Record: Katatonia 'Dead End Kings' (2012)

I've been a massive Katatonia fan for just under a day now, and it's mostly down to this (their most recent) record. I saw them live last week opening for Opeth and liked them (especially Nille, because holy **** I want a grey Warwick LX 5 just like his), but was too caught up in being psyched about seeing Mendez & Åkerfeldt et al live for the first time to really get into these guys. Until I got past Watershed  and The Raven That Refused To Sing in my stack of to-listen discs and tossed this one on my work playlist this morning. Ten hours and three-point-five full listens later... I love it. I love it so much I don't even know what to do. It's like everything that's bad for me in one gloriously, self-indulgently, bleakly-bespattered-with-carrion-birds package delivered by deliciously gloomy Swedish deliverymen with, collectively, at least a mile of hair over their faces. It's like going on a diet of only things that are unhealthy but also unspeakably delicious. It's like - fuck, just go listen to it already. You know you want to, and anyway I can't concentrate on writing this review anymore because I need to go and listen to Dead Letters again.

Record: Rhonda Smith 'Intellipop' (2000)

It's no secret that, as a rule, I harbor grave suspicions regarding 'funk' and the so-called and much-maligned 'mainstream' popular music. Rules being made to be broken, I wasn't particularly surprised when singer & bassist Rhonda Smith smashed that one to pieces with her mighty Mesa-powered tone and almost miraculous ability to look gorgeous even while clad in bright yellow. [Seriously. How does she even do that?! No one looks good in yellow.] Despite the unavoidably funky pop style of this record, I find myself unable to turn it off (or stop hitting 'replay'). The unusually tasteful arrangements and even more unusually tasteful lyrics keep me coming back for another listen, as do the skillfully complex basslines lurking in the background of the deliciously atmospheric mix. Though a few loudmouthed (and tasteless, and possibly hearing-impaired) critics have disparaged her naturalistic, unpolished singing style and relative lack of vocal pyrotechniques, I would argue that the understated vocal lines and slightly unusual timbre of her voice are all the more captivating for their (minor) imperfections.

Check this classy lady out:

Film: 'The Commitments' (1991)

[Yeah, I know this update is long-overdue. I was ill, and then I was ill, and then I was ill, and then I got my arm out of a cast and had hideously painful physiotherapy and hurt too much to type. Bite me.]

Have you seen this movie? No? Man, what are you still doing on this blog?! Go beg, borrow, or st - er, 'rent' - a copy, right now! I just saw this for the first time, and it's definitely a new all-time favourite. Why, you ask? Well - there's the soundtrack, for one. And the soundtrack. Oh, and - the soundtrack... (The rest of the film is fantastic too, but, as you can probably tell, I can't get over how good the music was.)

Based on one of Roddy Doyle's novels (which I, shamefully, have yet to read), the film chronicles the making and breaking of a North Dublin soul band. It's a good story, produced and acted unusually well - and the cast really did perform their own songs, which makes it even better. A skillful blend of high-flying hilarity and grim reality keeps any potential dull moments from rearing their monotonous heads, and the irresistible energy of great music drives the film from beginning to end with never a note out of place. If you like music, you will love this movie.

Song: Robyn Hitchcock 'Not Dark Yet' (2005)

This is really beautiful. I can't stand Bob Dylan (I know, I'm a heretic, burn me at the stake or whatever); I think most of his songs are horribly phony and pretentious, and calculatedly arty in a horribly smug sort of way. Every once in a while though, someone does a Dylan cover that makes me recognize the merit in a particular song (like MCR's cover of Desolation Row - yeah, I know, now you really want to burn me at the stake - well, bite me!), and this particular cover elevates that merit into the realm of genuine loveliness. Robyn's interpretation has a classy sort of softness to it, so different from the harsh original; his spare acoustic guitar winds beautifully together with John Paul Jones' (yes, that John Paul Jones) tasteful mandolin accompaniment in an unusually elegant take on an oft-recorded song.

Covers have such an odd and uncomfortable place in the music world. It's terribly irritating when a loathly, rotten band covers a great song, which is far too often what happens. Every once in a while a great artist manages to drastically improve on the original, as in John Cale's exquisite cover of Hallelujah and the Soft Cell version of Tainted Love. Here's an exceptional example of one of the most consistently underrated musicians I've heard covering one of the most consistently overrated:

Film: 'RiP!: A remix manifesto' (2008)

There are a host of reasons why this might be the coolest thing I've seen all year. It's certainly one of the most relevant, given the neverending debates, arguments, and all-out warfare surrounding the issue of copyright infringement. Because I've only got 300 words here I can't just gush about how much I love this movie, so here are two of the aforementioned host of reasons:

1. The concept! This is an open source film. All of the footage is freely available on the Open Source Cinema site under a Creative Commons license; you are allowed - nay, encouraged - to download it, copy it, slap it together with new stuff and/or in new ways (in short, remix it) and make your own damn movie.

2. Cory Doctorow's in it. And if that's not enough cool in one place for you, there's also Lawrence Lessig, about whom I am in total agreement with filmmaker Brett Gaylor: this man is the coolest lawyer in the world. Still not enough? Okay, how about pirate cartoonist Dan O' Neill, legendary musician Gilberto Gil, and Bittersweet Symphony capoeira in the slums of Rio? Oh, and did I mention that a good deal of the film centres on kickass mashup artist Gregg Gillis, better known as the infamous Girl Talk?

Go watch this intelligent, informative, levelheaded, and terrifyingly to-the-point film. It's affordable and readily available (hell, the whole thing's on youtube - though if you like it and you've got some spare change, you can make a donation). Form your own opinion (or borrow a few from other people and make a philosophical mashup). I see this project's message as an invitation to help create the world we want to live in, and that is gloriously cool.

Record: Japan 'Obscure Alternatives' (1978)

This record is such an odd experience. Being a massive fan of their later works, the Japan sound I know is smoothly elegant; classy, cool, and substantially coloured by exotic tints of civilizations far from England in the golden age of synthpop. It's completely disorienting to put on a Japan record and hear loud, fast, raw, raunchy glam rock. None of the esoteric beauty of Gentlemen Take Polaroids is to be found here, and Sylvian, not yet having developed his trademark velvety baritone croon, is almost unrecognizable in these gritty, yowling vocals. Only in Karn's slippery, tonally unstable bass playing and Jansen's frenetically odd drumming can I hear strong hints of the sounds I know they'll be making by the next record, 1979's stupendous Quiet Life. Most of the record is more reminiscent of some strange cross between The New York Dolls and tidbits of jazz and funk. It's also strange to hear so much prominent guitar; after this record most guitar sounds would become completely lost in the tonal sea of Richard Barbieri's wall-o'-synth - which is nearly inaudible this time around. The only track which resembles what I think of as 'the Japan sound' is The Tenant, a piano-based instrumental which ends the record on a note that carries over into every record they released afterwards. 

It's a damned good record once I manage to shut myself off from the visceral "that CAN'T be Japan" reaction. Their musical proficiency makes for a nice change from the simplistic three-chord structure of most glam rock, and it's quite entertaining hunting for precursors to their rather sudden switch to a sleek, shimmering art-pop sound.

Song: David Sylvian 'Silver Moon' (1986)

Here's a bit of buried treasure for you. I'm a pretty massive fan of Mr. Sylvian's music, most of the time, but I have yet to discover much affection for his record Gone to Earth. It swarms with unappealing qualities, particularly that pretentious sort of spiritualism which always makes me want to smack those afflicted by it upside the head in the hope that they'll come to their senses. It's not one of the triumphs of his career (unlike the absolutely perfect Secrets of the Beehive, of which I will write more at some point). Silver Moon, however, is a completely different sort of fish. This swooning little gem of a song seems completely at odds with the rest of the album; psuedo-Eastern mysticism gives way to lush romanticism, accompanied by a lithe, swaying beat unlike anything else on the record. The rich, silky warmth of many-layered instrumentation contrasts marvellously with the simple (and simply perfect) vocal, making for a deliriously lovely confection:

...Of course, having written all about why I can't stand Gone to Earth, I shall most likely listen to the whole record sixteen times in a row and end up falling in love with it after all, which is what always happens for me with Sylvian records. I didn't like Brilliant Trees at first either, and now I think it's, well, brilliant. Gone to Earth has got a lot going for it (like Steve Nye, for example - and Bill Nelson, Robert Fripp, & Richard Barbieri - and my favourite drummer of all time, Steve Jansen), so perhaps I ought to give it rather more of a chance.

Film: 'Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence' (1983)

This is - an extraordinary film. I don't think I've felt so moved by any other; there may simply not be any other which so tangibly portrays the utter madness of men in times of war. The four main characters, placed in impossible circumstances by the enmity of their countries and cultures and by their own conflicting feelings, alternately support and destroy one another in a heart-wrenchingly believable fashion.
Perhaps it is so believable because the story was based on Sir Laurens van der Post's remarkable memoirs of his years spent as prisoner of war at a Japanese camp in Java during the second world war - at any rate that might account for the truthful ring of the script. I think, though, that the real power lies in the unusual solidity with which the main cast became their characters; I don't expect I shall see another film starring David Bowie during which I forget that it's really David Bowie I'm seeing. Truthfully, I watched this film purely for the sake of the soundtrack and the star-studded cast, and came away from it with something in me changed. I cannot begin to express how much I hope that you will see it too.

Book: Neil Peart 'Ghost Rider' (2002)

This one's a bit of a tearjearker, the story of a man who lost absolutely everything and survived only by running away. It would be sad even if it weren't true - his daughter died, his wife died, his dog died, and his best friend went to prison - but it is true; all of that really happened to the author, who is also the drummer for Canadian band Rush. The book chronicles a series of impressively long motorcycle trips he took, through North and Central America, hoping that time, distance, and miles-put-behind would let him escape the shambles of his life. Apart from the tragic elements, it's a wonderful travel story; the collected letters and journal entries that he tied together with concise, illustrative reminiscences portray an astonishing number of km traveled, sights seen, and well-described fun roads ridden. He's a very good writer, in a concise, almost-journalistic sort of way. There is a little bit of a financial disconnect; as a reader accustomed to shoestring-budget travel, I did keep getting a bit hung up on all the expensive meals he ate and the way he could always afford to stay in good hotels, and his ever-growing collection of beautiful motorcycles. But hey - the man worked hard for his fortune, and I'm glad it was able to help him live through his troubles.

Highlight: one of the real pleasures of this book is reading about all the other books Peart, a voracious reader, consumed during his travels (I look forward to reading many of them myself).

Record: Pitty Sing 'Pitty Sing' (2005)

Unrealized potential makes me want to cry, and this album is a perfect example why. It's not a great record; the songs are all over the place, the lyrics oscillate between witty, trashy, and trite, and the obsessive-sounding overproduction is just plain off. But the talent! It oozes out from between the grooves, displaying so, so much potential greatness, and it's a real tragedy for music that they never made another album. I remember hearing this when it first came out and thinking I'd discovered the next best thing since candy. The flaws here do shine as brightly as the facets - but there's still that undeniable appeal of something lurking in the music, set off rather wonderfully by the unusual harmonic progressions, the unobtrusively clever basslines, and Paul Holmes' outrageously sexy vocals floating atop a wash of sadly-digital-sounding synths. The right combination of time, experience, stern management, and better production might have resulted in one of the best bands of the decade - Steve Nye could have made these guys into stars! - and it's a damned shame we don't get to hear what that sounds like.

Favourite tracks: We're On Drugs (most solid song on the record), Anyway (a little overblown, but it's an awfully good tune), and ctwyl (fantastic use of that lovely voice).

Record: Kings of Leon 'Youth & Young Manhood' (2003)

If you can explain to me why I feel guilty about loving this record, I'll take you out for ice cream*. Seriously, I will! I couldn't begin to tell you why, but I have to admit that Kings of Leon fall squarely into the category of bands I wouldn't want my friends to know I like. Which is totally stupid, because this catchy, raucous little record is a hell of a good time, and one has cheered me up rather a lot during the past week or so. I do find it a little off-putting that singer Caleb F. sounds so astonishingly, incoherently hammered - like he's maybe swigging some really terrible Southern beer every time he stops singing to 'take a breath' - but his style does fit the music, and the music is really pretty decent.

Favourite tracks: 'Happy Alone' (the sheer quantity of madcap drunken glee is irresistible), 'Joe's Head' (I LOVE Jared F.'s slidy, melodic bassline on this weirdly cheery murder ditty), and the menacingly groovy 'Holy Roller Novocaine'.

*next time we hang out. Sorry if that takes a while to happen, but I'm rarely in your part of the world...

Record: Porcupine Tree 'The Incident' (2009)

[I broke my wrist. This makes typing a serious nuisance, particularly capital letters, but it also makes me so bored - I can't do very much of anything useful - that one-handed typing seems like a worthwhile diversion. Excessive reviews may be forthcoming... For now, on to the record of the hour.]

Warning: this record may eat your soul.

Well, okay, maybe not yours - I don't know how susceptible you may be. It did eat mine though; I couldn't listen to anything else for a month after first hearing. It's such a perfectly complete self-contained sonic universe that no other music sounded right until I'd burned this into my consciousness solidly enough that I didn't need to hear it all of the time. The music is incredible, exquisitely beautiful melodies woven through bitter harmony and harshly distorted, brutally melancholic riffs. The band has never played better; Colin Edwin's tastefully (and sometimes deceptively) simple basslines really shine through the achingly beautiful haze of the stupendous Richard Barbieri's wall-of-synth. The mix is unusually clean, achieving that rare beast, perfect balance. This just might be the best headphones album ever made. I'm not sure I could name the other 4, but this is definitely one of my top 5 records.

Film: 'Stop Making Sense' (1984)

The show ends. The credits roll. My Dad turns to me and says "...You know how [our friends] P. and R. have to watch 'Hair' every year? ...I gotta see this every year."

I couldn't possibly have said it better myself, but here's my 3 cents:
Watch this film. It's a wonderful portrait of a great band putting on a spectacular, rivetingly peculiar show. The cinematographic construction absolutely does justice to the frenetically bizarre performers (thanks, Jonathan Demme!), and the ever-changing backdrops are enviably clever. Plus - David Byrne, live! Possibly the weirdest guy in rock & roll, he's certainly one of the most entertaining. Do see it, you'll be missing out on such a treat if you don't.

Highlight: there are two -
1. The special guest appearance by Tom Tom Club, performing 'Genius of Love', and the iconic
2. "Anyone got a match?"

Book: Steve Earle 'I'll Never Get Out Of This World Alive' (2011)

Okay, I promise not to mention Steve Earle again for at least 10 posts. After this one, that is - Mr. Earle's debut novel has my vote for the best book of 2011, so I have to write about it. First of all, the man can write - anyone who pays attention to that sort of thing will be deeply satisfied by the style and grace with which he strings words together. Secondly, it's awfully rare that someone takes grim subject matter (in this case junk addicts, slums, whores, the Kennedy assassination, an accidentally-pregnant Mexican girl, and a discredited doctor turned back-alley abortionist who is haunted by the ghost of Hank Williams) and manages to create something which isn't depressing, disheartening, or just plain ugly. This book is so far from being ugly I think I'd have to label it something pretentious like transcendentally lovely, which, on second thought, doesn't seem excessive as a description for a story that travels from a Texas brothel to a Mexican valley full of Monarch butterflies. The book is named for Hank's last song, which you might like to listen to for context; there's also rather a good record of the same name which Earle released last year. I love, love, love this book - it's beautiful and heartbreaking and lyrical and sometimes funny, and also just a plain ol' good story - please, please read it.

What I originally wrote after reading this: 'I'm going to write a review once I can find the words, but in the meantime, please read this astonishingly beautiful little book. It will touch a corner of your heart that you might not even have known about.'

Film: 'Heartworn Highways' (1981)

I've never much cared for country music. There's always an exception though; in this case that's a handful of artists who belonged to the Outlaw Country movement of the 1960s and 70s, particularly Guy Clark, Larry Jon Wilson, and the immortal Townes Van Zandt. Their anachronistic style, harking back to the days before Chet Atkins' slickly modern 'Nashville Sound', was firmly rooted in the honky-tonk and folk music tradition of authenticity - these musicians usually managed to sound like they were thinking of something other than money while they sang. It's good stuff. This lovely little documentary shows a motley assortment of performances, interviews, and recording studio sessions by quite a few country greats (including Guy, Larry Jon, Townes, Charlie Daniels, and a very young Steve Earle). I'd say it's a must-watch even if you think you don't like country music; you just might change your mind. I know I did. Definitely watch the extras.

Highlight: Guy Clark repairing Billy Callery's guitar (seriously - it's mesmerizing). Oh, yeah, and the soundtrack is rather good.

Film poster featuring Townes & Uncle Seymour Washington

Record: Justin Townes Earle 'Midnight At The Movies' (2009)

I've got a bit of a soft spot for young Mr. Earle. He's never struck me as having the sheer quantity of raw talent that his daddy was blessed (or possibly cursed?) with, but there's a softness and a prettiness to this record that I've never heard from the elder Earle. I really, really like the atmosphere of nostalgic antiquity, drawing heavily from the 1920s and 30s for musical inspiration, juxtaposed anachronistically with fairly modern lyrics. These songs are nice, which is, for one thing, a bit surprising considering the source, and for another, quite refreshing in this world that tends to glorify nastiness. It's a little bit of an odd listen, haunted as he is by the ghosts of older musicians hanging over his head, but he seems to have chosen to accept that fact rather than to fight it, and I think it's worked wonders for his songwriting.

Book: Cherie Currie 'Neon Angel: A Memoir of a Runaway' (2010)

I really like this book. Cherie Currie, former lead singer of groundbreaking all-girl rock band The Runaways (whose founding and best-known member was the illustrious Joan Jett), has lived an extraordinary and varied life (from valley girl to underage rock star, film actress to nonfunctional drug addict, teen counselor to world-renowned chainsaw carver...), and her memoir spares none of the gritty details. It's a bit of a harrowing read, owing to the mind-boggling amount of illicit substances consumed, the heartless exploitation of talented young girls, and the sheer number of terrifying situations Ms. Currie managed to get herself into. It's also fairly amazing (and inspiring) to know how she lived through it all, reinventing herself over and over again, and continues to be a gifted, creative, and exceptionally strong lady. The quality of writing leaves a little to be desired, but I've seen worse, and the quality of content is more than satisfying.

Check out her website to see photos of her lovely and unique art.

Record: John Martyn 'Solid Air' (1973)

I feel that this album is one of the lost treasures of 20th-century music. It's an elusively delightful record that, for the first couple of listens, truly evaded me - then one day it just hit me right, and I got what it was for and about. What I'm saying is - it might take a few tries to get past the slightly off-putting way that Martyn slurs his words together (like the horrible old sot that he in fact was), and the way he turns soft consonants into hard ones. It's undeniably a little odd. But... Patience and an open mind will be amply rewarded when you lock in on the gorgeous tunes (particularly 'Solid Air', 'Over the Hill', and 'May You Never') and the sheer beauty of his voice and guitar playing. This was the record which introduced me to the concept of jazz-folk, which is a surprisingly winning combination, and this record is also one of the finest examples of that genre.

Highlight: seriously kick-ass upright basslines courtesy of the truly great Mr. Danny Thompson (you'll be hearing more about him as this blog progresses), particularly on the title track and on 'Go Down Easy':

Record: John Cale 'Fragments of a Rainy Season' (1992)

Full disclosure: I am physically, mentally, and emotionally incapable of writing an objectively unbiased review of Mr. Cale's work. I think the man is a genius, and, viola notwithstanding, he's one of my best-beloved and most-revered musical heroes.

On to the subject at hand, which has got to be one of the top 10 greatest live albums of all time. It's a compilation of highlights recorded during Cale's 1992 tour, showcasing a superlative performer at his very best. My one complaint is that there are only 20 tracks, which leaves me very much wanting more.
Most of the material is his own, though there are two really stupendous covers - a version of 'Heartbreak Hotel' that might just rip the heart right out of you, and perhaps the most beautiful and honest rendition of 'Hallelujah' I've heard. My personal favourite tracks are 'Child's Christmas in Wales', 'Thoughtless Kind', and the outstanding '(I Keep A) Close Watch', which really brings out the lovely bittersweet quality his voice performs so beautifully.

Also check out the 'Fragments of a Rainy Season' DVD, filmed during that tour at the Palais des Beaux-Arts in Brussels; the man is a classy, elegant performer, and that's a bit of a rarity and a real pleasure to witness:

Film: 'Velvet Goldmine' (1998)

I just love this film. It is endlessly visually attractive, as befits a film about glam rock - oh, the costumes! The hair! Jonathan Rhys Meyers in lipstick, glitter, and platform boots! Ewan McGregor dolled up in a prettier form of Iggy Pop rockstar excess, and also satyr pants! Eddie Izzard as the sleaziest of sleazebag managers! Oscar Wilde as Ziggy Stardust-like alien plot point! You get the point - it's pretty. It's also and ultimately rather sad, in a poetic sort of a fashion (though it doesn't get me down the way a lot of sad stuff does - I think that's mostly because it's so pretty, but also because it ends as much in transmutation as in a fall). Three parts rock & roll fairytale and one part star-crossed love story, the film documents the arc-of-stardom of Brian Slade/Maxwell Demon, a Bowie-like rock god who falls in love with the wrong guy and, in the end, finally makes the right choices too late to be anything but someone else. I can't even tell you how many times I've seen it, because I've lost count.

Bonus: brilliant soundtrack, featuring the illustrious likes of Thom Yorke, Roxy Music, the immensely talented and, sadly, now-defunct Shudder To Think, T. Rex, Lou Reed, Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel, Carter Burwell, Placebo, Grant Lee Buffalo, Teenage Fanclub, Donna Mathews, Pulp...