Lists and music: a very good match.
My best friend and me sat down to list our ten favourite albums in pop, rock and indie music. Classical, jazz and blues albums were not included.
This was my list:
1.. REM – Murmur
2.. Leonard Cohen – The Future
3.. 16 Horsepower – Low Estate
4.. Moloko – Things to Make and Do
5.. Deus – In a Bar under the Sea
6.. Nine Inch Nails – Pretty Hate Machine
7.. Lucinda Williams – West
8.. Sparklehorse – Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain
9.. Jim White – No Such Place
10. Camera Obscura – Biggest Bluest Hifi
And this was hers:
1.. U2 – Achtung Baby
2.. Kate Bush – The Dreaming
3.. Lou Reed – Magic and Loss
4.. Nirvana – Nevermind
5.. Sonic Youth – Dirty
6.. Heather Nova – Blow
7.. Suzanne Vega – 99,9 F
8.. Joni Mitchell – Blue
9.. Tori Amos – Boys for Pele
10. Babes in Toyland – Fontanelle
The band Therapy? very unluckily ended as number eleven on both mine (“Troublegum”) and hers (“Infernal Love”).
Monday, August 13, 2007
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
A young man who stopped being average
Halfway Paul Auster’s postmodern detective story Ghosts, protagonist “Blue” dresses up as a tramp and calls himself Jimmy Rose. His disguise includes ‘a flowing white beard and long white hair’. This is the effect:
“These final details give him the look of an old testament prophet. Blue as Jimmy Rose is not a scrofulous down-and-outer so much as a wise fool, a saint of penury living in the margins of society.”
To describe Blue’s disguise in these words is kind of a wry joke. In the past months, the real Blue has come to resemble such a fool more and more, ‘living in the margins of society’.
Initially, in February 1947, he was your perfect average guy, content to live the life carved out for him. Ok, he was a private detective, that’s a bit unusual. But he was a very sensible one, level-headed, down-to-earth. He expected to marry his girfriend and settle down, just like everybody else. He would certainly not question his life.
But then he stumbled upon a real strange assignment. For months he was to sit in a small rented room, spying on the man across the street, named “Black”. Black, living in a similar room, did nothing but read and write. So Blue’s life slowed down dramatically: no chases, no danger, no excitement. Many times he could only report: Black is still writing.
This unsettles Blue. He starts brooding and worrying over things that never troubled him before. His girlfriend and his old supervisor become strangers to him. He grows obsessed with Black’s ‘real thoughts’. Ironically he clipped out a newspaper article at the beginning of the story, about a man with a similar obsession. On an enclosed photograph the man was portrayed: ‘The look in his eyes is so haunted and imploring that Blue can scarcely turn his own eyes away.’ A few months later, Blue could well look the same.
This tragic story about Blue’s downfall was one of Auster’s first (1986). He would write many more about average individuals who stop being average. The thing that disrupts them varies. It can be a nearly fatal disease (Oracle Night), a large inheritance (The Music of Chance) or a plane crash killing off one’s wife and children (The Book of Illusions). Every time the protagonist becomes an outcast.
So what about all these outcasts? Maybe the point is just that it can happen to anybody. Or perhaps we are to realise that outcasts may teach us something, just like the bible’s prophets. Then again, Ghosts could be a defense of the writer’s profession. Writers just sit in a room and write. An easy life? After his strange assignment Blue knows better.
By the way, Paul Auster's Jimmy Rose is probably named after Melville's, another outcast, starring in the 1855 short story of the same name.
“These final details give him the look of an old testament prophet. Blue as Jimmy Rose is not a scrofulous down-and-outer so much as a wise fool, a saint of penury living in the margins of society.”
To describe Blue’s disguise in these words is kind of a wry joke. In the past months, the real Blue has come to resemble such a fool more and more, ‘living in the margins of society’.
Initially, in February 1947, he was your perfect average guy, content to live the life carved out for him. Ok, he was a private detective, that’s a bit unusual. But he was a very sensible one, level-headed, down-to-earth. He expected to marry his girfriend and settle down, just like everybody else. He would certainly not question his life.
But then he stumbled upon a real strange assignment. For months he was to sit in a small rented room, spying on the man across the street, named “Black”. Black, living in a similar room, did nothing but read and write. So Blue’s life slowed down dramatically: no chases, no danger, no excitement. Many times he could only report: Black is still writing.
This unsettles Blue. He starts brooding and worrying over things that never troubled him before. His girlfriend and his old supervisor become strangers to him. He grows obsessed with Black’s ‘real thoughts’. Ironically he clipped out a newspaper article at the beginning of the story, about a man with a similar obsession. On an enclosed photograph the man was portrayed: ‘The look in his eyes is so haunted and imploring that Blue can scarcely turn his own eyes away.’ A few months later, Blue could well look the same.
This tragic story about Blue’s downfall was one of Auster’s first (1986). He would write many more about average individuals who stop being average. The thing that disrupts them varies. It can be a nearly fatal disease (Oracle Night), a large inheritance (The Music of Chance) or a plane crash killing off one’s wife and children (The Book of Illusions). Every time the protagonist becomes an outcast.
So what about all these outcasts? Maybe the point is just that it can happen to anybody. Or perhaps we are to realise that outcasts may teach us something, just like the bible’s prophets. Then again, Ghosts could be a defense of the writer’s profession. Writers just sit in a room and write. An easy life? After his strange assignment Blue knows better.
By the way, Paul Auster's Jimmy Rose is probably named after Melville's, another outcast, starring in the 1855 short story of the same name.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
What dying on Iwo Jima is like
Of course we all know that war is a very bad thing, and I would certainly not credit a movie for shouting this blatant truth into my ears. But "Letters from Iwo Jima" is not like that: it's a well-told, beautifully shot and subtle movie about ordinary people who are trapped on an island, facing fearful odds against an enormous fleet that stretches out to the horizon.
The ones being trapped are a division of Japanese soldiers, entrenched in the barren soil of Iwo Jima, in 1944, and the enormous fleet obviously belongs to the Americans.
Yet, the Americans are not just enemies. At least not for the general of the Japanese, who studied in the USA and has close American friends. Towards the end of the movie he reads aloud a letter of an American pow to his Japanese men. It’s a touching letter, proving the American to be a lot like themselves. The general attains his object: ‘I thought Americans were monsters,’ says one of his men, ‘but they are not.’
However, the movie luckely doesn’t want us, or the japanese, to believe that americans are nothing but noble – next thing we see are two of them killing off some japanese pow’s.
Appearances are deceptive: this might be the film’s motto. We get to know some japanese soldiers a little better, through flash-backs and their letters, which are (I think) real historical documents. Gradually we need to adjust our ideas of their characters, as the coward appears not so cowardly and the ruthless one proves not so ruthless.
But then again, one thing is clear as can be: war really is a very bad thing. This movie’s stylish bleak imagery may not hammer its message into the audience, but it speaks all the louder.
The ones being trapped are a division of Japanese soldiers, entrenched in the barren soil of Iwo Jima, in 1944, and the enormous fleet obviously belongs to the Americans. Yet, the Americans are not just enemies. At least not for the general of the Japanese, who studied in the USA and has close American friends. Towards the end of the movie he reads aloud a letter of an American pow to his Japanese men. It’s a touching letter, proving the American to be a lot like themselves. The general attains his object: ‘I thought Americans were monsters,’ says one of his men, ‘but they are not.’
However, the movie luckely doesn’t want us, or the japanese, to believe that americans are nothing but noble – next thing we see are two of them killing off some japanese pow’s.
Appearances are deceptive: this might be the film’s motto. We get to know some japanese soldiers a little better, through flash-backs and their letters, which are (I think) real historical documents. Gradually we need to adjust our ideas of their characters, as the coward appears not so cowardly and the ruthless one proves not so ruthless.
But then again, one thing is clear as can be: war really is a very bad thing. This movie’s stylish bleak imagery may not hammer its message into the audience, but it speaks all the louder.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Relief
The backyard of the cathedral was a garden as well as a graveyard.
Nobody was there, except for me. Suddenly I found myself in a private space. The garden walls prevented me from being seen from the street.
Well, alone… I was surrounded by a wild abundance of trees and plants and flowers. In between were grass pathways and some gray headstones.
The place welcomed me, like a mother, or maybe like a masseur whose gonna relief your back ache. Except it wasn’t my back that needed relief, it was my heart.
All these hours among strange, foreign and very high-brow people – I needed a moment of relaxation.
When I had walked around for maybe fifteen minutes, I saw a young girl entering the place. She didn’t notice me, because of the plants between us. Her face was weary, but when she sat down on a bench, I saw it relaxing. She seemed relieved, just like I had been fifteen minutes ago.
I watched her for a minute and then quietly left the garden, leaving it all to her.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Floating around in Music Movie Heaven
Ok, fasten your seatbelts, this will be the first list on this blog.
And I tell you what: it offers a complete musical education.
• Seven ages of rock (BBC 2007)
• No direction home: Bob Dylan (Martin Scorcese 2005)
• Beethoven, with Charles Hazlewood (BBC, 2005)
• Jazz, by Ken Burns (2001)
To be honest i didn't like all of Seven Ages. The Punk and Britpop episodes were ruined by dreadful ‘looking back’ interviews. Johnny of the Sex Pistols kept on saying that it was ‘just fun’ to… Yeah, to what really? He didn’t manage to put into words how he had actually experienced things, he just repeated the same old ‘do it yourself’ and ‘fuck it all’ ideology that happened to be fashionable in 1976. The so-called experts in additional interviews turned out to be no more than fans, just offering their admiration.
Still, it was chilling to see how their American tour ended: Johnny on his knees, performing just one song (‘no fun’ by The Stooges), ending it with a repetitive ‘no fun, no fun’, exhausted, yet half ashamed towards the audience (‘I’m a lazy bastard’). So, in spite of his lame interview, Johnny was kinda touching. This can't be said of Noel Callagher, who, bragging about charts and money, was really only annoying and boring. Yet his episode (Britpop) did contain some nice footage of The Smiths.
The episodes I liked best were Early Rock and Alternative. Early Rock links up the stories of Jimi Hendrix, king of psychedelic rock, and the british ‘white blues’ invasion of Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck. Also, we see Jimi performing songs of The Beatles and Bob Dylan, turning them into something really Jimi-like. The Alternative episode first follows R.E.M. touring for years, right alongside their hardcore counterparts Black Flag. Eventually famous REM and upcoming Nirvana get to befriend eachother, with Michael Stipe fruitlessly trying to lift up suicidal Kurt Cobain. Not a cheerful story, but well-told, insightfull and moving.
The other three episodes covered Art Rock, Metal and Stadium Rock, all really enjoyable.
What to say about No Direction Home: it’s famous. The part I like best is where the folkies condemn Bob for turning ‘rock’, one of them actually swinging an axe at his electrical gear. Unbelievable.
The Beethoven documentary (also known as The genius of Beethoven) is partly dramatised, partly narrated by Charles Hazlewood. The fake interviews with Beethoven’s contemporaries (his brother, his mentor Haydn etc etc) are historicly quite convincing, yet accessible. This dark Beethoven story is much, much better then Hazlewood’s cheerful yet shallow film on Mozart, however more popular the latter seems to have been (according to some IMDB comments).
Then, the Ken Burns’ Jazz story, a monster-size documentary. Right from the beginning I was struck by its power to evoke historical sensations. It weaves together old footage, pictures, recordings and citations, along with expert interviews, some interviews with personally involved people who are now very old, and a narrating voice tying it all up. It made me understand much better not only jazz muzic but also, well, ‘black experience’ in America.
Pfew, now I have to rest, these strenuous memorising efforts have exhausted me. If you go see these docs, don’t forget to come back and tell me what you thought of them.
And I tell you what: it offers a complete musical education.
• Seven ages of rock (BBC 2007)
• No direction home: Bob Dylan (Martin Scorcese 2005)
• Beethoven, with Charles Hazlewood (BBC, 2005)
• Jazz, by Ken Burns (2001)
To be honest i didn't like all of Seven Ages. The Punk and Britpop episodes were ruined by dreadful ‘looking back’ interviews. Johnny of the Sex Pistols kept on saying that it was ‘just fun’ to… Yeah, to what really? He didn’t manage to put into words how he had actually experienced things, he just repeated the same old ‘do it yourself’ and ‘fuck it all’ ideology that happened to be fashionable in 1976. The so-called experts in additional interviews turned out to be no more than fans, just offering their admiration.
Still, it was chilling to see how their American tour ended: Johnny on his knees, performing just one song (‘no fun’ by The Stooges), ending it with a repetitive ‘no fun, no fun’, exhausted, yet half ashamed towards the audience (‘I’m a lazy bastard’). So, in spite of his lame interview, Johnny was kinda touching. This can't be said of Noel Callagher, who, bragging about charts and money, was really only annoying and boring. Yet his episode (Britpop) did contain some nice footage of The Smiths.
The episodes I liked best were Early Rock and Alternative. Early Rock links up the stories of Jimi Hendrix, king of psychedelic rock, and the british ‘white blues’ invasion of Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck. Also, we see Jimi performing songs of The Beatles and Bob Dylan, turning them into something really Jimi-like. The Alternative episode first follows R.E.M. touring for years, right alongside their hardcore counterparts Black Flag. Eventually famous REM and upcoming Nirvana get to befriend eachother, with Michael Stipe fruitlessly trying to lift up suicidal Kurt Cobain. Not a cheerful story, but well-told, insightfull and moving.
The other three episodes covered Art Rock, Metal and Stadium Rock, all really enjoyable.
What to say about No Direction Home: it’s famous. The part I like best is where the folkies condemn Bob for turning ‘rock’, one of them actually swinging an axe at his electrical gear. Unbelievable.
The Beethoven documentary (also known as The genius of Beethoven) is partly dramatised, partly narrated by Charles Hazlewood. The fake interviews with Beethoven’s contemporaries (his brother, his mentor Haydn etc etc) are historicly quite convincing, yet accessible. This dark Beethoven story is much, much better then Hazlewood’s cheerful yet shallow film on Mozart, however more popular the latter seems to have been (according to some IMDB comments).
Then, the Ken Burns’ Jazz story, a monster-size documentary. Right from the beginning I was struck by its power to evoke historical sensations. It weaves together old footage, pictures, recordings and citations, along with expert interviews, some interviews with personally involved people who are now very old, and a narrating voice tying it all up. It made me understand much better not only jazz muzic but also, well, ‘black experience’ in America.
Pfew, now I have to rest, these strenuous memorising efforts have exhausted me. If you go see these docs, don’t forget to come back and tell me what you thought of them.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Barack exploring people's sacred stories
Recently I finished Barack Obama’s memoire, first published in 1995, called Dreams from my Father. I like the way he analyses his own and other people’s identities. For himself as a highschool kid on Hawaii two things were important: being black in a white country and having, in spite of being black, a white mother. This tended to be a little confusing. As he grows up, gets educated and immerses himself in social work, he gradually shifts his attention to the way other people see themselves:
“beneath the small talk and sketchy biographies and received opinions, people carried within them some central explanation of themselves. Stories full of terror and wonder, studded with events that still haunted or inspired them. Sacred stories.” (p 190)
Working in a torn apart black Chicago neighbourhood, he tries to connect people’s individual stories with their collective problems: how come so many black people fail to get ahead? Thinking about this question he manages to avoid the easy, big picture, large scale generalisations. ‘Contradictory experiences’ and ‘the messy reality of history’ are among his favorite expressions.
Eventually his own identity knocks on the door again. He never knew his father, who was a black man from Kenya. Now seems the time to visit his family over there. The Kenyan trip will indeed proof a spiritual revelation to him, a confirmation of his suspicion that blacks in America should turn to their African roots for inspiration and cultural pride.
In this third, African part of the book Barack ‘lost’ me a few times: his enthousiasm sometimes seemed to overshadow his subtility. Towards the end one passage really annoyed me. Barack meets his half-brother Mark. Unlike Barack, Mark doesn’t need his African roots. He likes Shakespeare and Beethoven, in other words: hard-core white culture. Of course Barack remains polite, but it’s clear from the narrative that he disaproves of Mark, feels alienated and disappointed towards him.
I don’t understand that. Surely a black American is not obliged to seek salvation in Africa, is he? Mark can be touched and uplifted by whatever culture he wants. It’s a free country, Barack.
“beneath the small talk and sketchy biographies and received opinions, people carried within them some central explanation of themselves. Stories full of terror and wonder, studded with events that still haunted or inspired them. Sacred stories.” (p 190)
Working in a torn apart black Chicago neighbourhood, he tries to connect people’s individual stories with their collective problems: how come so many black people fail to get ahead? Thinking about this question he manages to avoid the easy, big picture, large scale generalisations. ‘Contradictory experiences’ and ‘the messy reality of history’ are among his favorite expressions.
Eventually his own identity knocks on the door again. He never knew his father, who was a black man from Kenya. Now seems the time to visit his family over there. The Kenyan trip will indeed proof a spiritual revelation to him, a confirmation of his suspicion that blacks in America should turn to their African roots for inspiration and cultural pride.
In this third, African part of the book Barack ‘lost’ me a few times: his enthousiasm sometimes seemed to overshadow his subtility. Towards the end one passage really annoyed me. Barack meets his half-brother Mark. Unlike Barack, Mark doesn’t need his African roots. He likes Shakespeare and Beethoven, in other words: hard-core white culture. Of course Barack remains polite, but it’s clear from the narrative that he disaproves of Mark, feels alienated and disappointed towards him.
I don’t understand that. Surely a black American is not obliged to seek salvation in Africa, is he? Mark can be touched and uplifted by whatever culture he wants. It’s a free country, Barack.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Oh why not admit it...
A quiz about religion, yum. My results:
"You scored as Scientific Atheist. These guys rule. I'm not one of them myself, although I play one online. They know the rules of debate, the Laws of Thermodynamics, and can explain evolution in fifty words or less. More concerned with how things ARE than how they should be, these are the people who will bring us into the future."
What kind of atheist are you?
created with QuizFarm.com
"You scored as Scientific Atheist. These guys rule. I'm not one of them myself, although I play one online. They know the rules of debate, the Laws of Thermodynamics, and can explain evolution in fifty words or less. More concerned with how things ARE than how they should be, these are the people who will bring us into the future."
Scientific Atheist | 92% | ||
Apathetic Atheist | 50% | ||
Spiritual Atheist | 50% | ||
Angry Atheist | 33% | ||
Agnostic | 25% | ||
Theist | 17% | ||
Militant Atheist | 8% |
What kind of atheist are you?
created with QuizFarm.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
