Album of the Month: DOGREL by Fontaines D.C.

In case I am overrating this album a little - please know that I am willing to do so. After all, when was it last time that I was this excited about a modern debut record?

'Dogrel' alludes to a particular type of working class poetry once big in Ireland. It is a fitting title as 'working class poetry' is exactly what this album is about. Working class poetry sung in thick Irish accent so high on attitude they can get away with repeating the word 'tyre' eight straight times (in the incredible "Sha Sha Sha", which may or may not be their take on "London Calling"). 

The sound of Fontaines D.C. is not unique, so what impresses me most is its undeniable freshness. Freshness, urgency, spiritedness. I guess the sound does owe something to The Fall, but then Mark E. Smith would probably say they remind him of Steely Dan. Be that as it may, Fontaines D.C. build their songs around infectious grooves that pump tons of blood to your heart - if not, in fact, to your limbs that have not danced to a decent song in ages. 

Some complain about the bad mix, but I do not hear it. As far as I am concerned, these people should either get out more or listen to the goddamn tunes. Because the tunes are emphatically great - in fact, most of them had come out as singles prior to the release of the album. Out of these, the opening "Big" is a standout; one minute forty six seconds of pure guts, attitude and classic lines. "Liberty Belle" is almost as good, and almost as short, but even with lengthy five-minute grooves they are fully capable of holding your attention ("Hurricane Laughter", "The Lotts"). They are not afraid of repetition, but that is because they know they are on to something here.

They do beautiful, too, and "Roy's Tune" (I have heard people compare that intro to The Go-Betweens, no less) is a masterful working class ballad whose lyrics do resonate. And it is most welcoming to see them take on rootsy Irish music on the closing "Dublin City Sky" which is as derivative as it is special - coming as it does on the heels of the propulsive, James Joyce name-dropping, cool-as-fuck-and-we-know-it "Boys In The Better Land". 

And it is important. I believe Fontaines D.C. know exactly how good they are, but for once this overconfidence is justified. They come fully formed, to the extent that I am slightly afraid for their future. And excited about it, in equal measure.

My Cultural Lowlights: WEYES BLOOD

These days, it almost seems arbitrary, the way people choose a new record to gush over. They call it the best album of the month, year, decade, ever. They tweet about it a lot more than they actually listen to it. They lionise it beyond all reason. So that when the time comes and you actually give it a good listen, you roll your eyes to Heaven and you say 'well, all right...'.

Happens to be Weyes Blood this time. And when I say 'happens', I do not mean 'bad'. Far from it. Titanic Rising is a lovely record, dreamy, nostalgic and self-consciously gorgeous. Take "Everyday", for instance. The song, possibly the biggest highlight on the album, is an ideal throwback to the hippy era of loose jeans, daisy chains and the smell of patchouli. Is it bad? Not with a sweeping chorus melody like that. But equally, it is so inescapably unexceptional that you almost have to wonder why the goddamn acclaim. Or take "Movies", a song praised to an almost hilarious extent. So meticulously pretty you cannot breathe. But then neither can the song. 

Part of me is almost ready to believe that this is all calculated - and the universal elation was the effect of some deliberately constructed equation. A conspiracy. Some clever ploy. Or maybe this is just the way some people are struggling with boredom - by choosing some random record and going nuts over it. Because while Titanic Rising does have its appeal, God knows parts of it are just plain dull. And I know that 'dull' is hardly an esoteric word, not the sort people use when describing this album, but occasionally it's very pleasing to say something straightforward in the world ruled by waves, tides and a four-letter word that rhymes with 'shepherd's pipe'.

My Cultural Highlights: SHOPLIFTERS

In a recent conversation with Sam Harris, psychologist-cum-economist Daniel Kahneman spoke about memories that have the annoying tendency of getting in the way of our experiences. As an example, he talked about this guy listening to a beautiful classical record and then becoming frustrated by the screeching noise of the vinyl. Which, this guy believes, ruins the whole thing - the noise being the sole memory left of the experience. Naturally, Professor Kahneman mentions how absurd this notion really is - after all, there was one full hour of great music before that noise, and no one can take that away from the listener. No matter how exasperated the listener may appear to be.

My relationship with Shoplifters, the winner of last year's Cannes festival, has a lot to do with what I have just described. The film, which is set in modern-day Tokyo and tells of a dysfunctional family involved in shoplifting and various other dubious activities, provoked in me various shades of confusion, anger, irritation. The constant slurping of noodles. The unlikable characters. The perverted nature of the relationships, both sexual and non-sexual. Most of the time, I kept being reminded why it is that, Kurosawa and Miyazaki aside, I never cared for Japanese culture whose otherness has always seemed as off-putting as the taste of sushi.

Then, however, I fell in love with Shoplifters, and it took the final scene to do that. Just a couple of minutes of a little girl on the balcony, with no words spoken except for a famous English counting rhyme that she keeps repeating again and again. "One, two, buckle my shoe...". And then there is something else she does - something that stays with you long after you have stopped watching the film. Something that made the whole experience so valuable as to seem priceless. Suddenly, there was no slurping and there was no vulnerable Japanese guy lying in the lap of a girl who undresses for money. Or, rather, it all did happen, but it was all part of a raw, bruising and still very humane story which is as much about memory as it is about experience. 

travelling notes (lxxxiv)

In my heart of hearts, I know that the three best places in Europe are Lucca, Dublin and Odessa... in that order. 

Скетчи про Минск. Интерес к жизни.

Если я за что-то и люблю китайских туристов, то лишь за то, что им нет до тебя никакого дела. Им наплевать. Их взгляд не улавливает твоих черт и даже твоих очертаний. Тебя не существует. Ты - пыль, фон, скучное привидение. Даже если ты будешь ехать в узком поезде лондонского метро, а напротив будет сидеть одинокий китайский студент без телефона в руке, то он все равно не увидит тебя. А если увидит, то лишь на мгновение, и ты об этом все равно не узнаешь. 

В Минске о таком можно только мечтать. В Минске - и это особенно заметно после долгого путешествия - люди любят смотреть друг на друга. Тот факт, что это невежливо или попросту глупо, никому не приходит в голову. И если косые взгляды в Kindle еще можно понять (или хотя бы простить), то это пристальное подсматривание вызывает раздражение. Хуже того - тоску. 

Когда кто-то однажды сказал мне, что прическа молодого человека напротив выглядит нелепо, я только улыбнулся. И предположил, что прически молодых людей не должны входить в круг проблем тех, кто сидит напротив. И потом - не как ли угодно. На что человек вполне решительно возразил мне, что одно дело носить какую угодно прическу в Нью-Йорке или Париже, и совсем другое - носить какую угодно прическу в Минске. Это опасное допущение, и я не готов его принять.

Разумеется, этот взгляд существует всюду, и не только в мире постсоветской неудовлетворенности (хотя в Киеве его мало, а в Петербурге - еще меньше), но все-таки... Что есть в этом взгляде? Апатия? Любопытство? Скука? Мания комплексов и внутренней несвободы? Желание сравнить, подсмотреть, осудить? Трудно сказать. Но я точно знаю, чего там нет: интереса к жизни. А иначе как объяснить то, что здесь так редко смотрят в глаза, когда разговаривают?