Marlon Magnée in Warsaw, 21.04

You have to give it to them - Poles have a sense of humour. As a sweaty, exhausted Marlon Magnée finishes doing "Elle ne t'aime pas" (which is the song that once started my love for La Femme), he turns to the audience. "Guys, could you recommend the best bar in Warsaw? One I should go to while I'm in the city?"

"Rusałka!" is the loudest scream. 

"Okay", he says. "I will go there". 

Oh dear. I hope he googles the place before he does. But then he probably won't remember the name once the concert is over and he is done with the extended encore that includes a few classics like "Sur la planche 2013" and "Tatiana".

Incidentally, Rusałka (Polish for mermaid) is a good title for a new La Femme song. It is also a cult bar młeczny, an old-school cafeteria-like eatery with traditional food, low prices and the sort of decor that will transport you back into communism in no time at all. And the exterior? Let's just say if Marlon does remember the name of the place, he won't dare to go in. 

And yet it is hard to imagine the district of Praga without this place. Just as it is hard to imagine it without the cozy little yard off 11 Listopada St. that includes a mural titled "You Will Never Be Younger Than Now", a nostalgia vintage shop, an atmospheric bar with strong Twin Peaks vibes and the bizarrely named club called Hydrozagadka. The latter is the perfect venue for a Marlon Magnée concert. The demented, dilapidated streets of Praga-Północ with a Soviet-looking milk bar called Rusałka in close vicinity. The intriguing late-night thrill of the little yard. The weed-smelling little club with a small stage but a lot of attitude. Really, you wouldn't want to see Marlon Magnée in another setting.

The warm-up act is a pleasantly eccentric Polish band called BEMY with a singer who looks like a wild version of Bill Evans and a bunch of highly entertaining songs in French. The performance is full of brilliant energy and a brief setlist full of Zbigniew Wodecki's repertoire adapted for a small club in Warsaw.

After which comes Marlon Magnée, and we start with the single "Plus fort que toi" off his excellent solo album Dark Star (released earlier this year). After a few lethargic La Femme records, it is a real return to form, and the energy exuded by the visibly pumped Magnée proves that he, too, knows that. He then does "La fureur d'Annie" followed by the slower, classic-sounding "La première", and quite soon it becomes clear that he is doing Dark Star in its entirety. The songs feel as good as they are on the record, if not better. I would probably welcome some more variety (the club ambience is relentless and intense), but I'm still caught up in all this high-octane, motorik-imbued nonsense. 

The audience are into it, too, and alongside the beer-wielding, weed-smoking teenagers there are also people of older age and even a couple of random French people who are visibly happy to see their compatriot in this wild, dark heart of Varsovie (speaking of which, Marlon gets into the habit of saying dziękuję after each song he does). Not to jump or at least sway like a madman is nearly impossible, and I don't think I have experienced anything quite like this since the good old days of The Menzingers blowing the roof off a small club in Dublin ten or twelve years ago.

The beautiful respite comes by way of the self-penned timeless gospel tune "Cause There Is No Time" that brings the concert proper to its stylish end. Except there is also an extended encore, and Marlon is clearly thrilled to do more songs. "Are you ready for "Tatiana"?" he asks after a brief pause. And oh God yes we are. Then another song. And then, after the last goodbye, he does two more. He doesn't want to leave, and neither do we. And no - he won't be going to Rusałka tonight. Polish milk bars close at 5 pm. 

March Round-Up

Like everyone else, I hate it when French people pretend they do not understand the English language. That said, the biggest problem with Marlon Magnée's debut solo album Dark Star is his insistence to sing some of these songs en anglais. Sadly, this affliction also hit La Femme's last album Rock Machine which traded a certain French mystique for a bunch of English cliches. Still, these are some of his best songs since La Femme's second album, and any fan of that band's work will feel right at home with these catchy little tunes that merge stylish synthpop with a motorik heart. Plus, "La première" is pure magic. 7/10

The new album by The Delines was a mild disappointment. Perhaps The Set Up was rushed a little - coming as it did merely one year after their previous LP (the excellent Mr. Luck and Ms. Doom). The relaxed, Americana-tinged vibes are still there, and Amy Boone's soulful vocals hit as hard as ever, but this particular set of melodies seems remarkably weaker. 6/10

Other than the obvious hits, I've never been a big fan of Squeeze. Which is why Trixies, their latest, is such a pleasant surprise. This is not an old band sounding dull and irrelevant - instead, it is Chris Difford and Glenn Tilbrook re-recording songs they wrote in 1974, four full years before their official debut. Back in the 70s, this concept album set in a fictional London nightclub was rejected, but here in 2026 it just sounds exciting and fresh. Trixies is playful art pop with certain glam and psychedelic undertones (I mean, "The Place We Call Mars" is basically David Bowie). Perhaps other 'older' bands should follow suit and release stuff they did in their teenage years? 7/10

Earlier this month, I wrote the full review of Morrissey's Make-Up Is A Lie, and I would say that subsequent listens haven't made me love it less. Really, as long as you don't compare it to Vauxhall & I, this is really strong material that stands up against some of his more acclaimed work. Paid critics are slowly coming round, too. 8/10

Back in their day, Voxtrot did not exactly set the world on fire - but they had this great knack for an irresistible melodic flow. Their run of EPs was amazing, and "The Start Of Something" was the best song that The Smiths never wrote. Where they faltered was a fully-fledged LP. Despite having a few great songs ("Kid Gloves", "Firecracker"), their self-titled album was the result of a burnout rather than of true inspiration. Does Dreamers In Exile right the wrongs? Well, they sound exactly like they did in their heyday in mid-00s, and the melodies are as free-flowing and beautifully long-winded as ever, but I can't get rid of the following thought: there is a brilliant EP here ("New World Romance" / "The Times" / "My Peace" / "Rock & Roll Jesus") but beyond that the levels of their sugar-coated power pop get too high. Good stuff though. 6/10

With some terrific post-punk crunch and a few great guests (Luke Haines, Lee McFadden of Television Personalities), Swell Maps return with C21. These days, the band is basically Jowe Head with a bunch of friends, and the album does not come especially close to their two classics from 1979 and 1980, but this is still a good reminder and a convincing set of tasteful freak-outs. 6/10

The New Pornographers are back with their 10th (!) album. The Former Site Of marks the first release without their disgraced drummer, and it is perhaps their most subdued and least flashy LP ever. Which does not mean, of course, that AC Newman has stopped being one of the best songwriters currently working in indie music. The hooks and vocal melodies are still there, they just weave their magic into you slowly rather than knock you off your feet from the get-go. And while "Pure Sticker Shock" may feel a little too repetitive and uneventful for my tastes, "Ballad Of The Last Payphone" and especially the closing epic title song are some of their best work ever. Also, "Wine Remembers The Water" could have been written by Dan Bejar. But it wasn't. 7/10

Finally, House Of All stick to their plan of releasing one album every year. Inklings is still good, and I enjoy these grooves as much as I enjoyed them previously, but for how long can this go on without straying away from the formula? Or is that a wrong question? 6/10

Songs of the Month:

"La première" by Marlon Magnée

"Dilaudid Diane" by The Delines

"The Place We Call Mars" by Squeeze

"The Monsters of Pig Alley" by Morrissey

"Rock & Roll Jesus" by Voxtrot

"Johnny Seven" by Swell Maps

"The Former Site Of" by The New Pornographers

"Wrecked" by House Of All

A few words about Marty Supreme

It's been a strange year for films in the sense that I don't think I've been truly impressed by any single one of them. Sinners had great sound and visceral energy but ultimately seemed a little confused about what sort of film it wanted to be. Sentimental Value felt like a wonderfully executed Bergman pastiche. One Battle After Another is not even a top 5 Paul Thomas Anderson film. Hamnet tried too hard. Quite honestly, if it were up to me, I'd give the Oscar to Train Dreams. Which, incidentally, nobody is even talking about anymore.

Instead, everyone is talking about Marty Supreme. Again, a very good film - but just how good, really? 

Take a look at the running time. Why on Earth is it two and a half hours long? What is the dog story even doing here? Shave off 30 minutes at least, and you get a much better film.

Or let's consider Timothée Chalamet. A truly convincing performance that works well within the context of this breathless, highly entertaining film. The problem is - his acting remains remarkably depthless. And no, the last scenes did not fool me.

Overall, it just felt like this panic-stricken style of filmmaking (see Josh Safdie's previous film Uncut Gems) replaces real emotional content with attractive tension and never-ending anxiety. So much so that when something actually emotionally charged appears, like the honey story, it is no more than a technical anecdote. Worse, it feels empty.

So again - a fun film, an entertaining film, but also one that amounts to very little.  

Album review: MAKE-UP IS A LIE by Morrissey

Nobody even listens to Morrissey's albums anymore. Why would you? If you are working for The Guardian or The Irish Times, you only need to say that the guy is a wanker (the language will be different, but you get the idea) with despicable political views and that one of the songs on his new album expounds the conspiracy theory that the fire in Notre-Dame de Paris was not accidental. You need to say that the guy remains a pompous, miserable, Islamophobic narcissist and give the said album a one-star rating. Maybe two stars, if you are feeling generous. 

Which is not to say that Morrissey does not invite such perfunctory criticism (he does like to present himself as a martyr, and the lyrics of "Notre-Dame" are indeed nothing to be proud of) - but can we please get below the surface level and see that Make-Up Is Lie is, in fact, a tuneful, diverse, instrumentally rich collection of songs (some of his best in a while)? Sung in that inimitable voice that hasn't lost any of its power? 

My biggest criticisms of the album are the following:

- The cover isn't great.

- The title song compensates a sparse, non-descript verse melody with a catchy but obnoxious chorus.

- While full of energy and featuring some fiery guitar freakouts, the cover of Roxy Music's "Amazona" was not really necessary. 

And that is that, really. Despite the dodgy lyrics (which he actually made slightly more palatable - the original version would have got him buried even deeper by the British press), "Notre-Dame" is actually a brilliant synthpop single. Elsewhere, "Headache" is one of his best and most melodically rich ballads in years (clever guitar insertions, too). "The Night The Pop Dropped" is funky and intense. "Kerching Kerching", despite its abrupt ending, is a sweeping symphonic pop-rocker with decent lyrics full of bitterness and false hope. Best of all, though, is the closing "The Monsters Of Pig Alley" whose deceptively upbeat melody and wistful lyrics will break your heart. The song is a true masterwork and an early contender for my song of the year.

Humour is, as usual, in short supply - even if the autobiographical "Zoom Zoom The Little Boy" could probably qualify. It is a tale of an impressionable boy (young Morrissey, obviously) who wants to save all animals in the world ("squiggles of the deep" is an amusing turn of phrase, I will give him that). The song is somewhat silly but very infectious. Otherwise, the only hint at Morrissey's sardonic humour is the "naked ladies on the wall" line in "Lester Bangs" - but that one is more awkward than good. 

How does Make-Up Is A Lie stand up against Morrissey's past albums? Well, it is clearly not as great as Vauxhall & I or even Your Arsenal, but how much worse is it, really, than the relatively well-received World Peace Is None Of Your Business? Or even something as beloved as You Are The Quarry? Honestly, just listen to the goddamn music. 

Three films. Underrated.

While there were enough great films in 2025 that got universal acclaim, these three deserved more. 

Anniversary (2025) dir. by Jan Komasa 

I have already written a full review of this, but I would like to stress once again that Anniversary by the Polish director behind Corpus Christi is one of the most unjustly ignored films of 2025. Due to its explosive content (prescient, horrific), the film received next to no publicity. A shame, really, because this dystopian story of American future (present?) is frankly devastating.

Yes, there are certain problems here (mainly with the tone which is a little patchy), but overall this produces one hell of an impression. And again, I admire Komasa's guts for going to the US and doing this. Also, I don't think it is physically possible to hate anyone more than you will hate Dylan O'Brien while watching this film. 

Blue Moon (2025) dir. by Richard Linklater

The most surprising thing about this film is that it is not, in fact, a play. Blue Moon looks very much like something you would see in a theatre. Basically, the whole film revolves around one evening in a bar, a few characters and a heartbreaking unraveling of one man. Ethan Hawke plays Lorenz Hart, the famous lyricist who made up one part of the legendary Rodgers-Hart songwriting duo. It is early spring in 1943, and Hart is there to meet his songwriting partner who is currently working with a different lyricist (Oscar Hammerstein II) and who is about to celebrate the great success of his new musical Oklahoma!

A talkative, foul-mouthed Hart is willing to speak to anyone who wouldn't mind listening. A barman, a journalist, a guy who delivers flowers, a girl he thinks is in love with him, a young aspiring pianist playing nearby. There is a lot of bitterness here, and false hopes, and failed romance, and love for art and music. The conversations with Rodgers (played by Andrew Scott), when we get to them, are painful and revealing, but a certain hope is always there. You want him to succeed, against all odds. He is the man, after all, who wrote the lyrics of "My Funny Valentine". A powerful little film, and Ethan Hawke deserves every award for this performance.

Hallow Road (2025) dir. by Babak Anvari

Again, a somewhat subdued, almost intimate piece that was overshadowed by much flashier films in 2025. But I loved this to bits. Hallow Road is a psychological thriller that manages to mess up with your mind in a very creative manner (watch the end credits). 

A couple (played by Rosamund Pike and Matthew Rhys) receive a distressed phone call from their daughter with whom they had just had an awful row. Apparently, she got into a terrible car accident and needs their help. We do not even get to see the young woman, just hear her voice. Naturally, Pike's and Rhys's characters drive through the night to save her, and all kinds of bizarre things come to light on their way. 

Hallow Road is just 80 minutes long, and it is so fucking tense it won't let you relax for one second. Again, a brilliant little film, with quite an ending.

Cult albums: COLOUR GREEN by Sibylle Baier

Colour Green is a very deceptive title. After all, there is nothing especially 'green' about this album, whether we are talking about the sepia-imbued cover or the actual musical content. And yet the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. First, the colour in question invokes the cover of Nick Drake's classic debut Five Leaves Left from 1969 (which was surely an inspiration for Colour Green). Second, it creates a certain out-of-sync and out-of-time feeling that is further backed up by the story behind this album's release.

Sibylle Baier is a German folk singer and actress, and yet it is quite hard to say either of those things with full confidence. After all, she recorded but one album, and her only acting credit is a minor appearance in Wim Wenders's Alice In The Cities (1973). Colour Green was recorded in her home in Germany between 1970 and 1973 but remained unknown and unreleased until 30 years later when her son compiled the scattered recordings on a CD and gave it to J Mascis of the American alternative band Dinosaur Jr. J Mascis was so impressed that he passed the songs to the Orange Twin Records label who promptly released them in 2006. Since then, the album has achieved a legendary status and a cult following. 

It is a great story, of course, but it wouldn't be nearly as interesting if the music wasn't special. After all, we have heard enough cult albums where the context overshadows the actual music. Colour Green is not one of those albums. Instead, it is a self-contained world of pastoral elegance and melodic brilliance that is sustained all through its brief, but magical, 33 minutes. Colour Green is a world unto itself.

In a nutshell, Colour Green is a haunting guitar-based folk album. It is mostly made up of short ballad-like vignettes which are both evocative and disarmingly beautiful. The material is very even. "Tonight" is the album's most famous tune, but that is perhaps because it comes first. After all, songs like "Remember the Day" and "Forget About" (possibly the most achingly gorgeous thing ever written) are hardly any worse. There is very little variation on the album, although one could argue that "Softly" is almost upbeat and "Wim" is almost playful. Oh and the closing "Give Me a Smile" features an orchestrated string section and an electronic organ (apparently Baier plays a steel-string guitar here instead of a nylon-strung one). 

I don't remember who it was who said that February is a Tuesday of the year. Ever since I first heard this album ten or fifteen years ago, I've always felt this was a perfect Tuesday album. "Tonight, as I get back from work...". There is a certain wistfulness to Colour Green, a certain melancholy, but once in a while you encounter beauty that transcends sadness, and gives hope. Colour Green is precisely that. 

Book review: LUBLIN by Manya Wilkinson

Manya Wilkinson's Lublin (2024) is yet another addition to my list of perfect little novels. Others include Seize The Day by Saul Bellow, Pnin by Vladimir Nabokov and The Sense Of An Ending by Julian Barnes (the list goes on, obviously). Its perfection lies in the fact that there isn't a breath wasted or a word misplaced. The prose is beautiful and concise, and the emotional range goes from hysterical laughter to tears of despair. Some works of art you savour, not merely read, and Lublin is one of those books. 

The plot is fairly simple, and gives off the vibes of an old Jewish fable: three friends embark on a journey to a city none of them have ever been to. This is the very beginning of the 20th century, and the city in question is Lublin (f0r the record, my second favourite Polish city, after Poznan). They don't know much about the place, and have a vague understanding of its location. There is a sense, though, that this city, this mythological metropolis, is the greatest place on Earth. It has the most beautiful girls. The best wine and the best food. It's a place of opportunities where you can make money and fall in love. 

Elya is the one with the map. He loves to tell jokes (the jokes are decidedly hit and miss) and has this magical ability to conjure them on the spot and under the most vexing circumstances. Most importantly, he wants to be a businessman and carries a set of brushes that the three friends are planning to sell at the Lublin market. He is the one with the big idea, and he is the one who pushes the whole company forward. The two other friends are Kiva (comes from a rich family, knows all about Adoshem and prays incessantly) and Ziv (Kiva's cousin; hates Russians but likes Dostoevsky, wears bad shoes and will beat you up for fun), and they need to be persuaded all the time that this whole journey is not a complete waste of time.

As you would expect from a good old fable, there are hardships and adventures along the way. Temptations, selflessness, acts of real friendship, betrayal. The backdrop is very vivid, and you never get to forget the time period. 1906. There are despicable crooks along the way, and drunk Russian soldiers. In the meantime, Lublin remains desirable but elusive. Kiva wants to go back home. Ziv wants to get to the Village of Girls (does it even exist?) And even Elya has crises of faith that almost force him to abandon the whole thing and go back home to his girlfriend and sorry family business. 

There are two types of book titles, as Martin Amis wrote in the introduction to London Fields. Those that denote things which are already there. And those that are 'present all along', that 'live and breath, or try to, on every page'. Manya Wilkinson's Lublin is a curious case in that it exists between two of those types. Lublin is a little like Beckett's Godot. It is already there, and yet it barely even exists. 

The grim realism of Lublin is absolutely harrowing, and yet it is a very elegant, poetic book. I loved these three characters to bits, and was with Elya all the way. I believed him, too, every time he uttered those magical words:  

"Wait till we get to Lublin".