doing 'I just don't know what do do with myself' is below:
Of course, when I get and like a CD like this, it is something of a departure from my normal listening, and prompts sudden panic attacks of age-induced diminution of my critical faculties, but then a little digging reassured me that it is okay for like Dustry, even if you are not QT. Fans include the White Stripes, who can be seen doing the same song below:
And finally, what about the apparent gulf between my two purchases on the same day, Muse and Dusty? More digging proved that the gulf is not that wide after all, as it seems they have a habit of playing 'Can't take my eyes off you' live:
Yes, I know, it is not Dusty (but Andy Williams) but it is in the same ballpark, as opposed to this post, which started off on software and ended up on Andy Williams. Blame iTunes 9!
A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, I switched on the TV in a house I was renting and saw a performance on MTV Unplugged by a band I could not immediately identify, some of whose songs sounded quite familiar, and all of them sounded fantastic. One in particular stuck in my head, and a few days later, I badgered someone into identifying it as 'Alive' by Pearl Jam, and confusion reigned - they were some kind of grunge/heavy metal band, right? Now, I had bought 'Nevermind' and enjoyed it, but I had not gone much further, and had no real intention of doing so, but on the basis of that TV performance I bought 'Ten' and it really did nothing for me, and was what I thought Pearl Jjam was like, and have rarely listened to it since.
A few years later, for some inexplicable reason, I bought 'Vs', though (maybe it was the reviews, maybe it was just near the register in HMV, maybe some particularly persuasive salesperson talked me into it), and this made far more of an impression, and I really liked it. Then, harsh fate intervened, and it was stolen along with a bunch of other CDs in a burglary, and I forgot it.
Until this year. If this blog was a movie, there would be some cool transition to explain the passage of over a decade, but in reality Pearl Jam popped back onto my radar by the release of their new album and the re-release of 'Ten' in a special edition including that fateful MTV performance. Now, being the sort of sap for deluxe editions and the like that record company executives dream of, I went to buy said edition, but found it to cost a whoping €40, and took an uncharacteristically mature decision that nostalgia has its cost, and it is less than that. I then went home and bought 'Vs' from iTunes instead, as well as (on a whim) a live album from somewhere called Benaroya Hall, which was recommended as being mostly acoustic (and which I have yet to listen to much).
Anyway, how was 'Vs' 15 years or so later? Bloody wonderful! This is so far from the kind of music I have been listening to in the intervening period that I half expected my iPod to reject it, like a badger organ transplanted into a human body. Before finishing this post with the usual set of Youtube videos, I will show a clip from that MTV performance, of 'Alive':
The combination of Vedder's unmistakeable vocals and the expert musicianship reassure me as to why it made such an impact on me such time around. Moving to 'Vs', my favourite track is probably 'Daughter', as shown live below:
Of the other tracks, I guess 'Elderly woman behind the counter in a small town' (does exactly what it says on the tin?) should fit my tastes pretty neatly, but in fact I prefer the heavier songs, like 'Dissident' below:
For the final clip, over the chasm of years since first listen, the drum intro to 'W.M.A.' has somehow lodged in my brain, like a latent virus or a sleeper agent, reactivated when I played it again, and sounding, as it did then, like a new reimagining of Joy Division:
This month, I have discovered one artist from the 1990s who I unbelievably managed to miss at the time (the unbelievable Jayhawks) and one album that I caught first time around, and then forgot, and then rediscovered. Not a bad musical month.
On Wedneday night, 2nd September, I went to see Mick Flannery for the second time in a month, in another tiny venue called the Blackbird, a pub in Ballycotton, around 30 miles from Cork, which has a small back room used for intimate (estimated max capacity of 50!) gigs. It was too small for the full band to fit in, and the drummer had to stay home; also, unexpectedly, did Yvonne, his back-up singer and usual duet partner. Violinist Karen had to step in and fill her shoes, and did very well under the circumstances!
A few weeks back, I wrote a long piece and review on Mick (see here), so I will keep this one short. Basically, the latest gig was very different, partly due to the line-up and also partly due to the set-list, which featured an idiosynchractic choice of cover versions, as well as the usual stuff from his two albums (some notable omissions included 'Safety rope'). Nonetheless, it was a great gig, and he was in sligthly more relaxed form (a relative term for Mick); I am becoming convinced he is developing a very definite stage personality which is based around not having a stage personality, and his nervousness and self-deprecation is an essential part of the charm package.
The first cover was Tom Waits' 'Martha' (as also played in the previous gig) and which he was somewhat 'pressurised' to do by my wife, after explaining the fact that our daughter was named after the song. Fair play to him for playing it out of either loyalty to his fans or fear, and it can be seen below (remembered to turn the phone around after the first few seconds):
The next cover caught me off guard as I was going 'I know it, I know it....' before my mental filing of everything Uncut taught me brought the Felice Brothers to my lips, and even the song name ('Frankie's gun'); I downloaded the album ages ago and this was the only track which really stood out for me. Eventually, after the penny dropped, I got a quick clip as seen below:
The next clip I am including is from 'Cut it clean', which is fast becoming a favourite of his new stuff, after this, probably my third hearing:
And finally, I will include another surprising (and yet fairly logical) cover, of Springsteen's 'The river', and the clip includes some audience banter and eventual mass participation (all 50 of us!) in a really lovely and powerful version:
As has happened before, my N95 lost the will to film at this point, and the battery faded badly, and so I missed what was still a good lively final cover of 'The night they drove old Dixie down', before a short encore (they couldn't go anywhere - the crowd was blocking the door), and the final song was, appropriately, 'Goodbye'.
Another great gig and I remain a true believer with the fervour of the convert; he has announed more gigs in Cork and the U.K. (see here) and wherever the hell you are, you should get to one of them.
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..
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.
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..
The author of this blog (AK) lives in Cork, Ireland, and works in higher education. He downloads more music than he has time to listen to, has around 10,000 songs on his PC, and always has a queue of DVDs he can't find time to watch; TV is consumed mostly through DVD box set catch-ups, and The West Wing is his absolute benchmark of perfection. He has a worrying gadget obsession, and in August 2010 he traded in his Nokia N95 and retired his 32-gB iPod Touch, for an iPhone 4.0, and has never looked back. He still clings to his Blackberry and Dell D430 laptop, though. Games-wise, his family have a Wii, several DSs and a PSP, but he has never found anything to match the visceral experience of first-person shooters on the PC, his all-time favourite probably being Half-Life 2. He may technically be a kidult. A general urge to share some random thoughts on all of the above, or just to write them down, led him to start this Blog. Please feel free to leave comments, or e-mail him at theculturecollection@gmail.com. He is also on Myspace at
http://www.myspace.com/theculturecollection.
This actually works well, beside being a novelty and new way to visualise youcollection, for grabbing and dropping into playlists, alongside which the columns now appear. I tested this out when I decided that I was getting nervous about my iPod being full to within 1gB of capacity, as if it might somehow burst or low a gasket from running so close to fullness, so set up a new core playlist to copy, and simply dragged across all the albums I reckoned I had around a 50:50 chance of listening to any time soon, ending up with just shy of 3000 songs; when I set the sync options to copy these plus all my usual self-made playlists and Genius selections (to give a flavour of randomness by bringing across songs I surely would not have picked by album) I think I got a good selection for carrying around, and had freed up around 6gB. This sort of decluttering was way easier in the new layout than the old.
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.
