The Necks in Warsaw, 19.04

Now that I have finally seen them live, I know for certain: these three are the only three musicians in the world who could be doing what they are doing. While this may not be a unique thought, I had never felt it as strongly as I did last week in Warsaw. The degree of idiosyncratic chemistry, of sheer professionalism, was such that any tiny moment of distraction on my part seemed like a terrible waste of time.

A Necks live performance does not feature too many songs. This night in the grand but intimate setting of the Concert Studio of Polish Radio they played two extended hour-long pieces separated by a brief intermission. Famously, a live piece by The Necks starts as a very quiet, minimalist, jazzy piano melody augmented by a subtle drum roll and a barely audible bass line. It is fragile and slightly unnerving but also hypnotic. This initial groove never really goes away. Rather, it grows in intensity and acquires new details, constantly, over the next thirty minutes or so. These details are sometimes very slight but let your thoughts take you away for a short while and you will suddenly notice that the groove is much wilder now, and fuller, and louder. Look closer, and you will see that the double bass is currently being played with a huge bow.

                                                                                                   photo: Krystyna Kubacka-Góral

There will be many twists and turns before we reach the ending but to me the most exciting bit is this lengthy denouement, the part when they start to unwind and deconstruct the groove. All of a sudden, there is a new beauty that you had previously missed. Slowly but assuredly, the music begins to subside while never giving up any of its insane technicality. The groove is just as tight as ever. The groove is totally controlled, and I cannot even begin to imagine how much stamina it all requires from the musicians. Actually, the final few minutes reminded me of a story I once read about The Who's shows in the late 1970s. During one of those, Keith Moon passed out onstage due to drugs or alcohol and they had to find a replacement in the audience. A young drummer climbed onto the stage and managed to hold the beat for a song or two before succumbing to exhaustion. Well, I can't imagine anyone doing a minute of this Necks stuff. It is totally breathless. 

The New York Times once called The Necks the most powerful trio in the world, and while I have always loved these Australians (hard to say how many times I must have heard LPs like Hanging Gardens or Aether), it took this live performance to really drive home the point. I do not know how much of it is improvisation (I'm guessing none of it) but the whole thing sounds incredibly tight and professional. Interestingly, while technically this is quite impeccable, there is an emotional substance to them. Sooner or later, the beauty gets through. Genre-wise, what they do is mostly jazz but there are also distinct rock and classical overtones. Speaking of the latter, some of the elegant piano lines reminded me of classical minimalists like Satie or Debussy. 

Admittedly, I often treat The Necks as great background music for writing (again, it would be hard to say how many pages I have written listening to Three during the Covid times) - they have this tight, driving rhythm that rarely gets in the way of your thinking. However, seeing these three ordinary-looking men take the places on that vast, empty stage (occupied by nothing but their instruments) created a new sensation in me. They had my undivided attention, and they held it all the way through. There was a lovely complexity to their music, but there was also something greatly appealing about it. Breathlessly, I spent the whole evening watching how effortlessly they go from quiet and unobtrusive to wild and absolutely mind-blowing. A once in a lifetime experience, and quite unlike anything I had ever seen. 

Godspeed You! Black Emperor in Warsaw, 14.04

How many crescendos can you take in one evening?

Quite a lot, as it turns out. When Godspeed You! Black Emperor got into the last crescendo of the night, that of "The Sad Mafioso", I had a strong feeling that I could take on the devil. Drained both physically and emotionally, I suddenly realised that I was getting locked into some endless loop together with the band and the audience (a loop as haunting and breathtaking as the one that ends the vinyl version of their debut). It was a great feeling. It was, too, all you ever wanted from a live concert. 

And "The Sad Mafioso" was not even the last performance of the night. Miraculously, GY!BE did something they almost never do. They performed a song as an encore: "Moya", the side-long classic from their Slow Riot For New Zero Kanada EP. Another crescendo, then, and I distinctly remember breathing out, heavily, at the very end. My stomach was cramped and too much tension had stuffed my chest.

That the concert of Godspeed You! Black Emperor in the Warsaw club Progresja ended up being one of the three or four best in my life was hardly shocking. The Canadian band is known for the intense grandiosity of their live performances. Unsurprisingly, it was every bit as good as I had hoped it would be. Efrim Menuck and the rest (GY!BE are an eight-piece live, including no less than two drummers) built it all up, again and again, the songs smouldered and evolved, and by the end of it a young guy in front of me was contorting ecstatically on the floor. 

Basically, what you get from them in concert is their studio recordings - albeit expanded and amplified. Live, you are able to inhabit them, not just listen. You see them mine noise from beauty and beauty from noise. You can see Sophie Trudeau doing endless bow-runs on her violin. You can smell the fucking chords. It is aural bliss. Visual, too, as each piece is accompanied by a huge screen with obscure, jittery projections of flowers blooming, buildings burning and an old man dancing. There is also, at the very beginning, the word "hope" as they slowly but intently get you into the right kind of mood with the eerily beautiful warm-up drone. 

Last night, they did a piece each from Lift Your Skinny Fists, F♯ A♯ ∞, G_d's Pee at State's End! and Slow Riot. They also did three new songs from the upcoming album (still unannounced). And it all went for more than two exhausting hours, which is something I cannot quite explain. What is it about the Polish audience that makes Nick Cave play "The Weeping Song" for the first and only time during a tour? That makes GY!BE play for 30+ minutes longer in Warsaw than they did the previous night in Vilnius? And do an encore, too, a thing almost unheard of during their concerts? That said, there may have been a hint dropped during "The Sad Mafioso" when, totally unexpectedly, Polish audience started to sing along to an especially haunting section of the song. I guess this could not go unnoticed.

I have always believed that great art happens when everything else ceases to matter - all you are left with is a canvas, or a melody. Which is what happened last night, while Godspeed You! were playing in Warsaw. The world died, and all that mattered was this particular live performance. The world died, and it was like you were inhabiting the words that famously start F♯ A♯ ∞: "The car is on fire, and there is no driver at the wheel...". And what a sweet death that is. 

Album of the Month: THE MESSTHETICS AND JAMES BRANDON LEWIS

Generally I do not like the idea of reviewing jazz next to popular music. After all, how do you place Bob Dylan alongside John Coltrane? I love both of them dearly, but there is just something that makes these genres exist on two entirely different plains. This time, however, I totally give in to the urge as this album goes well beyond genre constraints. This is a collaboration between an American jazz saxophonist and former members of Fugazi. 'Wildly intriguing' is the least that you can say about that.

I shudder at the idea of jazz rock. Mercifully, The Messthetics and James Brandon Lewis LP is not that. It is what it is: adventurous avant-garde jazz with an intense Fugazi rhythm section. The album has so much edge to its sound that it bleeds profusely all over the place and yet manages to keep everything extremely tight.

The album opens with "L'Orso" that sets the tone perfectly with great musicianship and a melody that builds up all the time and sometimes ventures into an ominous King Crimson territory. Then comes the single "Emergence" and this just may be my favourite piece of music from 2024. Three minutes of heart-pumping intensity whose sax-screeching climax is pure punk bliss. The second single is "That Thing" with an unforgettable riff that makes me think of a Moroccan bazaar in the middle of an African desert. Things calm down a little on "Three Sisters" with, again, some beautiful interplay and intensity bubbling under the surface. 

"Boatly" is one of the album's biggest highlights. A swirling, ballad-like composition with a memorable instrumental hook and a floating melody that stops in the middle and becomes this enchanting guitar-driven coda with sax, bass and drums piling up beautifully until the very end. "The Time Is The Place" is slightly less distinctive but nevertheless features some frenetic Fugazi-like sections. "Railroad Trucks Home" has a lot more restraint to it and gets by on a memorable soft rhythm that could be the most traditional thing on the whole album. After the brief but pretty interlude "Asthenia" we reach the end with the brilliant "Fourth Wall" that is built entirely on this part-beautiful/part-sinister Messthetics' groove that erupts occasionally with guitar and sax solos.

Interestingly, I am rarely in the mood to listen to Fugazi albums. When I do, they always sound great but their charms are mostly intellectual rather than emotional. This album (released by the legendary jazz label Impulse! Records) has it all: intensity, experimentation, warmth. I have been listening to it for a week now and I am still completely enamoured with it. This album is for those who are afraid of jazz. And, obviously, for those who are not.

March Round-Up

The problem with Jack Antonoff is that the guy has no identity. He may be a decent producer, but his own songs only make sense when he sounds like Bruce Springsteen or The National. Hence the new Bleachers album is average at best. At worst, it features some truly horrendous autotune.

I listened to the new single by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds almost the second that it was released, and it was a wild ride. After a few seconds of beautiful noise came a lovely if somewhat unremarkable folk-pop melody that could have been an outtake from the mellower side of Abattoir Blues/Lyre of Orpheus. That said, my complaints were effectively blown to pieces by the extended coda that was every bit as gospelish and ecstatic as the second part of "White Elephant". The "Wild God" experience will be cathartic live. 

Cathartic. Not a word I would use in connection with the new album by Liam Gallagher and Chris Squire. Christ what a dull mess. Tired blues, forced psychedelia and melodies so laboured and yet so rudimentary that I do not get why anyone would be bothered to listen to this more than once. And of course Liam calls one of the songs "Mother Nature's Son". Exasperating.

People should be banned from using words like Psychocandy when talking about a new album by The Jesus & Mary Chain. It just feels that whatever the Reid brothers might do at this point, it won't be good enough. They will either record a bland copy of "Just Like Honey" or will be criticised mercilessly for still playing the alternative game in their 60s (I guess they should start doing adult contemporary). Because Glasgow Eyes is a fine album. Not great or anything like that, but they are joyfully diverse and can still pen a simple but addictive tune. That said, that chorus of "Venal Joy" is a bit too fucking simplistic. 

While Kim Gordon's bold new album is commendable (The Collective is pure industrial noise infused with strong hip-hop leanings), it is more of a semi-successful experiment. Kind of powerful but also very one-dimensional. 

I am still not convinced by Yard Act. Are they as cool as they think they are? Judging by the first album, not at all (despite the dancing girl in "The Overload" video). But it is getting warmer, and Where's My Utopia? puts their post-punk charisma to better use. You do have to get used to the rap-like singing, but once you do, you may find this record catchy and intense without being grating. They do have a knack for making unreasonable creative decisions (the ending of "Grifter's Grief", the entirety of "Blackpool Illuminations"), but the intense soulful anthem "A Vineyard For The North" almost makes up for any missteps.

Adrianne Lenker is something of a cult hero these days. She is mostly known for fronting Big Thief, but Lenker is also an established solo artist in her own right. Bright Future is a country-folk album that I have seen compared to artists like Mount Eerie. I disagree. Her songwriting is much more substantial and incisive, and you won't find many songs in 2024 as gorgeous as "Evol", "Sadness as a Gift" and "Ruined". 

Almost each time that I listen to a new album by Ride, I wonder if back in the day I really liked Nowhere all that much. Because that colourful shoegaze noise is all but gone on Interplay and what we get here is pleasant dream pop without too much edge to it. It is all very agreeable and consistent, and the second half reveals some lovely vocal hooks (in "Sunrise Chaser", for instance) but ultimately the word is 'unexceptional'. 

Nils Frahm is a modern classical composer whose new albums I rarely miss. Day is every bit as raw and minimalist as its cover suggests. You hear the sparse piano notes that nevertheless retain a great deal of inner tension (not least due to the presence of the recording room which plays a very distinct role on the album). It is not his best work but there is a lot of ambient beauty to be discovered here.

Finally, Pete Astor released an album of rerecordings of some of his lesser-known songs that go back to his Loft, Weather Prophets and even Wisdom of Harry days (I want to seize this opportunity to say that those three obscure Wisdom of Harry albums are very underrated). The LP is titled Tall Stories & New Religions and features the usual Pete Astor fare: tasteful, economical songs with a soft but undeniable melodic edge. "Model Village" is a clear highlight, but it is all excellent (the man has taste). My only complaint is that he did not find space for "Boxed", surely one of the greatest songs ever. 

Songs of the month:

"Emergence" - Messthetics and James Brandon Lewis

"Wild God" - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

"Model Village" - Pete Astor

"Sadness as a Gift" - Adrianne Lenker

"Second of June" - The Jesus and Mary Chain

"A Vineyard for the North" - Yard Act

Steve Harley (1951-2024)

I remember how shocked I was back in the day on discovering that Psychomodo by Cockney Rebel was not regarded as one of the greatest albums of the 70s. That not too many people cared, or even knew, and that secondhand stores were filled with unwanted vinyl copies of that LP (like they are still filled with The Triffids' Calenture). That Steve Harley was mostly known for his 1975 hit single "Make Me Smile (Come Up And See Me)". A good song, no doubt, but one that plays too safe after the tastefully deranged brilliance of Cockney Rebel's two first albums, The Human Menagerie and Psychomodo. Electric violin, glam-rock grandeur, beautiful melodies, oblique lyrics and Harley's eccentric Bowie-esque vocal delivery. I fell in love with those albums almost at once. 

While Steve Harley would never reach those art rock heights again, he never really lost it as a songwriter. And through all these decades he remained frustratingly underrated, until the very end. Today, a week after his death, there are too many classic songs to mention. "Death Trip", "Hideaway", "Tumbling Down", "Psychomodo", "Back To The Farm"... However, it is this beautiful anthem at the end of his third album that I have been playing non-stop ever since last Sunday... Rest in peace. 

Oh you'll think it's tragic when that moment arrives

Oh, oh but it's magic, it's the best years of our lives

The Zone of Interest

Sometimes an idea is so good and so unequivocal that everything else will simply fall into place. Such was the idea that Jonathan Glazer extracted from Martin Amis's 2014 novel The Zone of Interest, a short but powerful book set in Auschwitz during the Second World War. The idea was to show the seemingly normal, orderly life of Rudolf Höss. To show the wife, tending the garden, and the children, running around the house, and to have the horrors of Auschwitz as merely the backdrop to picnics and petty laughter at the kitchen table. 

All great art gets off on a juxtaposition, and you will not find a stronger one than the juxtaposition at the heart of The Zone of Interest. It is as hypnotic as it is absolutely sickening. Across the street and over the wall, there is an unbearable cacophony of screams, shots and constant beatings (the kinds that, inevitably, ooze into the subconscious of Höss's children). Outside, there is unspeakable ash flying in the air. Inside, the wife of the camp's commandant (the quietly sinister Sandra Hüller) is considering the latest batch of clothes she got from Jewish women about to be led into the gas chamber. 

The film is a succession of simple words and insignificant actions but the underlying tension never leaves the screen. How could it?.. In fact, the only breaks from the gruesome routine come by way of a village girl who is seen in dream-like sequences leaving food for Auschwitz prisoners. These scenes bring some otherworldly humanity into this hell on earth, and in his interviews Jonathan Glazer tells a beautiful story about how he actually met this girl while shooting The Zone of Interest in Poland. Now well into her nineties, she really was doing that every night while living near the camp at the time and being a member of Polish Resistance. 

The Zone of Interest is clinical at showing the evil of the mundane. Hannah Arendt famously spoke about how there was nothing special about Adolf Eichmann and others like him. They were insignificant, one-dimensional people who were doing their small jobs. Rudolf Höss, too, was doing his job, and was only occasionally distracted by his wife's garden, sex with Jews, his great love for dogs and the efficiency of crematoriums. However, you will always be aware of the powerful impact of every small detail in this film. With that unnerving sound design, with those beautiful flowers of Auschwitz, the film has the kind of understated quality that overwhelms your whole being.  

February Round-Up

Sometimes a cross between ABBA and Siouxsie & The Banshees, sometimes a little more than that - The Last Dinner Party certainly justified the hype with their debut album. Prelude To Ecstasy is filled with attitude and big glammy choruses. Not perfect, but never less than interesting (even the short interlude in Albanian is worthy of your time). 

J Mascis's latest ended up being exactly what you would expect: solid, engaging indie rock. What Do We Do Now rarely threatens greatness, but you will have a good time listening to it. "Can't Believe We're Here" is a clear highlight with some stellar guitar soloing. 

Nürnberg is a Belarusian band who have just released their latest LP. Adkaz is a short but to-the-point amalgamation of post-punk and coldwave. Despite the obvious genre constraints, the album is quite playful and melodically satisfying. They even serve up an unexpected jangle-pop throwaway at the end of the album which, naturally, ended up being my favourite song. Adkaz is a lot more interesting and involving than its suprematist black and white cover would suggest. 

It is hard not to be uncomfortable these days listening to new Mark Kozelek records, but Sun Kil Moon's EP titled Birthday Girl really does feature the man's best songs in quite some time. Mumbling, addictive, filled with acerbic wit, awkward humour, self-pity, and Kozelek actually trying to sing some of those melodies. Which, and I want to stress this point, are very good melodies. 

Finally, Katherine Priddy's new album The Pendulum Swing is a decent folk album whose sole moment of true greatness may be the rich, dreamy, Fleetwood Mac-like "Does She Hold You Like I Did". I wish she would do more in that vein in future. 

Songs of the month:

"Floating On A Moment" - Beth Gibbons

"The Feminine Urge" - The Last Dinner Party

"The Call Of The Wild" - Sun Kil Moon

"Does She Hold You Like I Did" - Katherine Priddy

Альбом. "АДКАЗ" (2024) / Nürnberg.

Некалькі тыдняў таму, на начным джазавым канцэрце ў Варшаве, я ў чарговы раз быў сведкам таго, як палякі рэагуюць на польскае. Калі гралі класічныя творы Майлза Дэвіса альбо Чарлі Паркера, рэакцыя была стрымана-паважлівай. Ніхто не рваў на сябе валасы, ніхто не крычаў у паўрэлігійным экстазе. Між тым, калі музыкі гралі малавядомыя (звышсентыментальныя і, калі шчыра, не вельмі адметныя) творы польскага кампазітара першай паловы дваццатага стагоддзя, публіка была ў захапленні, і жанчына, што сядзела за суседнім столікам, бясконца штурхала мяне ў спіну і апантана выкрыквала "брава!"  Бачыў я усё гэта, вядома, далёка не ў першы раз. Гэты дзіўны культурны патрыятызм (кепскія канатацыі не дазвадяюць напісаць "нацыяналізм"), непазбежны, гістарычна падмацаваны, цалкам зразумелы. 

Я пішу гэта з той прычыны, што амаль ніколі не падзяляў гэтых пачуццяў. Верагодна, што звязана гэта ў тым ліку і з той безлічу водгукаў і рэцэнзій, якія я напісаў у сваім жыцці. Аднойчы я перастаў зважаць на паходжанне, і калі даведаўся год таму, што колькасць праслухоўванняў менскага гурта Nürnberg ў Spotify дасягае некалькіх соцен тысяч на месяц (у Молчат дома, дарэчы, лічба гэтая пайшла на мільёны), я толькі крыху здзівіўся і дадаў Nürnberg у свае закладкі. 

Coldwave як жанр мае пэўныя абмежаванні, і гэта ніколі не дазваляла мне яго палюбіць. Бо заўсёды было адчуванне: там, унутры, ёсць нешта лёгкае і прыгожае, што абрамілі ў халодныя барабаны і чорна-белую вокладку. І тым не менш, калі абстрагавацца ад гэтых думак, забыцца на паходжанне (бо так ці інакш, але пішу я гэтыя рэцэнзіі менавіта пра беларускае мастацтва), прыняць умоўнасці і паразважаць пра саму музыку - наколькі яна ўдалая?

Адказ - даволі кароткі альбом, які доўжыцца меней за паўгадзіны, але якому ёсць, што сказаць. І гэта датычыцца як музыкі, так і тэкстаў. "Insomnia" (дарэчы, адзіная англійская назва ў альбоме) пачынаецца з летуценна-меладычнага рытму, які нагадвае ранніх The Cure, і ты адразу ж разумееш, што цябе чакае далей. Мелодыі збольшага павольныя, разважлівыя, з гатычнымі пералівамі і спарадычнымі ўкрапінамі сінтэзатараў (у добрым сэнсе гэтага слова). Часам гітара знікае, рытм паскараецца і робіцца амаль танцавальным ("Месца"), але стыль не губляецца ніколі. То-бок  Nürnberg выдатна адчуваюць рамкі і рэдка выходзяць за межы чорна-белага супрэматызму, які паўстае на вокладцы альбома.  

Такі зараз гістарычны момант, што часам разумееш: немагчыма ў сучасным беларускім мастацтве стварыць добры твор і захаваць пры гэтым пэўную апалітычнасць. Калі вельмі паспрабуеш, то атрымаецца банальная дрэнь. А калі не дрэнь, то палітыка ўсё роўна будзе выглядваць, агідна і нервова, з кожнай ноты і кожнага радка. Бо нават беларуская мова сёння - гэта не проста мова, але яшчэ і выказванне. Сродак абароны. Спроба захаваць сябе, але і нешта значна большае за сябе. Тэксты альбома Nürnberg прасякнуты адсылкамі да змрочнай беларускай рэчаіснасці, а калі яны пяюць пра "сцяг перамогі" і "жалезныя колы" ў цэнтральным творы альбома ("Адліга"), то нельга не зразумець і не ўзрушыцца.

Тым не менш, гэта ўдалы альбом не толькі для беларускай музыкі, але (што куды больш значна) для музыкі ўвогуле. Той музыкі, што выйшла ў лютым 2024 года. Цікава, але, напэўна, і непазбежна тое, што мая любімая песня альбома - гэта "Пацалунак". Рамантычны твор у жанры jangle pop, ён крыху выбіваецца з агульнай стылістыкі альбома і дадае пэўны гумар, пэўную цеплыню (тут можна было б прыгадаць "Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others" з вядомага альбома 1986 года). 

Адказ падаецца добрым музычным выказваннем, у якім няма амаль нічога лішняга. Якое вытрымана ў жорсткіх рамках жанру, але якое не баіцца зрабіць крок улева. У якім (і гэта, канешне, таксама адметна), ёсць не толькі "жалезныя колы ў крыві", але і "мары аб простай вясне".

Three films. Thumbs up.

Like I have said previously, there were many good-to-great films in 2023. Some were hilarious (Theater Camp, possibly the best comedy I have seen in years), some puzzling (May December, a strangely hypnotic exercise in style from Todd Haynes) and some downight bizarre (Poor Things, a fascinating feast for the eyes and the senses). Too many to name. These three, however, were my absolute favourites. That is, until I get to see The Zone of Interest in a week or so.

Past Lives (2023)

Having watched this film two times now and read a couple of interviews with director Celine Song, I know I will always be on the lookout for whatever she does in the future. This is smart, emotionally devastating filmmaking that starts haunting you long before the final credits. Astounding that this is only her debut.

It is a semi-autobiagrophical film that started, according to a Celine Song interview, exactly the way Past Lives begins: sitting in a late-night bar in New York City, watching three people having a conversation and wondering about their story. The actual story turns out to be as simple as it is complicated. Love, immigration, dreams, the weight of the unspoken. It is also a universal story, one that absolutely anyone can relate to. I know I did.

Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

The subject of unconditional love has always fascinated me, and this French film by Justine Triet might be the most astute and incisive work on the matter.

Visually, it is all quite simple. Anatomy of a Fall is a story-driven film that nevertheless throws a few great tricks along the way, especially when it deals with the way a blind boy perceives the world in which his mother may or may not have killed his dad. It is primarily a courtroom drama that kept me on the edge of my seat and never offered a single easy answer. Also, Sandra Hüller's performance is out of this world. The scene during the trial when she asks the judge to switch from French to English was, for me, one of the tensest, thrilling, and most unbearable scenes of last year.

The Holdovers (2023)

So much has already been said about how this film is a new Christmas classic, and how it looks exactly as if it was made in 1973, and how every performance is just superb. All I can say is that it is all true. All of it. I can't wait to see it during next Christmas, it did provide a great escape (isn't that what cinema is for, anyway?), and Paul Giamatti and the rest of the gang all deserve their accolades.

An American boarding school for the rich and the privileged is closed for winter holidays, and a grumpy old professor is forced to spend it with a few holdover kids (those who had nowhere else to go). Also, there is a cafeteria manager whose son has recently been killed in the Vietnam War. This is such a brilliant setup that there is no chance it could fail. Not when you have such phenomenal acting and Alexander Payne's knack for tasteful, brilliantly realised and nuanced restraint. 

Three films. Thumbs down.

Despite the fact that 2023 was an exceptional year in terms of film releases, these three get an unquestionable thumbs down. 

Wonka (2023)

I don't like musicals, Oompa Loompas and Timothée Chalamet. 

Speaking of Oompa Loompas, they were one of Roald Dahl's more questionable creations, and I am not sure anyone can adapt them for screen in a way that would not make my skin crawl. Tim Burton's 2005 take failed, and this version from Paul King (who made the excellent Paddington) is hardly an improvement. Overall both versions are okay, but whereas I do not mind a hammy Johnny Depp as Willy Wonka, I just find Timothée Chalamet impossibly dull. He was somewhat amusing in his brief role in Don't Look Up, but his range is mostly limited to the vaguely mysterious pout of Call Me By Your Name. 

This is not a bad film, and parts of it are rather entertaining, but with three major ingredients being so unpalatable, I stood no chance here.

Saltburn (2023)

Well, I laughed. 

The most divisive film of 2023 turned out to be unintentionally hilarious. At some point during or after the grave-humping scene, I actually thought this was all just a comedy and I had been had. Almost everything about this film seems fake and uncertain of itself. No rhythm, no conviction (despite a few strong performances), and the whole thing just falls apart during its third act. 

There are bits and pieces that threaten to work as unsubtle, in-your-face satire (eat the rich and the rest of it), and it is wrong to criticise a picture for having just negative characters, but I need a little more than a couple of revolting scenes and an improbable resolution to stay with me after watching a film. Come to think of it, even The Riot Club was a more satisfying experience.

Barbie (2023)

Again, there are parts of this film that I found okay (not least the much lauded comic turn from Ryan Gosling), but mostly this was shallow fluff with an ending so trite I regretted those two hours of my life I would never get back. There are maybe three funny jokes here, everything else is just coloured in pink. 

A student of mine has recently said to me that she thought Taylor Swift was actually a wrong person to be named by Time magazine as the person of the year. According to her, they should have gone for Barbie. A scary thought. One, though, that is very difficult to dispute.

Album of the Month: IECHYD DA by Bill Ryder-Jones

Sometimes an album speaks to you so directly and so intimately that it is hard to believe you could spend your whole life without it. Bill Ryder-Jones' new album is the sort of thing that makes me burst into tears of joy and laugh like a madman. It is the sort of artistic achievement that you have the right to make just once in your life. It is a work of immense beauty and sincerity that soars, grips and never lets go. 

January is not even supposed to be a good month. If anything, it is supposed to drag on listlessly and die a quiet, if noble, death. It is not supposed to produce any strong melodies or lyrical nuance. Miraculously, though, Iechyd Da (Welsh for 'good day') is probably my album of the year which was released less than two weeks into 2024.

Back in the day, I reviewed Bill Ryder-Jones' soundtrack If... for Oxford Music Magazine and praised it for the classical minimalism that felt not just self-consciously pretty but also genuinely moving. He then released two very good albums which I admired rather than loved ("You're Getting Like Your Sister" notwithstanding), after which came Yawn. Typically personal and introspective, this was the Ryder-Jones album that really clicked with me. And now, after five long years and a lovely, if inessential, Yawny Yawn LP (a stripped-down version of Yawn), comes Iechyd Da.

It is difficult to imagine that Bill Ryder-Jones did not realise he was on to something special here, because everything, everything about Iechyd Da spells creative peak. These are his most realised melodies, his most accomplished lyrics, his most elaborate arrangements. There is a stunningly beautiful album cover, there is a well-placed sample of Gal Costa's "Baby", there is Michael Head reading from James Joyce's Ulysses and there is even a children's choir that crops up here and there to astounding effect. Speaking of the latter, there is a particularly heartfelt moment at the very end of "It's Today Again" when the kids sing a cappella the lines that serve as a counterpoint to the album's seminal lyrical statement: "There is something great about life / But there's something not quite right".

The songs are as complex as they are disarmingly simple. You get gentle acoustic strumming one second, and soaring, majestic strings the next, and it all works in perfect unison, erupting in multiple moments of musical bliss (the orchestral climax from George Harrison's "Try Some Buy Some" would be a good reference point). While the album is not diverse at all (as a matter of fact, it sounds homogenous to a fault), it never seems monotonous. "Christinha" is almost upbeat, and "How Beautiful I Am" is almost a waltz. Plus, he tends to make songs evolve and develop in the course of their running time. The opening "I Know That It's Like This (Baby)" is especially notable in this respect, to say nothing of the beginning of "If Tomorrow Starts Without Me", a wonderful nod to Lou Reed. 

Well, what more can I say, really? A well-honed, intimate, beautifully realised work that moves me to absolute tears (the lyrics of the two closing songs are as vulnerable as they are hard-hitting). If you have a vinyl record player, buy it on vinyl. If you have a tape recorder, buy it on tape. Get it somehow. This album truly is remarkable.

January Round-Up

"Don't Go Puttin' Wishes In My Head" was one of my favourite songs of 2021 (Thirstier was, in fact, an excellent little indie-pop LP), so I was naturally looking forward to whatever Torres does next. Sadly, What an enormous room comes off limp and unmotivated. Moments of true inspiration (the pulsating single "Collect" with its tasteful scuzziness, the strangely hypnotic "Jerk Into Joy" with a Laurie Anderson-esque intermission) are few and far between.

Thom Yorke and company (currently operating under The Smile moniker), meanwhile, keep releasing their 'best since In Rainbows'  albums. Wall Of Eyes is instantly engaging, with substantial grooves, lovely wafts of strings and memorable vocal hooks that you can actually relate to. Really, you do not need to make an intellectual effort to appreciate the disarming piano-based ballad "Friend of a Friend".

Sleater-Kinney are still wildly praised by critics (mostly, and this gets increasingly clearer after reading the reviews, for their past glories) but at this point it is hard to see the appeal. Little Rope is a middling late-period album (much like their previous two) that sounds too laboured to generate any genuine excitement. A couple of songs aside, this is indie-rock with meat on its bones but very little edge. 

I also hear that Liam Gallagher has released a new single with John Squire. There is not much I can say about it, though, other than the obvious: "Rain" by The Beatles gets 5/5, and "Just Another Rainbow" gets 2/5. 

Songs of the month:

"If Tomorrow Starts Without Me" - Bill Ryder-Jones

"Did You End Up With The One You Love?" - Robert Forster

"Friend of a Friend" - The Smile

"Shiver" - The Libertines

"Undress Yourself" - Sleater-Kinney

"Can't Believe We're Here" - J Mascis

"Collect" - Torres

Тэатр. "ДЗІКАЕ ПАЛЯВАННЕ КАРАЛЯ СТАХА" (2023) / Беларускі Свабодны Тэатр.

Беларускі свабодны тэатр з'явіўся ў маім жыцці яшчэ ў студэнцкія часы. Менавіты тады, на першым ці на другім курсе, я патрапіў на закрыты паказ спектакля прысвечанага знікненню беларускіх палітыкаў і журналістаў. Памятаю закінуты дом недалёка ад плошчы Бангалор, дзе каля сцяны стаялі вузкія, халодныя лаўкі. Памятаю квіткі, якіх не было (на ўваходзе правяраліся спісы з нашымі імёнамі). Памятаю Мікалая Халезіна, які папярэджваў нас перад пачаткам, што ў любы момант сюды можа ўварвацца АМАП і брутальна затрымаць кожнага з нас. Нават карэспандэнтаў замежных каналаў, якія таксама прысутнічалі ў памяшканні. На жаль, я не так добра памятаю саму пастаноўку, якая не ўрэзалася ў маю памяць, а захавалася толькі як цьмяны ўспамін пра іншае вымярэнне і нейкую дзіўную рэальнасць, у якіх мы некалі жылі.

                                                                      Tristram Kenton/The Guardian

Пасля таго вечара Беларускі свабодны тэатр знік з майго жыцця амаль што на два дзесяцігоддзі. Я чуў пра Мікалая Халезіна і яго поспехі ў Лондане і на іншых сусветных пляцоўках, але саміх пастановак я не бачыў. Дый не шмат хто меў такую магчымасць, бо каб патрапіць на гэтыя паказы, трэба было ляцець у Сіднэй ці ў Нью-Ёрк (што, канешне, цалкам зразумела). Тое, што заставалася, - гэта цудоўны міф, а таксама звышстаноўчыя рэцэнзіі, ўзнагароды і першыя радкі рэйтынгаў па выніках года. Увесь гэты час Беларускі свабодны тэатр заставаўся тэатрам у выгнанні, які распавядаў пра беларускія жахі замежнаму гледачу. І замежны глядач быў у захапленні.

У мінулым годзе тэатр вырашыў зрабіць нечаканы крок улева і паставіць оперу па культаваму для Беларусі раману Караткевіча "Дзікае паляванне караля Стаха". Прэм'ера адбылася ў Лондане ў верасні, у знакамітым Barbican Centre, і, як заўжды, крытыкі былі ў захапленні. Прынамсі, самым гучным закідам да халезінскай пастаноўкі было тое, што непадрыхтаваны глядач не разумеў амаль нічога з таго, што адбываецца на сцэне. Тым не менш, заблытанасць падзей наўрад ці магла напужаць беларускага гледача, які ведаў мову і сюжэт, і ў якога з'явілася магчымасць цягам трох дзён убачыць оперу на YouTube-канале Свабоднага тэатра. 

Пастаноўка "Дзікага палявання" выглядае змрочна і хаатычна. І калі я не магу не пагадзіцца з першым, то другое па-сапраўднаму бянтэжыць. Нават калі добра ведаць кнігу, падзеі ў гэтай пастаноўцы нагадваюць бязладнае напластаванне дэкарацый і сцэн. Якія можа і выглядаюць эфектна і тэхнічна складана, яле якія хутчэй пра форму, чым пра мастацкі змест. Гатычная атмасфера нагадвае савецкі фільм 1979 года (дарэчы, цудоўны, хаця і звыштэатральны), але за час прагляду мяне так і не пакінула адчуванне, што эмоцыі ў пастаноўцы Беларускага свабоднага тэатра амаль цалкам адсутнічаюць.  

Не з'яўляючыся вялікім экспертам у оперы, магу сказаць толькі, што вакальныя партыі добрыя (не было чамусьці Іллі Сельчукова, які планаваўся першапачаткова як адзін з выканаўцаў), а музыка Вольгі Падгайскай сапраўды выдатная. Менавіта музыка, дарэчы, інтэнсіўная і часам мінімалістычная, падтрымлівала мой інтарэс да містычных падзей у радавым замку Яноўскіх (лібрэта было напісана ўсюдыісным Андрэем Хадановічам). Бо, на жаль, анічога ў гэтай версіі "Дзікага палявання" мяне не кранае. Усё, што адбываецца на сцэне, нагадвае блытаную працэсію эпізодаў і падзей. Эфектны танец, сцэна першая, сцэна другая, цікавая пантаміма, сцэна трэцяя... Гэта ўсё мітусліва, няўпэўнена і не падмацавана аніякім унутраным рытмам. Магчыма, нешта зменіцца ў будучых версіях оперы, але на дадзены момант выглядае гэта ўсё як няўдалы эксперымент.

У нейкі момант пастаноўка немінуча імкнецца ў бок падзей у сучаснай Беларусі, і асобныя эпізоды трапляюць у сэрца ("вы тут занадта жывы"), але нагадваюць яны хутчэй рэдкія спалохі ў сюжэтным хаосе, што адбываецца на сцэне. Ва ўсялякім разе, цэласнай і паслядоўнай гэтую пастаноўку я назваць не магу. Добрыя ж рэцэнзіі сведчаць пра тое, што ў 2023 годзе мы існуем з Беларускім свабодным тэатрам у розных вымярэннях, і гэта, калі шчыра, крыху засмучвае.

French Pop: through the years

I was raised on French pop. Up until the age 9, Joe Dassin was what I heard from an old tape recorder standing on the window-sill of my bedroom. I distinctly remember Mylène Farmer's "Ainsi Soit Je" breaking my heart each night as I was trying to fall asleep. It was sensual and whispery and erotic in a way I could not yet comprehend. My face was smeared with tears. I lost my virginity to French pop. 

To me, these ten songs represent the best of French music, from early 60s and all the way to the current times. From yé-yé to power pop to singer-songwriter to art pop. Essentially, though, this is all shameless pop music. But French. Which, let's face it, removes any shame from the whole thing. 

"Tous les garçons et les filles" by Françoise Hardy (1962)

Hardy was at the forefront of the yé-yé wave that mixed bubblegum and innocence in a highly sexualised French way. A classic song, of course, but the entirety of her back catalogue is well worth exploring. 

"Bonnie and Clyde" by Brigitte Bardot and Serge Gainsbourg (1968)

Few things in the world of French pop are as iconic as the vocal hook by Brigitte Bardot that gallops in the background of "Bonnie and Clyde". Tasteful and seductive.

"Comme un boomerang" by Serge Gainsbourg (1975)

Serge Gainsbourg made his name in the 60s, but this song from 1975 is the one I have always loved the best. The groove just rolls on and on, and Gainsbourg's vocals are typically detached and engaging at the same time.

"Cendrillon" by Téléphone (1982)

Hard rock did not become them: mostly, they just sounded dull and predictible. "Cendrillon", however, was an entirely different matter. Released in 1982, this was power pop that relied on charm rather than power. 

"Ella, elle l'a" by France Gall (1987)

I have never actually liked France Gall in her yé-yé glory. "Poupée de cire, poupée de son" was way too much. "Ella, elle l'a", on the other hand, is a brilliant tribute to Ella Fitzgerald and features unsubtle 80s production that somehow works. It is slick but not soulless.

"Sensualité" by Axelle Red (1993)

Well, what can we do about a song that disembowels you with its pop hooks? Axelle Red is a Belgian artist whose first album was patchy but not without its share of great songs. One of them was "Sensualité", a song so irresistible you have to surrender at some point during the chorus.

"Raphaël" by Carla Bruni (2002)

A short article in a music magazine once pointed me in the direction of Carla Bruni's sentimental folk music, and from what I could gather her debut album is where it's at. Since then, she's been pleasant but inessential. "Raphaël" is a great little pop song.

"Christine" by Juniore (2013)

Juniore is a fantastic band from Paris that combines yé-yé with psychedelic surf music. A very attractive combination that has yielded two excellent albums and "Christine" as their debut single. Sizzling.

"Où va le monde" by La Femme (2016)

This band from Biarritz is the epitome of diversity (synthpop, indie rock, ambient, folk pop, psychedelia, yé-yé) and inconsistency (even their best albums are all over the place). But God knows "Où va le monde" is criminally catchy. Maybe the greatest song of all time, maybe not.

"Monde Nouveau" by Feu! Chatterton (2021)

I reviewed these guys in 2021 when their last album was released, and I stand by what I said back then: adventurous art pop with great songwriting. "Monde Nouveau" is still a modern classic.