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Wednesday, July 28, 2004
This Intelligence Report Just InNot feeling too clever at the minute, which, depending on your perspective, is either a rare moment of self-awareness or just an acknowledgment that I'm ill and unable to blog in a meaningful fashion (no change there, then).
Quote Of The Week, meanwhile, comes from some publisher dude at the NME who gets a media gong and puff piece in The Independent for turning around the fortunes of the music weekly -
"It's not NME's fault that the world has moved on as it has. We can't stand out there and be alternative; commercially that would be suicide now."
Hmm. Now if it wasn't bad enough being caught whining that the problem with not selling out is there's just no profit in it, let's just let the facts sink in about NME's 'revival' under this guy's award-winning stewardship. He took a magazine that was selling at an (all-time?) low of 70,000 in 2002, spent multiple thousands relaunching it, and (cue fanfare) their readership now stands at 'above 72,000' (as opposed to 120,000 in the Britpop mid-nineties). Media success stories, don't you just love 'em?
Saturday, July 24, 2004
Saturday Night Spiritual GuidanceMaybe Parallax View has just been spending too much time recently listening to dark, serious rock music, but it doesn't seem like 2004 has exactly been a vintage year to date for R&B;/hiphop. Perhaps a hot new face/voice is needed on the scene, so welcome to Estelle, whose 1980 (Year That God Made Me) gets the nod for Parallax View Single Of The Week. The song features the feisty young British rapper waxing wittily about her tough but colourful upbringing set against a bold and brassy production, giving it the feel of a timeless summer hit. Estelle, then: reassuringly expansive.
Meanwhile, it's been several long months since I first heard tracks from Soviet Kitsch by Regina Spektor on Jon Kennedy's Xfm show, but finally the record has been given a proper UK release by Shoplifter Records so it can be awarded PV Album Of The Week. Combining Russian kookiness with New York attitude, Spektor provides the missing link between Vanessa Carlton and Scout Niblett with her quasi-classical folk music shot through with a semi-improvised feel. Stand out tracks include Poor Little Rich Boy and Chemo Limo, but really it's all good, and definitely worth an investigation if you have a healthy passion for female singer-songwriters.
Can also recommend The Rapture Is Live And Well In New York City on DVD. I've never been a big one for live music DVDs but now I have a TV with decent sound, it's a more appealing concept. The big difference with this one is that it's filmed in a relatively small arena (Bowery Ballroom Club in NY) so it has the sweaty, intimate feel of the best kind of indie gig. It's also a big advantage that The Rapture are one of the best live acts du jour, and this show was filmed just a few weeks before I saw them deliver an outstanding performance in Birmingham. You also get the promo videos for House Of Jealous Lovers; Sister Saviour and Love Is All in addition to the 50-minute show, but it's quality not quantity that's the biggest selling factor of this disc.
Oh, and Sacha Distel RIP. Presumably something heavier than a raindrop fell on his head this time around. The Gallic crooner was 71.
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
In briefFirst off, many happy returns to Captain Paulos of the good ship Anglepoised and secondly, good luck to Ben who's guest-blogging over at Troubled-Diva over the next couple of weeks. This guest-blogging malarkey is very fashionable at the moment, and although it gives people like Ben a deserved opportunity to widen his exposure, and I'm not singling out the tribbly diva for criticism here, I can't help feeling that generally it smacks a bit of taking your website a little too seriously. This news just in: the world *will* keep turning if your blog doesn't update while you're on holiday, or otherwise busy, drunk or hungover. Which is a bit of a relief all round, really, not least for Superman (who, after all, *has* just lost his dad).
Paul Foot RIP. There was a good piece on the renowned investigative journalist by Mark Steel in today's Independent but it's already in their pay-archives so I shan't link to it.
The Fiery Furnaces' inexorable rise to world domination continues with a 9.6/10 Pitchfork review for new album Blueberry Boat.
Shola: Ama Coke Fiend. Let's not tell her no-one can remember who she was or what she sung - the poor dear's probably paranoid enough already.
For reasons a little too elusive for PV to grasp, Juliette Lewis is back in fashion. Chuck Palahniuk even ditches his dayjob to interview Geoffrey's gal about Bob De Niro's clean thumbs and how to 'become a rack'. Strange days, indeed.
Mercury Music Prize nominees in. No Moz or Jamie Cullum, but apart from that no alarms and no surprises in the selection. If there's any justice in this world, the choice will be between Basement Jaxx, Belle & Sebastian and The Streets. But of course there *is* no justice in the world, so stick your shekels on Joss Stone instead.
Jessica Alba is The Invisible Girl in the Fantastic Four movie adaptation. Nah, can't see it, myself.
Congratulations to Anja on her explosive piece of nanofiction being selected for inclusion on Warren Ellis' Die Puny Humans (scroll down page to last story and cute pic).
And finally...So Says I, LA hipster blogging complete with neat design, courtesy of Kerry, covering The Walkmen, Palahniuk and Showgirls, amongst others.
Monday, July 19, 2004
Half Term Report - SinglesParallax View gives its immodest musings on the best releases in the single format between January 1st and June 30th of 2004 in the UK.
1. Tropical Ice-Land - The Fiery Furnaces
2. Baby You Should Know - Joy Zipper
3. For Lovers - Wolfman ft. Pete Doherty
4. Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand
5. So Says I - The Shins
6. The Rat - The Walkmen
7. Jessica - Adam Green
8. Milkshake - Kelis
9. This Is For The Poor - The Others
10. Stumble And Fall - Razorlight
11. Lola Stars And Stripes - The Stills
12. Mr Brightside - The Killers
13. You Can't Hurry Love - The Concretes
14. Long Time Coming - Delays
15. The Letter - P J Harvey
16. Changes Are No Good - The Stills
17. Fit But You Know It - The Streets
18. Formed A Band - Art Brut
19. Trick Me - Kelis
20. Freakin' Out - Graham Coxon
Sunday, July 18, 2004
Half Term Report - AlbumsThis is the not-so-humble Parallax View deliberation on the best albums released between January 1 and June 30 of 2004 in the UK. As ever, PV reserves the right to change its mind within 5 minutes of posting. A similar verdict on singles during this period due imminently. As far as I am aware, all discs listed are available via Amazon.
1. BOWS+ARROWS - THE WALKMEN
2. Logic Will Break Your Heart - The Stills
3. A Grand Don't Come For Free - The Streets
4. Liars - Todd Rundgren
5. DJ Kicks - Erlend Oye
6. American Whip - Joy Zipper
7. The Concretes - The Concretes
8. The Power Out - Electrelane
9. Shine A Light - The Constantines
10. Uh Huh Her - P J Harvey
11. Chutes Too Narrow - The Shins
12. Our Endless Numbered Days - Iron and Wine
13. Trampin' - Patti Smith
14. Tasty - Kelis
15. Riot On An Empty Street - Kings Of Convenience
16. Margerine Eclipse - Stereolab
17. Sonic Nurse - Sonic Youth
18. Franz Ferdinand - Franz Ferdinand
19. You Are The Quarry - Morrissey
20. Seven Swans - Sufjan Stevens
All in all, a pretty strong six months for albums, and with new releases due in the next few months from The Fiery Furnaces; Ladytron; Interpol; The Duke Spirit; Radio 4 and Tanya Donelly, 2004 is shaping up rather well, don't you think? But if you think I'm wrong, or are seething at the exclusion of your personal favourite(s), aim your vitriol in this 'ere direction.
Saturday, July 17, 2004
PRAGUE - AN A-CZ GUIDE I trust you're not expecting an article full of cultural insight, as I was a comrade-in-arms in a nine-man stag party, and as you know any large group of Englishmen refuse to do anything as 'poncey' as partaking in indigenous culture or food. The British tourists' taste for fast food and cheap women has resulted in Prague becoming a strange but quite fetching mix between Trumpton and Whitley Bay. Cultural imperialism at its most perverse, as I'm sure you'll agree.
A is for Alcohol. But, of course. Although strangely not for Absinthe, of which I did not imbibe at all.
B is for Beastie Boys. Flyposters for whom swarmed the city. Cz-Cz-Cz czech-it-out! B is also for broccoli, liberally supplied on many of Prague's pizzas. Not that this is a bad thing. Refusing to indulge in broccoli turns you into George Bush Snr, so let that be a warning to you.
C is for Cows. Prague was full of various cows over the weekend, part of Cow Parade, a public art project in aid of childrens charities. Stockholm and Manchester (the Inspiral Carpets would surely have approved) are also participating, apparently. Best of all was Discow, a silver glitter construction.
D is for Desperados. A lager-based drink laced with Tequila consumed in a mexican bar, several of which went down smoothly enough for a rogueish 5.9%.
E is for 'Ello West 'Am, How Are You? Which is the strangest approach line ever been used on me by a lapdancer. I politely declined, of course.
F is for Finnish Girls. The only girl that approached me in a club who wasn't after my wallet was a stoned young Finnish woman. I didn't get her name. 'I'm not interested in that conversation, I just want you to dance with me' said she-who-must-remain-anonymous. Which was fair enough by me...you've just gotta love those straight-talking scandinavian sexbombs, right? And her hair smelled really nice for someone who a few minutes earlier had been rolling around the beer-soaked dancefloor sixty-nining her best friend.
G is for Garni Nusle. Or Hotel Garni Nusle to be more precise, the garish green garrison that provided a roof over our heads and lager in our gullets 24/7. Followed by...
H is for Hangovers. 'Nuff said.
I is for Irritation. Of the likes my arse felt after using toilet paper that brought back unpleasant memories of my schooldays.
J is for Joke. Which is the only way to describe a pub called Caffreys Bar, using the Caffreys logo outside, that (you guessed it) doesn't sell Caffreys. Irish sense of humour, anybody?
K is for KFC. Full marks for the 'ironic' bronze bust of Colonel Sanders on the wall, and cuter staff than you'd expect back home. Marks lost though, for the zestless Zingers they served. Thank glastnost that K is also for Ketchup. And loads of it.
L is for Lesbians. The magic word that lured us into ever dingey bar in the city.
M is for Midget. You've not lived until you've seen a midget lapdancer shimmying around a dark club in a see-through negligee. And yes, she does get fed up of being asked if she rides for a quarter of the price.
N is for Nuns. See also L for Lesbians. Two girls ditched their habits for a theatrical display of public affection on a nightclub stage, erotic effect slightly dissipated by the fact they were both pissing themselves laughing (which kept the water sports enthusiasts entertained, no doubt). The Finnish girls (see F for Finnish Girls) were much more convincing, but then that's enthusiastic amateurs for you.
O is for Outbursts Of Rain. Although the weather was predominantly hot and sunny, when it rained it meant business. Luckily, Prague has many alcoves in which to shelter if you can't reach a bar in time.
P is for Poborsky. The Man Ure reject is still strangely popular in the Czech Republic it seems, based on the shirts being sold with his name emblazoned upon them.
Q is for Quiet. Maybe it's because it was mid-summer and many Prague citizens traditionally depart for their country cottages, but Prague was by far the quietest capital city I've visited. In the early hours of the morning the streets were deserted compared to, say, London or Madrid. In fact, the busiest places early hours were the fast food restaurants where Q also stood for Queues. Thirty years ago, Eastern European citizens regularly queued for bread. Now they just as patiently queue for zonked-out zingers. That's progress, I guess.
R is for Russian Taxi Drivers. Don't mess with them.
S is for Skodas. Some great old Skoda vehicles on view, although I feel that they are mainly driven 'cos that's all they can afford, rather than some western notion of retro chic.
T is for Towers. Prague has the oldest clock tower in Europe, at least according to some old bloke a little vexed on overhearing one of my comrades giving excited directions over his mobile phone to 'meet by this building with two fuck-off spires'.
U is for Unpleasant. Which is the mildest possible description for the state of the toilets in the trendy Marquis de Sade bar.
V is for Vanquished. Whereas in Britain the down-and-outs will fight and quarrel to their last breath, Prague's unloved have the stooped demeanour of victims resigned to their fate. Some desperately sad sights, I'm afraid.
W is for Watching. Public displays of, um, passion, quite common in Prague, like the couple 'coupling' in the corner of a certain Irish bar (see J is for Joke). Here, no-one tells you to get a room, they just pull up a chair and nod approvingly.
X is for X-Rated. All the stuff I can't post here, natch.
Y is for Y Not? Prague has a chilled, laidback, permissive feel. Which certain British citizens take full advantage of.
Z is for Zzzzzzz Which is what I needed to catch up on after the weekend which left my poor liver squealing for liberation...
Thursday, July 15, 2004
Touched By The Hand Of Todd Todd Rundgren and The Liars, Birmingham Symphony Hall, Wednesday 14th July 2004.
So, prog-pop pioneer Todd Rundgren has returned with his first proper UK album release in over 10 years with the concept album Liars. Says Todd: 'all of these songs are about a paucity of truth. At first they may seem to be about other things, but that is just a reflection of how much dishonesty we have accepted in our daily lives. We are raised from birth to believe things that cannot be proven or that are plainly not true. People will often brag of their honesty, when there is so much they have simply chosen to ignore or leave unexamined. The fact is, we are terrified of the truth.'
And you can say what you like about concept albums, at least you know there's at least one idea in their head. But as fine as many of the sentiments expressed therein are, the album also works because, unlike his protege Prince, he hasn't forgotten to bring the tunes to his comeback party. Imagine Daryl Hall singing coruscating lyrics by Bill Hicks to a backdrop of pulsing Moroderesque synths and you have something of the flavour of this 14 track 80 minute labour of love on which Rundgren plays near enough all the instruments. Whatever your feelings on Rundgren (the man, remember, who produced 'Bat Out Of Hell') and prog-rock in general (and I'm guessing many of you will be ambivalent) 'Liars' is unquestionably one of the key works of the year to date: brave, ambitious, angry and literate pop music of the highest order.
And hello, it's him on stage in Birmingham at the Symphony Hall ('the most magnificent venue on our tour') and that's me within handshaking distance of the singer/songwriter, three rows from the stage alongside a gaggle of thirty/fortysomething wannabe groupies (the Toddster is nothing if not the Tom Jones of the Free Love generation). Framed by a quasi-religious arch, Rundgren opens with 'Truth' wearing a head-to-toe tunic that would make Jimi Tenor blush, later dispensed with to reveal a vest-top (not such a good fashion idea once you've hit 50 and that slight upper-arm flab shows on even the handsomest old devils) before he gets changed into a full yellow suit for the mellower second half of the show. Mr Rundgren also wears shades through the entire set of the indoor concert (although he does change pairs about halfway through): maybe he's sensitive to all the strobe lighting?
I'm guessing that Todd understands the irony of preaching about the perils of money-love in the robust funk of 'Mammon' to the assembled metropolitan elite of Birmingham, and other highlights include the brooding balladry of 'Past' and a supremely passionate 'Liars', which Rundgren links to a certain report published earlier today. To the audience, he says "Britain and America are like a couple of drunks in a bar, saying 'let's go beat up that Iraqi guy'". You can be as cynical as you like about a West Coast crooner suddenly finding his political conscience, but its preferable to many of the younger acts today who can only seem to get passionate about the jeans they're wearing (and selling).
Over the two hours of the set, there are occasional dips in interest, and the whole show now and then teeters on the edge of the worst excesses of 70s prog-concert pomposity (although we're at least spared a drum solo). However, the quality of the new material and Rundgren's evident good humour (he's lapping up the renewed attention to his career like an old dog rolling around in the sun) saves the show from sinking into excess. For the encores, Todd sings some of his popular tunes from the 70s like 'Hello, It's Me' and ah, the middle-aged ladies, they understand.
Related link: In-depth interview with Todd Rungren in The Independent.
Reasons To Be A Right Miserable Old Git, 1,2,3
1...Rickie Lee Jones pulling out of her Birmingham gig tonight at the last minute. As this was preceded by a downsizing of venue I'm assuming poor ticket sales was the primary factor.
2...The realisation that The Hammers' big summer signing is my least favourite player in the whole wide world. I hope we sign Andy Cole now, just to piss him off. And in other West Ham related news former winger Tricky Trev Sinclair has been arrested for an alleged assault on his wife. It's not the first time Tricky's been in a spot of off-field bother, it's reckoned that whereas some people see double after too many drinks, the boy Sinclair C5.
3...Arthur 'Killer' Kane, New York Dolls bassist, RIP. Morrissey, who curated this year's Meltdown Festival which saw the NYD's reunion, told 6music: "I will always remember the look of bashful happiness on Arthur's face as people in the audience constantly called out his name. He was finally back where he belonged."