Chimpomatic

Fleet Foxes

Fleet Foxes

Bella Union / Sub Pop

Hailing from Seattle, 5 piece Fleet Foxes have been causing quite a stir locally and while Sub Pop have long been Seattle's finest they thankfully they stuck to their "only sign bands from Seattle" code to snap up this band - as let's face it, that's a code that has seen more than a few happy exceptions recently (The Shins, Postal Service, Oxford Collapse, Flight of the Conchords (!?)).

Using heavy precussion, multiple vocals and a giant dollop of campfire guitar acoustics, Fleet Foxes gently rustle up an epic granduer that you often won't see coming. Everybody's talking about the Crosby, Stills & Nash sound that the band have, but it's just as valid to compare them to contempories like My Morning Jacket and label-mates Band of Horses - as all rely heavily on a powerful voice to carry the dense, sophisticated music. While there's a definite nostalgia to Fleet Foxes, it never seems like pastiche or parody - just fun, passionate music, with a depth and quality way beyond the band's slender years.

Thankfully there's a healthy dose of Young in that Crosby, Stills and Nash sound and while the hymnal harmonies might be the obvious USP here it's the rockier numbers that have grabbed my attention. The sweeping guitars of Ragged Wood build in beautiful climbing chords, while the pounding drums and keyboard provide the backing for a grand narrative on Your Protector. Thanks to more examples on the Sun Giant EP (English House and Mykonos in particular) it seems clear that this is an element that has plenty of room for development within the band.

For a debut album this is a pretty stellar release and you can only hope that things are going to get even better from this band. Fantastic.

#Music
#CSF

2nd Jun 2008 - 4 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Vantage Point

(dir Pete Travis)

Presidential assassin thriller that rewinds the Spanish action several times until you get to see what’s really going on/get bored/realise it’s all totally ridiculous.

That said, it’s quite enjoyable. One of those dumb rides that thinks it’s a lot smarter than it it, but then finally gives in and rounds everything off with a big chase and one of the funniest mano y mano declarations of love you’ll see in a long time. And it’s only 90 minutes, which is a real plus in the chimp book of not wasting your life watching duff films.

Dennis Quaid is the Secret Service guy who took a bullet for President William Hurt a few years ago, and still Hasn’t Quite Got Over It.

Matthew Fox has got some time off the Lost island to play the Agent Who Vouches For Agent Quaid cos he’s an old buddy and still trusts him even though he’s a bit twitchy.

Forest Whitaker is a tourist filming stuff with his SONY handycam (coincidentally, it’s a Sony movie too, what are the odds?)

Sigourney Weaver plays a hard-nosed rolling news producer making some Tough Calls. But then they forget she’s in the film and she disappears.

Said Taghmaoui was much better in La Haine etc.

“8 Strangers. 8 Points of View. 1 Truth (the end sucks)”
 

#Film
#chimp71

26th Feb 2008 - Add Comment - Tweet

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles

Pilot

Fox/Virgin 1

"Half an hour. One bag, plus the guns. I'll make pancakes."

Entertaining attempt to string out the Terminator franchise into a Littlest Hobo/Hulk style TV show - they're on the run, they've got to solve some mystery, help some local fools down a well, move on again at the end of the episode etc etc.

Summer Glau- who played the kooky mystic River in Serenity and Firefly gets the T:2.5 upgrade here delivering the "come with me if you want to live" line as the good Terminator, which is no doubt going to be a bit confusing for young John Connor (Thomas Dekker- the geek who hung out with the cheerleader in Heroes until he had his mind wiped). She's the same "age" (well, built to look like she is), his uptight mum keeps making him swap schools - surely she's the only candidate he's going to be allowed to hang out with?

Lena Heady - who was tough Queen Gorgo in 300 does a good job of taking over from Linda Hamilton as the tooled-up Sarah Connor, keeping family life running at a fairly paranoid pace, no doubt checking in with some of her survivalist pals as the series goes on. No Arnie or even Robert Patrick obviously, but the other bad Terminator (Skynet has obviously got its future factories busy churning out some new models) is OK, chasing after them, pulling guns out of his legs etc; and there's also a human cop chasing them (just like the Hulk) who's figured out that something weird might be going on with these pesky Connors who keep getting into explosive trouble.

It's set sometime after T:2, and ignores T:3 (wise move), with the Connors and "Cameron" (the friendly Terminator) trying to track down Skynet and figure out how to take control of the future. Again.

Would have liked them to keep it as a period piece in the 1980s (where we start out) - not to spoil things too much, but there is some (budget-friendly) time-travelling to get things into the noughties (where sets are easier to build I guess). Much better than the Bionic Woman reboot, the other new cyborg-babe show vying for your attention in 2008.

#TV
#chimp71

30th Dec 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Futurama - Bender's Big Score

(dir. Dwayne Carey-Hill)

Comedy Central

In the words of Hubert Farnsworth, Planet Express Delivery's resident  mad scientist, "Good news everyone..." Futurama is back. The much overlooked second project from The Simpson's Matt Groening and David X Cohen has been reactivated after those dummies at the fox network cancelled it in 2003 after just four seasons. Comedy Central (with Fox's blessing) is backing 4 feature length DVD release films which it intends to air broken into episodes with added material. For those of you with a region 1 DVD player, the first feature is available to buy now - together with bonus featurette "Everyone loves Hypnotoad". And the news is, indeed, good. Original voice cast, same look to the animation, same writers - and just like Planet Express, it really delivers.

Without giving too much away, the first feature serves up a generous helping of what the fanboys want. All the familiar faces are present - in addition to Fry and Leela, Prof Farnsworth, Zoidberg, Hermes, Amy, and the ubiquitous Bender "bending unit" Rodriguez, the much loved supporting cast are all present and correct, from Nibbler through to Morbo (and even pre-Simpsons Groening creation, Binky the one-eared Rabbit).

The gags come thick and fast - and the plot, well, that gets a little confusing. The 80 minute story arc may be hard to swallow for the uninitiated since it concerns time paradoxes and multiple copies of central characters. It might actually work better in the episodic format that Comedy Central intend to show it. Fans, however, will lap up the whole thing in one juicy helping.

So, perhaps this is where Matt Groening's creative talent has been concentrated. It's so much more snappy and adult than the Simpsons which (let's face it) is limping in the manner of an exhausted battle hero. Maybe time to give the yellow guys a few seasons off, eh? It hasn't hurt Futurama.

#Film
#HarrisPilton

1st Dec 2007 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Murcof

Cosmos

Leaf

Music is more often than not, an accompaniment to life rather than life itself. Unlike cinema, music is rarely given our full attention and is what we enjoy while doing something else. Putting your foot down on the open road is made all the more special with Free Bird in your ears or making sweet love to a beautiful woman is made even sweeter if you stick on the new Jamie Foxx LP, but I can't think of a single thing that would or should accompany anything by the mexican electronic maestro Murcof. His work is so subtle that even breathing would serve as a distraction. Since his debut master stroke Martes, Fernando Corona has painstakingly crafted the most emotive and complex electronic constructions and with this his 3rd record he still seems to stand alone in his field.

Less is more with this guy as he erects vast, cavernous soundscapes that surround and envelope you. The infinite emptiness of his sound becomes your world and then, as he drops a pin close to your ear, all your senses stand to attention and you enter a whole new listening experience. He nurtures his rhythms out of the slightest and most delicate sounds, the crackle of vinyl seems like background warmth but soon evolves into beat, accompanied by feint bleeps it tip toes over broad swathes of strings and deep blue percussion. Martes was his masterpiece indeed - a near perfect album it was like listening to the purest maths. It featured expertly sampled classical arrangements that were refracted and sliced with stunning accuracy. The follow up, Rememberanza, was a similar affair. Textural groundwork was painstakingly laid out before us as almost non existent beats were coaxed from what sounded like an orchestra of marching insects. The difference here was the minimal dependance on sampled music as Fernando Corona composed his own string arrangements and the same is seen here on his latest composition Cosmos.

With the opening Cuero Celeste and the following Cielo we see things continue on from where Corona left us 5 years ago. But then with Cosmos 1 things take a drastic turn and Murcof never looks back again. His work has always claimed to describe the physical landscape of his homeland Mexico but from this point on it's clear that a grander intention is being adopted. As the beats fade away in favour of brooding strings the listener takes a gulp as a sound so awesome rises from the dust. This is no longer the depiction of rolling Mexican vistas but the soundtrack to the birth of planets. At an average running time of 9 minutes each the next 4 tracks evolve slowly but surely into compositions of such magnitude that if you've taken my earlier advice of giving this your undivided attention you may want to be careful that you're not buried under this ever rising mass.

It's a daring and focused departure for this musician. He is definitely a man with his eye on his art and this is another uncompromising album. His recent work with film scores is showing its worth here as he moves his music way beyond mere songs into something more ethereal. Since 2004's Utopia EP this was always the direction Corona was heading and Cosmos is an impressive end result but in this grandeur I can't help longing for the delicate crackle of his insect orchestra from days of old and Cosmos does away with this all too swiftly for my liking as if the artist can't wait to move on to bigger plains. You can hardly criticize a musician for this but his earlier sound was so special this new world will take a lot of getting used to.

#Music
#BC

2nd Nov 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Kingdom

(dir. Peter Berg)

Serviceable action thriller with FBI agents Jamie Foxx, Jennifer Garner, Jason Bateman and Chris Cooper finding an excuse to head over to Saudi Arabia to investigate a terrorist attack on a US expat compound.

Starts out with a fairly useful graphic zip through the last 100-odd years of Saudi history: desert, colonial rule, independance, oil, Bin Laden etc. Then we're hit with some cheating terrorists mowing down US citizens playing baseball in their suburban enclave inside "the Kingdom". Our agents know some of the US agents on the ground who get hit - this time it's personal and they're so not going to take "no, that would spark an international incident if we let more official US personnel investigate a crime on Arab soil" for an answer.

From then on, it's pretty much CSI: Arabia, as the quartet use their novel American concepts like "evidence" and "clues" to crack the case, helping out a friendly Saudi investigator along the way. He likes the Hulk and the Six Million $ Man too, so he's OK.

Been catching up on some Arrested Development reruns recently, so it was hard not to find everything Jason Bateman says hilarious, but other than that, the four leads were convincing enough - bantering away, dealing w US and Saudi red tape with good old fashioned straight talking and not being afraid to bend the rules a little when necessary. Good support from Danny Huston and the mighty Jeremy "Ari" Piven too, and there's a little cameo from director Peter Berg at the FBI briefing early on.

All feels a bit superficial ultimately, as if the mere fact of launching some Feds into a topical powderkeg is enough to make some kind of important message about the state of international politics/terrorism/the global interdependency on oil etc etc.

#Film
#chimp71

7th Oct 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Latitude Festival

Henham Park, Southwold, Suffolk

I have always been of the opinion that dysentery is a disease best avoided.  After attending the Latitude Festival however, which took place last weekend in Henham Park, Suffolk, I realise that there may be many of you who are not so fastidious.

By all accounts last year’s festival, the first ever Latitude, was a grand affair; 10,000 people, families welcome (encouraged even), beautiful country park and good music.  Seduced by this proposal I followed a group of friends up the A12 and spent four days in an authentic, if slightly more squalid recreation of an earthquake refugee camp.

I have reached a respectable age and had thus far managed to avoid ever attending a music festival.  As someone who is mildly agoraphobic and plagued by an autistic need to bathe myself once a day, it may not have been a good idea to change the habit of a lifetime. 

With a gleeful wringing of hands the organisers announced on the eve of kick-off that all tickets had been sold.  20,000 people this year but apparently no proportionate increase in the facilities or the size of the arenas.  An excrement mountain due to an inadequate number of toilets; a complete collapse of water pressure and thus showers and overcrowding in several venues was the result.  The heavens took pity and, apart from a couple of heavy showers, blessed the reeking campers with sunshine and merry weather.

Day one; It was all about Wilco.  Two Gallants, Midlake, The Fields, began slowly cranking up the afternoon, but I was already worried that the weekend’s line-up which had looked so promising, might have been a bit heavy on whining and men sincerely frowning over their guitars.  Now Wilco are ostensibly a band of men who frown sincerely over their guitars, but they are also schizophrenic and utterly compelling. 

Before they got on stage I was bored; bored by the many children running around, bored by not being able to bring your own booze into the arena, bored by the crowds packed solidly into the comedy arena sheltering from quite a few boring performances.  The Magic Numbers had bounced the audience around a bit, but I just can’t take the whole beard and siblings thing.  It’s all a bit creepy, inspite of the smiley faces.

Then Wilco walked out and with a great white burn of lights, a heave of the crowd and a wall of guitars, they gave a performance to wake everybody up.  I had seen them in May at Shepherd’s Bush Empire and the hour-long set they played at Latitude shared all the highlights from that night but seemed even more determined.  New album ‘Sky Blue Sky’ got a good outing with storming renditions of ‘Walken’ and ‘Shake it off’.  Albums ‘Yankee Hotel Foxtrot’ and ‘A Ghost Is Born’ also got their hits out; teasing the audience with their gentle melodies before snapping into trademark guitar tsunamis and feedback.  Inspired.

Like a musical dose of Valium, Damien Rice must have been back-stage anxiously waiting to numb the crowd from their Wilco-induced high.  His presence in this otherwise exhilarating line-up was inexplicable and who in the world stayed to listen to him I couldn’t stay - but boy, the rapturous noise they made when he’d finished echoed across the campsite. Most disturbing.

Day two;  Bit of a slow builder again.  Herman Dune and Bat for Lashes on the main stage competed for ‘Sound-alike of the day’.  The Cretin who compared the former ‘to the likes of Bob Dylan’ should be strung up with guitar wire; this blatant Jonathan Richman tribute band are within a Nordic-facial-hair’s breadth of copyright infringement.  As for ‘Bat for lashes’, again the literature describes her as having been ‘compared to Bjork, Cat Power and Tori Amos’.  ‘Derivative of’ might be more accurate. 

Prize for most enthusiastic performance of the festival goes to The Hold Steady’.  They run on stage like a bunch of college jocks and front man Craig Finn, announces, ‘We’re the Hold Steady and we’re here to have a good time!’  It’s the last day of their tour and they are clearly over-excited. ‘Stuck between stations’, ‘Massive Night’, ‘Party Pit’ all provoke a lot of finger pointing form the crowd of forty-something-blokes enjoying some healthy man-rock and working themselves up to a belching coronary.  The band strings out every guitar crescendo and look like they never want to leave.  As Craig says, ‘When we started out it was so we could all meet a couple of nights a week and drink some beer.  This is beyond our wildest dreams’.

If Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, who followed, had had a modicum of The Hold Steady’s energy they would have avoided my nomination for Biggest Disappointment of the weekend.  As it was, my own hands were reluctant to celebrate contrived, gurney, vocals and a dull performance.  If they’d played the CD’s of their two albums I’d have had a great time. 

And so it was that CSS brought their balloons onto the stage of the Obelisk arena and revived a sagging day.  The crowd needed relief and their vacuous dance-pop perked it up like effervescent vitamin C.   ‘Let’s make love (and listen to death from above)’ closed the set.  With helium in her lungs Lovefoxxx squealed out her appreciation to the audience after an hour of cat suited carnival.

The Good the Bad and the Queen had to headline I guess, but it was another strange change of tempo when they ambled on. ‘History Song’ and ‘Herculean’ are unexpectedly ballsy, in no small part due to the contributions of Clash Bassist, Paul Simonon.  He takes control of the stage with loping strides and a brooding presence, plucking at his guitar and sending his deep bass across the crowd like a defibrillator.  A Dickensian London backdrop and a top hat for Mr Albarn seem to court great Blakean comparisons; Songs of Innocence and Experience.  And although he’s a very clever boy, Damon’s a right annoying twat with it.  ‘Soldier’s Tale’ comes with a sanctimonious nod to the ‘Soldier I met who was going to Iraq’ and when he brings on MC Eslam Jawaad for the encore I’m squirming at the smug self-consciousness of it all. 

When the band plays ‘80’s life’ I can’t help but think of the last Blur album, and clearly I’m not the only one musing on this.  In the audience there are a lot of girls grinning.  Occasionally I hear one of them shouting, ‘I want to fuck you Damon’… which suggests that something less than raging Anti-war sentiments were rousing the crowd’s passions.

Day three; My limbs are crippled, caked with filth resulting from the lack of shower facilities.  An internal build up of noxious fumes as I attempt to avoid going to the toilet and asphyxiation by medieval stench when I finally do, have all left me in a bad way.  So far this whole Festival bollocks is proving no substitute for a good three-hour gig at the Brixton Academy.

But that’s ok because today’s line up is looking good.  I was annoyed to miss most of the Andrew Bird set after collapsing with exhaustion from my third toilet trip of the day.  All this hovering above the chasm and straining is traumatizing me.  What I eventually do hear sounds bewitching in the summer afternoon.  The drummer, Dosh (accomplished electro-musician himself), gives fine support to Bird who provides vocals, looping violins, guitars, glockenspiel and goddam fine whistling.

Next up The National, whom I’ve been anticipating like a child waits for Christmas.  But Oh No! What’s this?…. there appears to be confusion on stage.  Look, there are Messrs Dessner, Dessner, Devendorf and Devendorf, but what are they doing spending so long tinkering with their instruments and sticking tape onto everything?  It transpires that The National arrived at Henham Park ten minutes ago and came empty handed.  None of their instruments deigned to suffer the stench of Latitude so they’re having to borrow everything off the Cold War Kids and Andrew Bird.

It shows.  The band look ravaged and uneasy with their purloined Orchestra.  There are great songs in there somewhere; ‘Mistaken for Strangers’ (from their latest album ‘Boxer’), ‘Karen’ (off of ‘Songs for Dirty Lovers’) and ‘Mr November’ (from ‘Alligator’) but there is no subtlety to the sound.  Lyrical contributions from keyboards and violins that make the albums so symphonic and full are totally swamped by the guitars.  Lines like ‘I used to be carried in the arms of a cheerleader’ or ‘The English are coming!’ should by rights swell this audience to a festival frenzy and the lead singer is trying hard.  He rasps ‘I won’t fuck us over!’ with a kind of tortured mania that seems ironically relevant to the shitty day they’re having but it feels like a bit of a lost cause.  Two songs from the end of this too-short set they kick into ‘Fake Empire’ and it’s almost like they get their conviction back.  I get goose bumps with the rhythmic build and the crowd responds, maybe they’ve just warmed up?!  Well they have, but now they’ve got to get off; ‘Thank you very much! I’m glad we got here because half an hour ago it looked like we wouldn’t make it’.  I feel cheated.

The Cold War Kids do well next and The Rapture, like CSS last night, provide a poptastic interlude which the crowds devour.  I sense that a lot of people are getting a bit tired of some of the slightly dour singer-song writing going on and want a sugar rush.  ‘Get myself into it’ and ‘Whoo!  Alright-Yeah… Uh’ do the job and you have to hand it to them, Matt Safer and Luke Jenner know how to handle their audience.  They tease us by walking on and off stage, bounce off each other vocally and insist on being resiliently up beat. 

Jarvis Cocker is on stage next as the sun begins to sink and if you haven’t been able to make it to the Comedy tent, Jarvis provides plenty of star cabaret.  Again, however, there is the sense that everyone would probably rather be watching Pulp, just as last night they would have much preferred Blur to the drones of Damon and his crew.  But Jarvis encapsulated his previous band more singularly than Damon ever did, so if you close your eyes you can almost daydream that…

‘I stand astride these two monitors like the Rock Colossus that I am’, claims the lanky one as he bemuses the crowd with surreal commentaries on the weather.  He then gains our instant favour by empathising with the epic efforts required to have got this far into the Festival.  ‘The world is still run by cunts’, brings his set to an end and those of us who weren’t expecting much are impressed by a run of songs which have never been less than engaging.  Just as I finish clapping and start to, mentally prepare myself for the festival finale with the Arcade Fire, Jarvis reappears;

‘We were going to end there but I just want to play you one more song which I promise this band will never play again’. 

‘What?  A golden slice of Pulp!’, the crowd wonders eagerly, ‘Common People’, ‘Disco 2000’?!…

‘It’s called, the Eye of the Tiger’.

‘What?’

And so off they go.  Jarvis and his band play themselves out with a sparkling cover of Eye of the Tiger and the exhausted crowd smile and cheer their appreciation.

If day one had been all about Wilco, then I guess the whole festival was really about the Sunday night headliners.  I’m sure that anyone reading this would probably take the credit for introducing their friends to the Arcade Fire, probably the most exciting band in the world at present.  But to find yourself in a field with 20,000 people equally convinced that the band are their own private discovery, throws you a little.

The scene is set with a great red velvet backdrop, several oversized Victorian camera props onto which are projected surreal faces in black and white and a lot of red neon.  Tantalizingly the stage is covered with all manner or paraphernalia; hurdy-gurdies, cymbals and the pipes of a great organ.  In the hands of an army of musicians each gets its moment in the limelight during a performance which just keeps getting better.

The husband and wife pairing of Win Butler and Regine Chassagne take it in turns to lead the way on a comprehensive journey through their two albums, Neon Bible and Funeral.  From the pounding urgency of ‘No cars go’ to the swelling Mariachi trumpets of ‘Ocean of Noise’ there is no escaping the band’s persistent inventiveness and passion.  Highlights were aplenty but the Bruce Springsteen coloured tracks ‘Antichrist Television Blues’ and ‘Keep the car running’ were blistering.  Projected onto the backdrop was footage taken from a camera apparently embedded in the snare drum.  Watching a giant drummer beating the rhythm out so relentlessly was mesmerising as the music continued to build, crescendoing in the ‘Power out’ and as a finale, ‘Rebellion (Lies)’.  As the performance came to a close fireworks showered over the back of the audience and someone lit a series of paper lanterns that billowed softly up into the night sky.  The band seemed just as entranced by the moment as they looked out over 20,000 arms clapping in time to the music; ‘Every time you close your eyes’ they sang but we didn’t dare.

If I’m honest I’d have to say that Butler’s voice repeatedly got lost in the roar of the music and I found myself anxious that he was straining to meet the range which his songs demanded in a live performance.  Perhaps I was just distracted by the tuneless moron next to me who insisted on droning loudly and inanely along with the music: and there are a lot of opportunities to accompany the songs of the Arcade Fire with a choice bit of off-key humming. 

Latitude 2007 will be the first and last festival I ever attend.  Three days of crowds, camping and mountains of faeces, book ended by two fantastic performances by Wilco and the genius of Arcade Fire.  If anything it has convinced me to spend a lot more time in the Shepherd’s Bush Empire enjoying whole-hearted performances by some of the great bands who were compromised by poor organisation and shorter sets.  To my mind learning that may have made the whole experience worth it.

Overall experience - 2
Music in general - 3.5
Arcade fire and Wilco - 4.

#Music
#Gig
#LG

19th Jul 2007 - 2 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Spider-Man 3

(dir. Sam Raimi)

in which spidey channels his inner goth, goes a bit emo, battles sandman, venom and the green goblin and the film turns into chicago for a while before sinking into another dreary big battle.

where the first spider-man did an ok job of showing how a nerd like peter parker would learn to love his powers, this one sinks under the 2 villains/girlfriend angst/oh the trouble w being a freelance photographer formula that the second established. lots more cgi fights filled w maximum confusion and zero sense of peril - like all the new gen star wars battles, you just can't work out what's going on/where they are/what way up anyone is etc half the time.

it's also part of the annoying recent trend for making loooooong films where not much happens - and what does, is full of holes. they put on a parade for spidey to give him the keys to the city - but how have they got in touch with him? there's no spidey phone or spidey signal! they clearly aren't just hoping he'll swing by because they've worked out a coordinated little routine for him - but when was that supposed to have been organised?

then there's some daft bit where harry "son of green goblin" osborn gets mj to dump PP so he can get him where it hurts (ooh, in his sensitive heart) - but you've got no idea why she's going along w it - is he threatening her? is she into gg instead? it's all just left hanging, like they didn't have time to explain it - except, they do - they've got 156 min!!!

thomas "sideways" haydn church is sandman, another loser crim who's got the misfortune of stumbling across a random weird science experiment in the middle of some marshes somewhere and inadvertently gaining some powers. but we don't even get to find out who these scientists are or what they think they're doing. it's just, er, yeah, he's got blasted with some stuff, and, er, now he's sandman.

on the plus side, sam raimi main man bruce "evil dead" campbell's cameo is pretty funny, and the bits with daily bugle boss J Jonah Jameson all work. the bit where peter goes all emo side by brushing his hair to the side in the style of my chemical romance is fairly amusing too.

#Film
#chimp71

19th Apr 2007 - Add Comment - Tweet

Wilco

Sky Blue Sky

Nonesuch

As I have previous professed, for me Wilco are one of the best bands operating at the moment. Since I first got hold of their Mermaid Avenue collaboration with Billy Bragg, I tracked back and forth through their output, sucking it all up until I had it all. As a relatively late adopter, I had less of the undying love for the "alt.country" end of things, and for me A Ghost Of Born was the ultimate conclusion of where a band like this was going, leaving me to wonder where they would be heading next.

While Kidsmoke, Hell Is Chrome and the other big show-off tracks on A Ghost Of Born steal the show, they also tend to over-shadow some superb numbers that pop up later in the album, such as Theologians, Late Greats or Company In My Back. With sixth studio album Sky Blue Sky things are on a much more even keel, making for a more subtle record that is beautifully crafted and full of hidden treasure.

Forget the Fleetwood Mac comparisons you might have heard, The Band are your homework reference for this album, with superb musicianship pulling from all sides to make an apparently simple track like You Are My Face into a musical masterpiece -  winding up from ballad to multi-part guitar duel, or to transform the opener Either Way from a sunny-weather ditty to an all-out majestic finale, complete with a string section. Great talent brings great responsibility however, and unfortunately the album suffers from some of the same pitfalls as The Band's work from Stage Fright onwards - with the undoubtedly excellent musicianship sometimes falling short of the emotion needed for it to engage the listener as A Ghost Is Born did - which I suspect may be down to a Iack of trouble in Wilcoworld at the moment. If only Tweedy could get back on the painkillers.

But fear not, Wilco are still a long way from a Steely Dan's sometimes unapproachable studio tan style. The glib opening line of Impossible Germany ("...unlikely Japan") is quickly forgiven as it morphs off into a six minute guitar monster. And if you do find yourself waiting for that trademark emotional crack in Tweedy's vocals,  don't worry - that comes soon enough on title track Sky Blue Sky: "It's good enough for now..."

Man of the match definitely goes to new signing Nels Cllne, who takes the guitar standards of Wilco's previous records to epic new heights. As a former free-wheeling jazz guitarist he has added guitar to projects by Mike Watt, Stephen Perkins' Banyan, Thurston Moore and others - as well as releasing some notable, if meandering solo work (I've seen him live, and had the sore improv jazz buttocks to prove it). Kept on a tight leash by Tweedy's songwriting, which often reins him in, Nels Cline excels - adding a multitude of guitar highlights, from the crisp Stevie Ray Vaughn-esqe solo that rounds off opener Either Way, to the pyrotechnics that take Side With The Seeds from it's deceptively soulful opening to it's barnstorming finale.

Sure, there are a couple of more forgettable tracks, but the power hidden behind the laid back effortlessness of this album will be fully revealed live and I have no doubt that it is only going to get better and better. I'd even go so far as to wager that after seeing this record played live, the track about Jeff cleaning the house (Hate It Here) may be a late favourite. We'll see.

The bottom line is that this is a top-flight band working at the top of their game. On the surface it may seem to have the stumbling style of fan favourite Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, but when listened to next that album it is a far more complex affair. While it might not have the more overt scene-stealing sonic theatrics of the Jim O'Rourke influenced A Ghost Is Born, beneath the surface there are more than a few nods in that direction - notably on the fantastic closing track On And On And On, where the guitar is pipped to the post at the final hurdle by Mikael Jorgensen's keyboards. His Garth Hudson-style Hammond organ adds a steady stream of quality input throughout the album, but on On And On And On it is thrust into the limelight and carries the album home, bringing it back from a minor lull to finish magnificently.

This is a superbly rich record, taking the huge range of previous Wilco output and creaming off the best of all their albums and shaping it into a rich and polished career overview. There is a fluidity, solidity and cohesiveness here that make it an accomplished delight.

#Music
#CSF

16th Apr 2007 - 4 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Borat!: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan

(dir. Larry Charles)

20th Century Fox

Anyone familiar with Borat would no doubt agree that he is the funniest and most outregeous of Sacha Baron Cohen's 3 characters, and during his sections in the Ali G In Da USA show we were appalled and dazzled by his shameless interviews - and much like Ali G his ability to extract the truth from narrow minded middle America. This film is all that, plus a whole lot more. You get the normal encounters with people of such jaw dropping ignorance, culminating in a stadium full of Rodeo fans who cheer passionately when Borat greets them on the mic with words to the effect of "May your president drain the blood of every man, woman and child in Iraq." You get livid feminists, furious commuters, angry aristocrats, man-eating Jews and Pamela Anderson.

Although his TV show was so successful, things like that often fail to translate well onto the big screen - and when stretched to 90 minutes they can become tiresome. But this got it right. The plot was good enough to sustain your attention and formed a believable platform for his comedy. It was a non-stop romp across the U.S and A and the comedy was pushed to it's absolute limit. There were moments of such shock and awe that provided images that will be burned on to my memory for ever. He got himself into situations from which most people would be hard pushed to walk away with their lives, but his masterfully acted naive charm got him through every time. The comedy was relentless and there were countless moments where the audience laughed until they had nothing left. Not all the jokes were necessary though and his constant attack on the Jewish community became too uncomfortable to snigger at towards the end - but it was the visual gags that worked so well, like the shocked faces of New Yorkers as Borat calmly masturbated on the street to a window full of lingerie-clad mannequins, or washed his underpants in Central Park, or opened a suitcase full of chickens on the subway.

It's all pretty stupid stuff and I did feel slightly embarrassed asking for two tickets to Borat when there were such heavyweights to be seen like The Departed or Romanzo Criminale, but who cares - I haven't laughed that much in years and continue to smirk to myself when images of naked male wrestling enter my mind. Pure genius. High Five.

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7th Nov 2006 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Dosh

The Lost Take

The road that Dosh has chosen or is destined to travel is well trodden and as a result can often be perilous. Instrumental hip hop sounds like a good idea but can often fall into the chill out trap and forever condemned to an eternity of middle class diner parties. Fortunately Martin Dosh skillfully avoids these pitfalls and his third full length for Anticon "The Lost Take" is easily his best yet - and actually has no right to be classed as hip hop.

Having started off playing drums in the avant-guard DIY outfit Fog, Dosh released his debut self titled album in 2003 followed by 2004's Pure Trash which featured assistance from Anticon heavy weights Doseone, Jel and Odd Nosdam. With The Lost Take the collaborations are just as frequent but of a different sort. Dosh has cleverly enlisted the help of a plethora of musicians from Fog's Jeremy Ylvisaker, Erik Appelwick from Tapes 'n Tapes and the wonderful violin of Andrew Bird. This is the key to the success of this record. Proficient on most instruments himself, Dosh has created a record that though predominantly drum based is a homage to the art of live orchestration. "Um, Circles And Squares" is the first instance of this dazzling love for music. Here, Bird's strings form a beautiful cushion for Dosh's rolling Rhodes sequences and drum beats. This prepares us for the album highlight of "A Ghosts Business". This could be a scene from a Disney cartoon about the nighttime goings on in a music shop. After the owner leaves the store, the instruments come alive and jam erratically to their hearts content expressing the unbridled freedom that an instrument would if it was locked up in a shop all it's life. As conductor, Dosh makes us think he's lost control of his orchestra - but expertly brings them into line with Prefuse 73 style cutting and pasting.

This track is very important to the album as a whole. Not only does it let us know what this man is capable of, but gives us a valuable insight into the intentions of The Lost Take. Every song after it seems to work better with this knowledge. By enlisting the help of such talents, Dosh creates a rich pallet from which to work his magic. Appelwick's crunching guitar chords give strength to the piano and drums of "MPLS Rock And Roll", making it a triumphant anthem - while his subtle finger picking weaves softly amongst the textural percussion contributing to the delicate warmth of "O Mexico".

I imagine each of the twelve tracks on The Lost Take as an intrepid group of explorers in the old Tarzan movies bravely making their way through the jungle. Comprised predominantly of toffee-nosed British aristocrats and their native bag carriers, they negotiate the perilous mountain path known as "Chill-Out Pass". To lose your footing here would mean plummeting into the raging crocodile infested waters of Hoxton-quiff-sporting-Foxton's employees, hungry to get their soft hands on the next soundtrack to their upcoming Thai fusion themed dinner party. Sadly, not everyone here makes it to safety. "Everybody Cheer Up Song" and the closing sax horror of "The Lost Take" only lose their footing for a second, but that's all it takes on this journey to fall to the depths of mediocrity. But everyone else bravely push on to the other side. Once there, they find the going slightly easier, as a path of sorts has already been forged by people like Four Tet and Prefuse 73, but armed with the brave pioneering Anticon spirit the remaining members of The Lost Take form their own roads through this wilderness to discover new and rich pastures. One would hope that after showing such courage Dosh won't rest on these green and plentiful lands but will strive on to higher ground.

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3rd Nov 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Miami Vice

(dir. Michael Mann)

Following the ratting-out of some FBI agents, Miami Detectives Crockett and Tubbs head deep (deep) undercover to trap the drug traffickers who are responsible. Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx assume the mantle handed down from the classic 80's TV show but, as you've no doubt read elsewhere, this movie bears very little resemblence to that. The focus here was supposed to be realism and action - both of which are delivered in fits and spurts.

The setting and photography of the movie is often superb, such as a night-time shot across the bows of two speedboats heading up a river, or the afterburners lighting up on Crockett's Ferrari as it speeds down a night lit highway. However, the contrast between the intensely grainy night scenes (often shot with mostly 'available' light) and the crystal clear daylight scenes is often jarring.

All of these things could go unnoticed in the movie if at least the script or the acting held things together - but here they are the two weakest areas. There is not a single great performance in the movie to match even Tom Cruise's over-the-top outing in Collateral. Foxx and Farrell (surely they should start an ice cream company?) are both just playing their own movie-star persona - and add little depth or emotion to what could easily have been classic roles.

The script is so thin that I found myself looking for twists, turns and red herrings where there simply were none. There's no subtext here - just straight-up 'text'. The multiple 'love' scenes, (generally with Audioslave accompaniment) were enough to make anyone puke and, while the action scenes are handled well, there's not much that we haven't seen before - most notably in Michael Mann's own films (the shootout in Heat, the nightclub killing in Collateral).

This movie had all (or most) of the necessary ingredients, but just couldn't get the mix right to bake up something special. So disappointing.

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29th Aug 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

Idlewild

(dir. Bryan Barber)

Under The Cherry Moon, The Bodyguard, Swept Away, Glitter… the popstar-to-actor route isn't exactly littered with a long list of great movies. So, even though I've enjoyed Outkast's output over the last few years, I wasn't exactly looking forward to their movie debut.

But they've pulled it off. Idlewild's not without its faults, but in making an old-fashioned musical they've created an enjoyable vehicle that plays to their strengths.

Set in the Prohibition-era South, Big Boi (aka Antwan A. Patton now he's an actor) is a roguish bootleg booze-running club owner/rapper (yup, lots of anachronistic flourishes here) who's a ladeez man/nice guy really. Andre 3000 (aka Andre Benjamin now he's an actor) is a mortician by day/piano player in Big Boi's club at night. A foxy singer shows up, there's a nasty gangster moving in on the action, Big Boi gets trouble from his wife, Dre's getting it from his uptight dad etc…nothing too original in the plot but it works.

Shot by Bryan Barber, who did the videos for The Whole World, Hey Ya! and The Way You Move, it's packed with little animated touches, bursts into choreographed musical numbers every now and then (which is fine, as they are both playing musicians who are singing songs - it's not one of those musicals where they burst into song when they want someone to pass the toast), and lets the Outkast charisma come through.

The music's up to scratch too - basically the Outkast template reworked in an early jazz style - but still using drum machines, rapping, hip hop breaks etc.

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#chimp71

3rd Aug 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou

(dir. Wes Anderson)

With his career fast heading for the rocks, washed up oceanographer/documentalist Steve Zissou (Bill Murray) embarks on one final mission to find, and kill, the rare Jaguar Shark that ate his best friend. And off they set onto the high seas, under the captaincy of the pot-smoking Zissou, the watchful eye of a heavily pregnant reporter (Cate Blanchett), Zissou's soon to be ex-wife (Anjelica Huston) the on board guitarist and his Brazilian Bowie covers, a stiff from the insurance company and a few interns. Joining this crew of bobble-hatted misfits is Ned (Owen Wilson) who may or may not be his son.

Murray invests enough feeling into Zissou to lift him above simply being 'Bill Murray' in amusing costumes, whilst Wilson happily goes toe-to-toe with Murray in their Saharan battle of dry humour. The rest of the cast roll up their sleeves and get stuck into their roles, with Willem Dafoe being particularly excellent (Not something i've said for a while).

Director Wes Anderson now has 4 films under his belt and is yet to put a foot wrong. With his offbeat stories, always imaginatively and colourfully shot, excellent soundtracks and performances, he has achieved that desired goal of creative filmmakers and created a new genre 'A Wes Anderson Film'. Until further reviews are posted, his previous films - Bottle Rocket, Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums are all highly recommended. According to IMDB he's down to make Roald Dahl's Fantastic Mr Fox next - most intriguing.

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11th Apr 2006 - 1 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

Wilco

A Ghost Is Born

The other day during a particularly busy period at work I embarked on a ‘best of Wilco’ playlist and found that every track bar one off their most recent offering had to feature. Except for the 15 minutes of amp hummmmm on track 11 this is a perfect album. The reader may have just taken a sharp intake of breath at that controversial word ‘perfect’ that I just threw in there but I don’t care, I stand by that word.

When I first encountered Wilco they were way out in front on the ever-expanding alt-country scene and were making simple yet great songs. This style seemed to be changing with the release of 2002’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and now with A Ghost Is Born Jeff Tweedy has taken his band into the realms of experimental rock genius. Largely due to the production, courtesy of the mighty Jim O’Rourke, this record sees Wilco turn a very important and difficult corner. From the outset you can see that the agenda has changed here. At Least That’s What You Said is one of the greatest and bravest ways to open an album, it’s soft bitter-sweet vocal intro turns in to 4 minute crunching guitar solo that leaves you breathless and exhausted and the album has only just begun. And if, during Hell Is Chrome, you found yourself relaxing into comfortable Wilco territory Spiders(Kidsmoke) soon jolts you to your feet throwing the alt-country rule book so far out the window you wonder if they ever read it, let alone wrote it. Clocking in at over 10 minutes and with a fantastic electronic beat for a backbone this song sounds more like early Roxy Music than our beloved Wilco with its occasional vocals and screeching, stabbing and totally freeform guitar solos. Then you’ve got Muzzle of Bees, Hummingbird, Handshake Drugs, the list goes on and on and the standard set in the first track is upheld right up to the very last note.

This is the album that convinced me to call my first born child Wilco, boy or girl. I’m just glad I’m not obsessed with ‘Pink Martini.’

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5th Apr 2006 - 3 comments - Add Comment - Tweet

V For Vendetta

(dir. James McTeigue)

Another film mining the genius of Alan Moore. And yet again, it misses the mark and makes you want to read the comic again (or should - if you haven't read it already, it's still worth a look).

This isn't as bad as the League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen or Hellblazer (haven't got round to From Hell yet). Despite a wandering Brit accent, Natalie Portman is basically ok throughout, and Hugo Weaving does a pretty interesting job behind V's mask - thankfully they resist the urge to take it off, Judge Dredd style. As it's copied from a drawing, this is actually one of the better things about the adaptation - it really looks like him.

The main problem is the muddled updating of what was basically a very time-specific attack on Thatcher's Britain. Ian Hurt works as a ranting British fascist, but it somehow seems too easy in a pantomime villain way - the evil dictators we've ended up with in real life smile a lot more.

Having a terrorist as the hero of a mainstream film is obviously going to be "shocking" for the Fox-watching demographic in the states, but the morality is still fairly clear-cut here - he's fighting an evil totalitarian Britain that's anti-gay, anti-Muslim, even anti-film, so it's not too much of a stretch to get us on his side.

The trailer makes it look like it's going to ramp up the Wachiowski-style action, but there's actually not that much - it's a much more static outing than the Matrix (although the philosphy floats closely to that level of debate at times).

Having had a quick scan of the comic again, I'm not sure it's one of my favourite Moore works any more - loved it at the time, but was never that into the art for some reason, and he's done so much that's better since - and admits as much in the accompanying essay. Watchmen's still the obvious work of unparalleled class, but his recent stuff for ABC has been great too - Top Ten, Promethea and Tom Strong especially.

It's also worth noting that Moore's been hardcore about his insistence that his name isn't anywhere on the film. Check his wiki entry for a lowdown on the on-going feud. He doesn't even get paid for having his work bastardised.

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8th Mar 2006 - Add Comment - Tweet