So what do you do with a band that breaks up before it gets a chance to record it’s debut album? Who’s frontman has such an artistic change of heart before he realises he has a successful music career that the rest of the band decide to bugger off? Who’s early punky demo tapes are collected together post-break-up to form a seminal LP masterpiece?
I dunno, listen and enjoy them I guess :o)
The career of The Modern Lovers aka Jonathan Richman & The Modern lovers aka Jonathan Richman could be seen as one lacking in direction due to an ego-maniac of a frontman, but Jonathan Richman is a wide-eyed, childlike, gentle-giant sort who’s voice makes him sound like a cool indie rocker but who’s heart yearns for softer acoustic melodies and a peaceful existence.
The excitement of youth may have caused him to make an initial wrong step, but luckily for us that wrong step just happened to be amazing. The not-a-debut-album debut album is a fantastic Velvet Underground/The Stooges flavoured new-wave/punk classic and I’m loving the live album that I’ve found on Spotify too.
I’m not sure if I’ll get into Jonathan Richman’s Spanish styled acoustic "solo" stuff (was there ever really a band?), but I’m becoming more and more fascinated by the man: a bundle of contradictions who nobody seems to be able to define.
Here are some nice interviews with him that really reveal the sort of warm person he is:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJG4bQxVIHM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o7mHg0H6sy8
A few music clips:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TDJShMk-r88
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJUY3q3xaWY
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjFU98mEem4
Very inspiring stuff :o)
Saturday, 17 April 2010
Wednesday, 7 April 2010
Watchmen - film review
There comes a time in many people’s lives when a sense of confusion about the nature of things overwhelms them. This might strike during childhood, teenage years, early adulthood, middle ages or beyond. It derives from that fundamental fear that in a vast, seemingly limitless universe what is the meaning and point to our lives, and why should we carry on through struggle and strife?
One point of view could be that in relation to the cosmos our lives are a pure accident. We are alive because our planet is this size, is this close to the sun and has gases around it that make it habitable. What we do with our lives, good or bad, has no real meaning. All plants and creatures are on this planet purely to serve their own regeneration, everything is about surviving to reproduce…. be it tree, flower, weed, ant, cat, dog or human, we simply are here to exist. There is no grand scheme or design to it all which will be revealed after we are gone.
The character of Dr Manhattan in Watchmen is grappling with this very point himself and, now gifted with superhuman ability, has become emotionally, morally and physically detached from humanity and Earth by the coldly logical answer. He sees misery and suffering and the prospect of more to come but cannot understand why either state really matters. On a long enough timeline everything becomes dust, why is it so important how it got there?
Watchmen has three main functions. The first is as a domestic drama involving masked heroes, vigilantes if you will, who’s glory days have come and gone. The second is as a fairly standard good versus evil popcorn pot-boiler, replete with cool gadgets and an impressive villain’s lair in which to stage a grand finale and showdown. The third is to pose that key philosophical question about he meaning of existence.
It’s worth watching on all three counts and is brave indeed for daring to provide food for thought for it’s viewers and risk a drop in ticket sales.
Unfortunately however, and I wish I didn’t have to say this, but the level of horrific violence displayed throughout does well to stop the viewer from truly empathising with it’s main protagonists... good or bad. This point may very well keep it from becoming a true classic. Then again, maybe the level of violence is, in itself, part of the philosophising that is at the heart of Watchmen.
One point of view could be that in relation to the cosmos our lives are a pure accident. We are alive because our planet is this size, is this close to the sun and has gases around it that make it habitable. What we do with our lives, good or bad, has no real meaning. All plants and creatures are on this planet purely to serve their own regeneration, everything is about surviving to reproduce…. be it tree, flower, weed, ant, cat, dog or human, we simply are here to exist. There is no grand scheme or design to it all which will be revealed after we are gone.
The character of Dr Manhattan in Watchmen is grappling with this very point himself and, now gifted with superhuman ability, has become emotionally, morally and physically detached from humanity and Earth by the coldly logical answer. He sees misery and suffering and the prospect of more to come but cannot understand why either state really matters. On a long enough timeline everything becomes dust, why is it so important how it got there?
Watchmen has three main functions. The first is as a domestic drama involving masked heroes, vigilantes if you will, who’s glory days have come and gone. The second is as a fairly standard good versus evil popcorn pot-boiler, replete with cool gadgets and an impressive villain’s lair in which to stage a grand finale and showdown. The third is to pose that key philosophical question about he meaning of existence.
It’s worth watching on all three counts and is brave indeed for daring to provide food for thought for it’s viewers and risk a drop in ticket sales.
Unfortunately however, and I wish I didn’t have to say this, but the level of horrific violence displayed throughout does well to stop the viewer from truly empathising with it’s main protagonists... good or bad. This point may very well keep it from becoming a true classic. Then again, maybe the level of violence is, in itself, part of the philosophising that is at the heart of Watchmen.
Thursday, 1 April 2010
"Humbug" - Arctic Monkeys
Eeee, something approaching a proper review from me at last....
----
Who would have guessed that the gothic-tinged “Perhaps Vampires Is A Bit Strong But” from the Arctic Monkeys’ debut album would light the way for their eventual artistic embodiment. It was a song that stood out amidst a collection of urban breast-beaters and hinted at an already keen sense of moving-on…. after all, whilst we’re guessing what’ll be the next single from their recent album they’re already firing off demos of their next dozen.
Humbug is an album for lovers of a good old croon. Down go the frenzied twin guitar riffs and up go the atmospherics. Alex Turner spends much of the album with the microphone in his hand rather than a white Stratocaster and smoothly draws the listener into a world of basement bars and velvet lounges. Had the album closed with a cover of “My Way” then not many punters would be left feeling short-changed.
The corrosive scent of unrequited dance-floor lust and domestic violence that flavoured their first two albums becomes a sour mist of seedy encounters with black-market poison merchants and dominating sex fiends. The band has flung aside their modesty and embraced a more primal side….. surely not the actions of a bunch of meek indie chancers?
Humbug won’t hot your heels on the way to work, but it’ll make a good accompaniment to a rainy night on the sofa with a glass of scotch.
You said it, Frankie.
----
Who would have guessed that the gothic-tinged “Perhaps Vampires Is A Bit Strong But” from the Arctic Monkeys’ debut album would light the way for their eventual artistic embodiment. It was a song that stood out amidst a collection of urban breast-beaters and hinted at an already keen sense of moving-on…. after all, whilst we’re guessing what’ll be the next single from their recent album they’re already firing off demos of their next dozen.
Humbug is an album for lovers of a good old croon. Down go the frenzied twin guitar riffs and up go the atmospherics. Alex Turner spends much of the album with the microphone in his hand rather than a white Stratocaster and smoothly draws the listener into a world of basement bars and velvet lounges. Had the album closed with a cover of “My Way” then not many punters would be left feeling short-changed.
The corrosive scent of unrequited dance-floor lust and domestic violence that flavoured their first two albums becomes a sour mist of seedy encounters with black-market poison merchants and dominating sex fiends. The band has flung aside their modesty and embraced a more primal side….. surely not the actions of a bunch of meek indie chancers?
Humbug won’t hot your heels on the way to work, but it’ll make a good accompaniment to a rainy night on the sofa with a glass of scotch.
You said it, Frankie.
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