tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20625308688633985392024-03-13T11:50:04.117-07:00The Crozier ReportWelcome to my world. If you're into movies, music, literature and keeping up with events around the world - you've come to the right place! You'll find my thoughts on all of the above as well as other musings on various subjects that fascinate me. Enjoy!Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-82980691980632344752015-02-02T06:50:00.000-08:002015-05-06T02:47:59.940-07:00<br />
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Hoo-boy, back in action! Apologies for the long delay between posts but that is LIFE, baby, the bills have to paid, etc etc. So without further ado, let's get down to it!</h2>
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<b>59. R.E.M. - Chronic Town (1982) </b></h2>
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Back when I was still a dumb-ass high school student my buddy Chris lent me this LP. I took it home and my life was never the same again. It was only five songs but it was the equivalent of a seismic event in my tiny little world. Once the second track, <i>Gardening at Night</i>, kicked in I was totally under their spell. My brain reeled trying to take it all in. What WAS this shit? WTF was Michael Stipe singing about? Was this even singing? All I knew was that it sounded like nothing else I'd ever heard, and it had a unique power unlike anything else around at that time, with the possible exception of Echo and the Bunnymen. Those two bands would dominate the early and mid-80s for me, along with a dozen others, including legends like Violent Femmes, The Replacements, The Blasters and Jason and the Scorchers. But R.E.M. had a lock on that most valuable of all ingredients for a budding rock band - mystery. And Chronic Town was the ultimate expression of their art. Even though they went on to be a major rock band and racked up millions of dollars worth of record sales, they never really surpassed that first EP in terms of intensity and pure rock and roll magic. It was a pivotal moment when the needle of my cheap shit turntable hit the first groove of <i>Wolves, Lower</i>. Not just for me but the entire planet. When this little five track grenade exploded it was the signal that we were about to begin the most fertile period of musical expression the world had seen since the late sixties. Little did we know it seems increasingly likely to be the last the world will ever experience. <br />
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<b>58. Rage Against the Machine - Battle of Los Angeles (1999)</b></h2>
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Some people may find it a little weird to see this band on this list. They were controversial on many levels when they were around. They were intensely confrontational, sung about difficult social issues, pissed all over corporate America at every turn and yet they were hugely popular (well, their first album was anyway). Given their extreme views against corporates people were quick to accuse them of hypocrisy for signing to a major label which probably made them a lot of dough (like that's something to be ashamed of). In any event, the band had its own problems and by the time they got to <b><i>Battle of Los Angeles</i></b>, there was a lot of issues piling up and putting a strain on relationships, which had showed on the disappointing <b><i>Evil Empire</i></b>. Which made this, the follow up<b><i> </i></b>record, that much more remarkable. BOLA is definitely not the sound of a band falling apart. Its their best record by a long chalk in my opinion and looking back now, after all the bullshit and jealous sniping has faded away, they were really a pretty awesome unit.<br />
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First off, there are very few bands on earth who can reach the intensity of RATM when they are in full roar. Secondly, they were consummate musicians and it shows here on every track. That sounds like a wonky statement, but anyone who doesn't have a tin ear should be able to appreciate their abilities to create an insanely exciting racket. They also conjure up a degree of atmosphere on songs like <i>Ashes in the Fall</i> that is almost cinematic in the vividness of its detail. Tom Morello is of course legendary in what he can do with a guitar but its how he works seamlessly with the rhythm section of drummer Brad Wilk and bass genius Tim Commerford that makes this band so incredibly powerful. And then there's Zack de la Rocha, who I consider to be one of the most kinetic and riveting performers ever. Yeah, OK, both personally and politically he may have had problems up the wazoo but a huge amount of RATM's appeal can be credited directly to him.<br />
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<i><b>Battle of Los Angeles</b></i> is all vintage RATM subject matter but what sets it aside from the two earlier releases is that it just kicks serious ass from the word go. Over the first four tracks it achieves such a high level of intensity it sounds like the final testament from the last band on the planet who are witnessing the whole shithouse going up in flames before their eyes (bear in mind it was recorded in 1999). As it turned out it WAS their last testament bar the covers record <i><b>Renegades</b></i> and it sounds like they put every last ounce of creative energy and juice they had left into it. The level of energy and fury this record achieves is mind-blowing. The other thing that always impresses the shit out of me is the remarkable variety and creativity of these soundscapes. You'd think a rapper fronting a rock band would get lame fast but BOLA is chock full of cool ideas, possibly peaking with the incredible <i>Mic Check</i> which amply demonstrates just how much potential this genre hybrid had. Potential which I think only RATM and possibly the Beastie Boys ever fully realised. <br />
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Much credit for this must go to Morello, a musical prodigy of epic proportions who straddled both the hip hop and rock worlds. He's never been more resourceful with his amazing guitar skills than he is on BOLA. But at the end of the day, this is the sound of band moving and playing together as a unit, at the height of their creative powers. When they finally imploded they left a big hole. I highly doubt we'll ever see their like again.<br />
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57. <b>Rollins Band - Hard Volume (1989)</b></h2>
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If you go through this list, it will become immediately apparent that one thing always impresses me where music - or any artistic endeavour - is concerned. That thing is <i>intensity</i>. Henry Rollins in his youth had enough of this ingredient to fill a warehouse and of course he poured it into some of the most extreme music you'll ever hear on this planet, beginning with his legendary stint with punk freaks Black Flag. After he left BF and formed Rollins Band, he was going through a period of his life which fed into his already highly developed sense of alienation and sociopathy, resulting in a remarkable period of creativity that is unmatched by any other artist working at that time that I am aware of.<br />
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These early RB albums were gathered on a fantastic box set (now unfortunately out of print) by some obscure British label who dubbed it <i><b>Audio Airstrike Consultants 1986 - 1988</b></i>, for some reason that escapes me. The set includes the records <i><b>Hot Animal Machine</b></i>, <i><b>Live 1987/1988</b></i>, <i><b>Life Time</b></i> and <i><b>Hard Volume</b></i>. However, my acquaintance with the other pieces came much later. My first exposure to <i><b>Hard Volume</b></i> was shortly after it was released at a time in my life when I was ripe for something as instructional as this record. In fact, the release I had was slightly different in that it ended with the awesome 25 minute live track <i>Joyriding with Frank</i>, which is now found on the <b><i>Live 1987/1988</i></b> re-release. I was aware of Black Flag and Henry of course but I never counted myself a huge fan that outfit or Henry at that time. I had also never heard anything by Rollins Band.<i><b> Hard Volume</b></i> changed all that in an instant.<br />
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I stated above that Rage's BOLA has few equals in my collection in terms of sheer intensity. That was a little bit of a reach. Henry Rollins in his early days had a total <i>lock</i> on intensity. Always one to wear his heart on his sleeve, his music was <i>in your face</i> to the nth degree. The cover art of the records at that time are an excellent pointer to the music within. Stark black and white photography (in this case Henry's naked torso, no sniggering at the back there Beavis!) and song titles. No extra bullshit, no pictures of the band posing, nothing quite so <i>pussyfied</i> as all that. It was something akin to a religious ceremony, a massive catharsis performed in public for all to see. He used to take to the stage in his gym shorts and nothing else bar multiple tattoos and with his new band - comprising Andrew Weiss, Sim Cain and Chris Haskett - behind him in full force, he would reach deep inside his guts and pull out all the things about society that sickened him. And there was a LOT that repulsed him. These 'shows' could last 2 hours easy. I deeply envy those who were lucky enough to witness them.<br />
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Remarkably <i><b>Hard Volume</b></i> followed on from a possibly even more intense predecessor called <b><i>Life Time</i></b> which many consider to be THE Rollins Band outing. While <b><i>Hard Volume</i></b> arguably does not quite match <b><i>Life Time's</i></b> blow torch intensity (it would be impossible for even HR to top the likes of <i>Gun in Mouth Blues</i>, I doubt anyone ever will) where it does excel is in terms of the amazing 3D landscape that the band manages to achieve as they give musical life to these brutal confessionals. The cool thing about the Rollins Band is while they could write straight ahead rock songs, they were never tied down to the format. <i><b>Hard Volume</b></i> stretches out. The songs are long, expansive, EPIC. Its probably wrong to even call them songs<i>.</i><br />
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Bear in mind there's only seven tracks to the whole thing (although the CD adds a few outtakes - including the incredible <i>Ghost Rider</i> - and demo versions to flesh it out a bit). Once you've moved past the <i>entres</i> and get to the main course of four tracks comprising <i>Planet Joe</i>, <i>Love Song</i>, <i>Turned Inside Out</i> and <i>Down and Away </i>you are deep into Henry's world at that time in his life. And what a world it is. I challenge anyone to listen to these four songs and not be affected. With this tracks Henry plumbed depths of his soul no ordinary human being could ever confront, let alone commit to an artistic statement that was intended for public consumption. Its a stunning achievement and the sheer 'take no prisoners' <i>ballsiness</i> of it left a deep and lasting impression on me.<br />
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56. Fugazi - In On the Killtaker </h2>
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Its hard to talk about Henry Rollins without thinking about Ian McKaye and Fugazi. They were good friends before Rollins joined Black Flag and together they would create some of the most memorable music of the 80s - a truly remarkable relationship. Fugazi were known for their political and punk rock ethos almost as much as their music, but this actually does them a disservice. They were rigidly committed to the music, never courting the mainstream press or doing anything to 'sell' themselves other than touring relentlessly and producing one superb album after another. They also started their own record label, Dischord, released all their own records, set the prices themselves (when I was living in the UK and hard up for dough, I actually used to buy Fugazi CDs because they were cheaper than all the others), controlled every part of the process so that they could do what they wanted on their own terms. On top of all that they were simply brilliant. Its actually hard to pick a Fugazi album to feature on this list, but <b><i>In On the Killtaker</i></b> was my introduction to the band and for me it remains their finest moment. although the next one <i><b>Red Medicine</b></i> was just as impressive in every way. Their sound became so influential at one point it seemed that every second band sounded like a Fugazi clone. Glassjaw, Quicksand, At the Drive In, Tar... just a few that come to mind. <br />
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55. <b>Bitch Magnet - Umber (1989) </b></h2>
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Which brings us to Bitch Magnet. Its hard to find a place for these guys on this list being as how they are easily one of the key influences on the entire post-punk hardcore movement. A trio based out of North Carolina, they released only two full length records that I am aware of - this one and <i><b>Ben Hur</b></i> which came out in 1990. Two! However, both are total fucking <i>monsters</i>. In fact either one could be here on this list and both deserve to be here. In truth, I'm not sure why I chose <i><b>Umber</b></i> over <i><b>Ben Hur</b></i>. Possibly because my release of <b><i>Umber</i></b> also contains the original release <i><b>Star Booty</b></i>. Anyway, nevermind.... get both! Its a damn shame they couldn't have kept it together long enough to do a third, although Sooyoung Park, genius frontman, did go on to make a couple of crackerjack records with his next band, Seam. At college when they started, the band later stated that their name as chosen as a joke - they were such geeks they couldn't get women to so much as look at them.<br />
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Therein lies a clue to their greatness. Like much great art, no doubt these epic tracks are fuelled by sexual frustration. However, not one to dwell on lyrics much, I was just attracted to the incredible <i>sound</i> of this record. There's only one guitar? Getthefuckouttahere! Its just incredible the ROAR that they managed to create. And the drumming... oh my freaking high hat! But what really makes the record so engaging - what makes it a stone classic - is the uniqueness of the compositions, which just nail that ever-popular LOUD /quiet dynamic and Sooyoung Park's awesome mumbling delivery (when he's not yelling like a nutter) that people would later swoon over when Slint did it on <i><b>Spiderland</b></i>. Hey, Bitch Magnet did it first, OK, so just, like, get over it.... I cannot understand a word Sooyoung Park is saying but so what. Works like gangbusters anyway and all credit must go to whoever recorded this. The mix is freaking insane! I would like to add that actually securing this record was a momentous achievement in my record collecting history (bear in mind this was prior to the old interwebz). It wasn't an easy one to come by, as the band released it in a tiny obscure label named The Communion Label. Wow, cool. However, a crowd of visionaries called Temporary Residence Ltd has now released a CD entitled simply <i><b>Bitch Magnet</b></i>, which contains ALL of their back catalogue, including their first EP, <i><b>Star Booty</b></i>. Apparently this is 'remastered' for digital which makes it very tempting. In fact I think I will add it to my Amazon cart right now. <br />
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<b>54. TAD - Salt Lick / God's Balls (1990/1989)</b></h2>
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<i>[OK, a little preamble first. I will freely admit that this list has changed a few times since I started it. I have a lot of records and they are scattered all over the house. So what happens whenever I sit down to write a piece for this list, I have to go and look for the actual fucking record if I don't have it on my hard drive (which is frequently the case) and then take another listen to it to refresh my memory. Which wouldnt be a problem EXCEPT my shit is totally disorganised. No alphabetical or anything like that. So I have to REMEMBER where the CD is. Yeah, ball ache! So in the process I sometimes come across something and think to myself, "oh fuck, this HAS to be on there..." which means something has to come off. Now I did have Screaming Trees' Dust on here as well, but damn it, they already had Sweet Oblivion, so I removed that and included THIS monster of a record, which is actually TWO albums, but so fucking what.... who cares!]</i><br />
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Alright alright alright .... enough of that, lets get back to it. Man, what can I say about THIS brute of a release? I picked it up in Tower Records in London - may that <i>great</i> store's soul rest in peace - that much I do remember. It should be pretty clear by now that I like hard guitar rock. I'm not apologising for that. If you were expecting more rap (which I do like, oddly enough) or folk (ditto) or fucking German techno, then tough shit! This is NOT the list for you. As I said earlier - <i>intensity</i> is what impresses me. And THIS record has it in spades. Great big heaping bulldozer heaps of it. I mean how can you NOT include a record called <i><b>God's Balls</b></i>? Its just not possible. OK just a quick bit of background. You all remember grunge right? Who can forget that shit? Well, Tad came out of that Seattle scene but they weren't grunge, nothing like it. God knows WHAT they were. A kind of hellacious metal/punk combo with a giant bearded nutjob as a frontman. Who was of course Tad Doyle. Now everyone who was into music at that time remembers the fat guy who led this band but by Christ not many remember that they were absolutely incendiary and played the absolute bejesus out of it. ESPECIALLY on these two records which came out in 1989 and 1990 respectively (yes, indeed those of you who are paying attention will have noticed: 1988 - 1990 was an <i>insane</i> couple of years for music!!!).<br />
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This release starts off with <i><b>Salt Lick</b></i> which is actually an EP and then goes into the debut album - the hilariously named <i><b>God's Balls</b></i>. <i><b>Salt Lick</b></i> is easily one of the most crushing records I have in my collection. It is MASSIVE. I don't know what these guys were on or smoking or drinking, whatever it was, they were seriously fired up when they did this record. It is just <i>brutal</i>. Recorded by Steve Albini it is unfortunately now quite muffled and requires that you crank it right up to appreciate all the finer details. I wish like hell someone would release a re-mastered version but that is unlikely. Although TAD were one of the best, most original and fiercest of the Sub Pop / Seattle bands they faded into relative obscurity quite quickly and their mates Nirvana and Soundgarden (I wont mention the other one that starts with P, even though I will confess to actually buying their debut album) went on to much bigger things. What a real shame. They were really something. In any event, this is an ESSENTIAL release if you ever want to burrow deeply into the pivotal '88 - '90 years and understand FULLY just what was going on in those heady days.<br />
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53. Tool - Lateralus (2001) </h2>
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Holy shit man, I can't believe how <i>good</i> this list is getting now. Practically every record from now on is going to be a freaking masterpiece. I have TWO Tool records on this mother raping list so you can appreciate that I really RATE these bastards. I don't really have a ton to say about this record. It came out in the mid-90s from what I recall. I remember getting into Tool when I was in London in '95-'96. That was an intense time for music, I was looking around for new stuff and I somehow got exposed to Tool. I think I read a review in on the of the Brit papers at the time and it sounded pretty intense. There was a picture of front man Maynard James Keenan performing at a gig and he <i>looked</i> pretty damn intense, that much I do remember. So I went out looking for their debut full length record, <i><b>Undertow</b></i>. For some stupid reason it was very hard to find, even in London. Well not so much hard to find as expensive, which is just as bad. In any event, I eventually sprung for it and since then I have bought every Tool release.<br />
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Tool remain something of an enigma. First off, these guys are hugely popular, which is not exactly the case with most of the bands on this list. There are no less than 1,784 separate reviews for this particular Tool record on Amazon. That's right, 1,784 people sat down and gave their thoughts on <b><i>Lateralus</i></b>. This all despite the fact that they make intensely convoluted and difficult music. Reason being is they are classified as 'metal'. And as any fule kno, there are millions of metal fans the world over, the vast majority of them spotty faced male teenagers but there you go. The other reason for their devotion to this band is the mystery factor. Tool have a lock on mystery. They are smart enough to do very little press, they only release a record once every few years, each one is a hugely anticipated affair. The packaging is always very complex and expensive. The songs are long, intricate affairs, most going on for well over 5 minutes. All of this sounds suspiciously like the sort of Prog rock you used to get in the mid-70s, by bands like Yes, Rush and King Crimson and indeed, there are elements of that in Tool's work but thankfully for us all, they still manage to rock like a sonofabitch despite all that. They are the real deal and create a massive sound that still manages to be intricate and delicate while at the same time assuming the crushing heaviosity of a runaway Panzer tank.<br />
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52. Pain Teens - Destroy Me, Lover (1993)</h2>
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So much promise unfulfilled. That's what I think of every time I listen to this record. I came across Pain Teens when they were part of a remarkable record label called Trance Syndicate which was started by King Coffey of Butthole Surfers fame some time in the early 90s. They were responsible for some insane releases by bands like Crust, Ed Hall, Cherubs, Drain, Today is the Day and several others. One of their best acts was Pain Teens, who released this fantastic album and two others - <b><i>Born in Blood</i></b> and <i><b>Beast of Dreams</b></i> - and then disappeared, to the best of of my knowledge. What a shame, because they were one of the most interesting and original acts to ever come out of that early 90s melting pot of musical creativity. Pretty much comprising two people - singer Bliss Blood and a talented knob-twiddler called Scott Ayers - Pain Teens created a vivid cinematic sound tapestry of amazing detail and complexity, hard to categorise and pin down. <b><i>Destroy Me, Lover</i></b> is notable for its remarkable variety, from the crunching heaviosity of <i>Tar Pit</i> to the bitter sweet croonings of <i>RU486</i> to the apocalyptic folk of <i>The Story of Isaac</i> to the chaotic and kaleidoscopic closer <i>Shock Treatment</i> its a mind-blowing display of virtuosity, carried along by Bliss Blood's intoxicating voice and song-writing ability. As such <b><i>Destroy Me, Lover</i></b> remains one of the most interesting and unusual records in my collection. Its just a shame they couldn't keep it together a bit longer.<br />
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51. Luna - Pup Tent (1997)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The New York Times once described Luna as New York City's <i>slyest</i> band and I have to agree with that statement. They've also been described by Rolling Stone as 'the best band you've never heard of'. Understated just doesn't begin to describe it. They make it sound so effortless you really have to wonder why they bother showing up. But show up they will - count on it. I'd actually owned this record for quite some time before it finally revealed itself to me. I wasn't actually even expecting to like it that much but I'd learned from experience with their first release that Luna always reward repeated listening and with patience all will eventually be revealed.<br />
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And then boom! we were playing at work one afternoon, getting ourselves in the mood for a forthcoming Christmas party, and it just hit me how brilliant it actually was. The opening track <i>IHOP</i> is a classic example. The slithering guitar track which announces it is accompanied by a jaunty little counterpoint and metronomic drums while Dean Wareham does his chatty voice over. It trips along, keeping you entertained with its witty observations until the guitar kicks in again, this time with much serious intent (and accompanied by what sounds like trumpets?!?) before it reaches its eargasmic crescendo. And that's just the first track. You realise then that you are in the presence of true <i>masters</i> of the art, totally in command of their medium. Which should come as no surprise, considering they have been doing this shit for longer than most people have been shaving. First achieving a modicum of fame as the late lamented Galaxie 500, a band famous for being so laid back it was practically catatonic. Luna rose from the ashes with <b><i>LunaPark</i></b> in '92.<br />
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My buddy Athol admired that record a lot and I bought it on his recommendation. They went on to release one consistently great record after another and even gained some acclaim. In fact, Luna are like the Wes Andersons of the music world, in that you pretty much know what to expect, but the experience is no less enjoyable for it. Rolling Stone added <i><b>Penthouse</b></i> to their list of the best 100 albums of the 90s but in my humble opinion they should've kept listening cos the following <b><i>Pup Tent</i></b> for me is their finest effort. Where Penthouse is very laid back, even for them, <i><b>Pup Tent</b></i> is a lot more urgent, probably their most upfront record, as if they finally decided to emerge from behind the velvet curtain and just <i>rock out</i>. If Luna had a fault, it was that they could be a bit twee, a bit too cutesy pie. <b><i>Pup Tent</i></b> dispenses with all that. In fact, these ten tracks add up to about as close to a perfect record as you will ever find. And it won't even demand any of your attention. At first. Put it on in the background and go ahead and attend to the housework or whatever the hell. Just know before long you will find yourself in front of the stereo, not quite remembering how you got there, but just knowing you wanted to take a closer listen to <i>that</i> song to see if you can figure how they did that. Oh yes, sly indeed...<br />
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I'm going to end it there and get this out, as we will now be going into the top 50 - woohoo!! Stay tuned...<br />
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<br />Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-36707857347972194092014-05-12T03:58:00.000-07:002015-01-25T07:06:58.009-08:00OK, let's keep this moving along.... my best 100 albums of the last 30 years, <b>69 - 60</b>... here we go!<br />
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<b>69. Califone - Roomsound </b><br />
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Um, this is a trifle embarrassing in that I hardly know ANYTHING about this band, other than some of the members, including frontman Tim Ritulli, used to play in Red Red Meat (you could call them an acoustic RRM if you really needed to pin them down) and I don't have anything else by them in my collection. I've been meaning to get another of their records, for years, but somehow never got round to it. Which is not to say that this isn't a brilliant album, because it is. This is easily one of the most <i>subtle</i> albums in my possession. I'm not really a fan of 'lo-fi' and I generally despise the term. I generally prefer stuff that is in your face. Right up in there. But Califone are pretty sneaky, in that they sneak up on you. At first its kind of 'meh' but by the time the chorus of track three Fisherman's Wife kicks in, followed by some wicked violin accompaniment, you know you are in the presence of something unique. They are multi-instrumentalists and tend to favour more obscure type instruments to boot. The music has the feel of something organic, something arcane, something buried in the archives of the Smithsonian Institute and only recently discovered. Blues and folk is definitely in there, but its not a sweaty delta blues, its more of a sunbaked desert sound, wide open, spacious and yearning. Suffice to say they are quite unlike anything else you have ever heard. And you should therefore make it your perogative to check em out. You won't be disappointed.<br />
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<b>68. Butthole Surfers - Psychic, Powerless... Another Man's Sac (1985)</b><br />
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Hoo-boy, where to start with these maniacs? Legends in their own lifetimes, Butthole Surfers courted outrage and controversy wherever they went. Starting with their name, they were more akin to a travelling circus troupe than a band. But underneath that ratshit crazy persona was a bunch of highly talented and creative dudes. and screamingly funny to boot. <i>Psychic, Powerless</i> was their second full length release where their lunacy really gelled into something vaguely coherent and uniquely Buttholian (yes, that is a real word). Granted, I used the term coherent loosely. Its like NOTHING else you've probably ever heard, right from the first track <b><i>Concubine</i></b> which like most of their stuff is impossible to describe, Psychic Powerless is something to play at top volume in 2am when the party is starting to wind down and you want to give everyone a blast of energy. Either than or send them running from the house so you can get some sleep. It's just so freaking WEIRD and disturbing its almost weapon-like and guaranteed to alienate 99% of people. I wouldn't be surprised if the US army deployed it as a psychological weapon against the Taliban during the recent conflicts. Their early stuff is impossible to classify but in later years they would even achieve a modicum of fame with a hit single on the radio from their 1996 album Electriclarryland. Listening to the gloriously psychedelic - and psychotic - chaos of songs like <b><i>Lady Sniff</i> </b> and <b><i>Cherub</i></b> in 1985, nobody would ever have believed that possible. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>L-R: Gibby Haynes, Paul Leary, short drunk guy, King Coffey - Buttholian!</b></td></tr>
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<b>67. Freakwater - Feels Like the Third Time </b><br />
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These are two chicks and a dude from Kentucky with a sound that is about as pure and 'bullshit-free' as its possible to get. Yes, there is a country influence, but its not in the tradition of the ten gallon hat and string tie wearing idiots that pass for country singers these days. <b><i>Feels Like The Third Time</i></b> doesnt have a weak song on it. Every track is written and performed by these gals. Its a homegrown, kitchen table classic in every sense of the word. What makes <b>Freakwater </b>particularly special is that are TWO lead singers. The one, Janet Beveridge Bean, has a high soprano that is pure Kentucky hill country. It will send chills down your spine. The other is that of Catherine Irwin, which is more earthy and classic country. But when they harmonise together .... that's when it really turns into something special and otherworldly. FLTTT is full of great tracks, as I said, but the highlight for me is <b><i>Sleeping On Hold</i></b>, which is just about as perfect a kitchen sink country song as you can get. With minimal backing the girls' voices just soar through the chorus, in a song about about how life just slips by when you're not noticing. I've noticed that many of their songs are actually about death. As sweet as these girls sound on the surface, their waters run dark and deep, and in those murky depths, big scaly things stir and occasionally break the surface. <br />
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<b>66. Labradford - A Stable Reference </b><br />
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OK now THIS is really something different.... the perfect record to lull you off to sleep. Ordinarily that wouldnt be considered a compliment but it really is a great record to put on if you want to drift off into dreamland. Its a damn sight better than listening to the dog down the road barking its ass off for 30 minutes straight anyway. Whenever I listen to this album I think of being on the flight deck of a space station, with nothing but millions of kilometres of black space separating me and the nearest human being. Yes, its something of a fantasy that I like to indulge in from time to time. Its a bit of a cop-out to describe music as 'spacey' but that's what this sounds like. Using organs and/or synthesizers and guitars, plus god knows what else, these guys create epic doomy gloomy soundscapes that ebb and flow hypnotically. It's not really space rock because there's really nothing rock about it. I don't know what you'd call it They're on cult indie label Kranky, so maybe that helps... call it Krank rock if you want! I don't know, just buy the damn thing... whatever you call it, its bloody gorgeous. They did another record called <b><i>Mi Media Naranja</i></b> which is like their 'desert' recording, and is also excellent. There's also a spin-off band called <b>Pan American</b> which is totally brilliant. Trust me, whatever these guys do is genius, they're like potato chips, once you start you can't stop...<br />
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<b>65. Husker Du - Zen Arcade </b><br />
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OK if you've been following this interminable thread you'll already know about Husker Du, three<b> </b>ordinary guys from Minneapolis who developed into one of the best power trios of the 80s/90s. <b><i>Zen Arcade</i></b> was considered their White Album because, well, its a double album to start with and it's full of great tracks! The cover design is also genius (to fully appreciate it though you want the LP cos naturally that's way better than the crappy CD packaging). Just buy it.... Husker Du are brilliant and if you like their chundering, frenetic punk rock anthems, you'll love this. It also contains some really awesome acoustic tracks on it as a bonus. I dont mean to speed through this one but really it's a no-brainer. If you're into great music (which means you're probably not a complete dork) you need to own this album - period!<br />
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<b>64. Dinosaur Jr - Where You Been?</b><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Fh9jMz2hLPk/UxBiAe6dXPI/AAAAAAAAAn8/0hTUMZVGdOM/s1600/Dinosaur_Jr_-Where_You_Been-Trasera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Fh9jMz2hLPk/UxBiAe6dXPI/AAAAAAAAAn8/0hTUMZVGdOM/s1600/Dinosaur_Jr_-Where_You_Been-Trasera.jpg" height="251" width="320" /></a>Fuck me, this is a great record. I've actually been driving around the last few days with this in my car and I can't believe this band isn't as big as the ever-loving Beatles. This album is like perfection. Its just perfect in every way. Every track is dead bang, they play the hell out of it, J's guitar solos are epic, its just a great, great album. This was their major label debut if I'm not mistaken, and you can tell that money was spent on it. The production is fantastic. Earlier records are also great, but they're murky as hell. Some people like that, for reasons I've never quite understood. Me, I like HI-FIDELITY. I like the sound to come busting out of the speakers and this record really does that. The amazing thing about Dino is they recently started recording again and their stuff is JUST AS GOOD as it was back then. Its like they never even stopped. To my eternal shame and embarrassment I haven't actually bought any of their new stuff but I've listened to <i><b>Farm</b></i> and <i><b>I Bet On Sky</b></i> and its total genius. You can't go wrong with any of their stuff, but if you prefer hi-fidelity like I do, then this or one of the more recent ones is definitely the best option. <br />
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<b>63. Royal Trux - Sweet Sixteen </b><br />
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OK I did say there would be a few Royal Trux albums on this list. Reason being is a) RX had a somewhat eclectic career and their music evolved over several stages and b) they are fucking brilliant 'kay? They started out making near indecipherable albums like <b><i>Twin Infinitives</i></b> and then evolved to the point where they got their shit together - at least musically - and started to become a bit more coherent. The peak of this phase was <b><i>Cats and Dogs</i></b> which is very much infused by their heroin usage (the album could be sub-titled <i>Diary of a Smackhead</i>). <b><i>Sweet Sixteen</i></b> is part of the third and final phase, the beginning of which saw them being signed to a major label (it's their second outing on a major label, following '95s <b><i>Thank You</i></b>.<br />
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Yes, even Royal Trux, the world's most shambolic band, scored a major label deal, such as the frenzy of major labels to land cool 'alternative' bands after the Nirvana breakout.) They recorded it with Virgin and bless their little hearts, they put everything into it. And by that I do mean everything! I guess having some actual money at their disposal went to their heads. Plus, I think they were able to record it in a fancy studio and had the luxury of time. In any event, multi-instrumentalist Neil Michael Hagerty let the 'muso geek' side of personality run free and threw so many bits and bobs onto the thing that its sometimes hard to figure out what is going on. Its got a bit of <b><i>Accelerator</i></b>'s craziness as well as a fair bit of the rockier, straight ahead vibe of their most 'normal' records which followed later.<br />
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Thankfully, the more basic 'rock out with your cock out' sensibilities of Jennifer Herrema were able to keep the thing on track and there are several awesome tracks, especially <i>Morphic Resident</i>, a vintage RX piece, followed up by the spooky, spectral <i>The Pick-Up</i>, which sounds like an outtake from <i><b>Cats and Dogs</b></i>, only with awesome production values. In the end its a washing machine of musical influences, and if the weed is good enough, it will keep you intrigued for hours, as you try and pick apart the various bands they are paying tribute to. Just let it be known that there is more music on three tracks of this record than most bands manage to pack into entire records. In fact, if you own <i>Sweet Sixteen</i>, you can pretty much consider the whole of the 70s covered, because this record has already done all the legwork for you. Blessed relief!<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j8q9QgE65Cw/U1e68JKQLXI/AAAAAAAAApc/bkL3vRvrvvc/s1600/Lana-Del-Rey-Born-to-Die-Paradise-Edition.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j8q9QgE65Cw/U1e68JKQLXI/AAAAAAAAApc/bkL3vRvrvvc/s1600/Lana-Del-Rey-Born-to-Die-Paradise-Edition.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a>62.<b> Lana Del Rey - Paradise</b> <br />
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A little background first. The millions of readers of
this blog will know that I first came across LDR prior to the release of her
debut rekkid <b>Born To Die</b> while surfing YouTube. I was instantly hooked and
intrigued. It was clear to me Lana was something different. Something special.<br />
<br />
Then the album broke and of course she became a pretty big star pretty much
straightaway. Suddenly she was in all the magazines. I felt that twinge of
betrayal. How could she 'sell out' so quickly? After seeing a lot of her
YouTube videos, many of which were of her performing live, I felt the album was
a little over-produced, too slick and 'poppy'. In my own mind I much preferred
her as a jazz torch singer. The thing is, Lana is a many different things to
different people. What is most interesting about her is her ability to shape
shift. I wanted her to be just the one thing, but she's not that easily
pigeon-holed.<br />
<br />
Jump forward in time and <b>Paradise</b> is released. I didn't even know it had
come out until a buddy told me about it and played me his favourite track, <b>Gods and Monsters</b>. I was tickled pink to find that, of all her personas, it was the torch singer
one that Lana had chosen to pursue on this record. I feel this is a natural fit
for her highly sensuous vocal delivery and her clear fascination with the
glamour of yesteryear. On Paradise she has created a near-perfect set of songs
that make the most of her many talents.<br />
<br />
The album is packed wall to wall with gorgeous, multi-layered torch songs that
caress the ears and turn you into jelly within a few bars, and of course, the
rich mythology of America is everywhere. It is this area that Lana has made her
own, starting with her chosen 'stage name'. It is this artful mining of
America's tremendously varied pop culture history that gives her music a
mythical quality. On Body Electric she even goes so far as to claim Elvis is
her Daddy and Marilyn is her Momma, which is really not that hard to believe,
if you think about it. But she's far more than a rock and roll hall of fame
devotee and museum guide. That she is able to extract that rich vein of
material and forge it into something new is what makes her so interesting.<br />
<br />
And then there's the sex. She's been accused of using it gratuitously to sell
records. I say so freaking what? Like this is something new? Everyone uses sex
to sell stuff. It's HOW you use that will earn you legendary status in this
extremely short-lived world. For Lana, sex is a drug, heavier than heroin and
she goes straight for the jugular with the opening line of <i>Cola</i>: 'my pussy
tastes like Pepsi Cola', which must surely qualify as the rock and roll
statement of the year. Not because its being snarled by a punk rock princess,
but because its emanating from those amazing bee stung lips in a luscious pop
song. Madonna, Lady Gaga, Beyonce... step aside, the new queen of sexy has
arrived!<br />
<br />
Apart from <i>Cola</i> (a fantastic song with or without that line), the EP scales
even greater heights on several other tracks, notably <i>Gods and Monsters</i> and <i>Yayo</i>. On <i>Gods and
Monsters</i> she gets even more graphic, and if this doesn't stir you below the
waist you better check your pulse, because you could be dead, duuude. <i>Yayo</i> is
just pure aural bliss, stripped down, with minimal instrumental back-up, with
LDR channelling Marilyn M and letting her voice do its thing. She makes it seem
effortless, she barely breaks a sweat, but it's nonetheless a knock-out. A show
stopper. LDR is the opposite of the belter. She doesn't need to strain. She
just parts those lips and the world bows down.<br />
<br />
If Lana continues to deliver tracks of this stature on future outings, the
world is her oyster. It is also worth noting that there is a fantastic treat for 50s culture freaks
in the form of a stunning rendition of <i>Blue Velvet</i>. Any David Lynch fan will
recognise this song immediately of course. And we will also realise that it was
not chosen lightly. There are any number of terrific 50s torch songs that Lana
could have chosen to cover, but THIS one has special significance. It's an
absolutely perfect vehicle for her seductive and languorous delivery. A known
connoisseur of 50s style feminine beauty, I've no doubt Lynch is a huge fan. I have high
hopes for a future collaboration.<br />
<br />
For all the naysayers who doubted the talent and staying power of LDR, <i><b>Paradise</b></i>
has simply blown them out of the water. Mainstream pop hasn't been this
interesting since the Beatles and the Rolling Stones were vying for the title
of greatest band on the planet.</div>
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61. <b>Wiskey Biscuit - Wiskey Biscuit </b><br />
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Alright, here is another one-off in my collection. One of those I bought because I liked the name and the cover and it turned out to be a real cracker. Turns out these guys made this record and then another one and then split up. What a damn shame because they really had something going. And I'm still trying to get their second outing because its out of print and costs a bundle (which reminds me, I must look it up on iTunes). The Biscuit have a real unique sound. I can't put my finger on it. Its a bit of Grifters, a bit of Replacements, a bit of Flaming Lips and a bit of a bunch of bands that I can't think of right now. It's entirely wigged out, hazy, bloozy, and altogether unique and wonderful. There's a lot of slide guitar for one thing and the record has an amazing variety of styles on it, including stoner rock, country rock, ska and reggae. In fact, it's next to impossible to pigeonhole them (iTunes has them down as Country, but the one thing I'm sure of is this ain't country!). Suffice to say these dudes can rock out and write freaking awesome songs that will stick in your head like they're made of Gorilla Glue. What a bummer they broke up but there you have it...<br />
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60. <b>Down - NOLA (1995)</b><br />
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OK time for something a little different... one of my dirtier little secrets is I've always liked metal. Yes, its true! It all started with AC/DC and Black Sabbath and went downhill from there. I even had a real hard-on for The Scorpions at one point. (Hey you gotta admit those cover designs are awesome.) In any event, I am still a closet headbanger but my metal tastes have become very selective over the years. One band I really got into was Pantera. And after the sad demise of that brutal outfit, I discovered this spin-off by the name of Down. Down is a supergroup formed form members of various metal bands you've probably never heard of, with the superstar in the form of Phil Anselmo, the former singer of Pantera. These dudes all hailed from the New Orleans area, or were currently in residence there, so they decided to call their debut rekkid NOLA, which as any fule kno, stands for New Orleans Louisiana. In any event, Down had three things going for them: a) they were all huge fans of Black Sabbath b) they were all major stoners and c) they can play the ever-loving crap out of it. Now this isn't metal like you imagine it, with endless paradiddles on the guitar and drums and incomprehensible vomit vocals. Down are slaves to the Almighty Riff and every track is packed with the most monstrous riffs you can imagine. It is also tight as hell, with no mess or fuss. This bastard just rocks like a mofo from beginning to end. What further separates them is the wonderful atmosphere they conjure up. Let's not forget that New Orleans is one soupy place boys, steeped with history and redolent with all kinds of dark secrets. Yes, there is the Mardi fucking Gras and Bourbon Street and all that touristy shit, but there is also the 'other' New Orleans. The swampy, spooky, creepy as hell place with lots of cajun voodoo thrown in for good measure. Down tap into this with tremendous skill to deliver a unique blend of metal mayhem that manages to be singularly atmospheric without ever descending into parody. If you ever thought Sabbath's <i>Planet Caravan</i> was the absolute best track to put on when that bong is really starting to work its magic, then this album is for you!!<br />
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<br />Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-20243844491634501452014-01-13T02:42:00.000-08:002015-01-25T07:04:44.707-08:00My greatest 100 albums of the last 30 years 79 - 70 [Continuing from where we left off the last time]...<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>79. Lucinda Williams - Car Wheels on a Gravel Road (1998)</b><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_-348dC41nc/UaCJuwU6R7I/AAAAAAAAAec/KQ3135B25ew/s1600/Lucinda+Car+Wheels.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_-348dC41nc/UaCJuwU6R7I/AAAAAAAAAec/KQ3135B25ew/s1600/Lucinda+Car+Wheels.JPG" /></a><br />
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Man, it's about time we had some oestrogen in here, damn! I admit this list is almost overwhelmingly male. Can't explain why, I guess I'm just a sucker for the type of music that dudes make (generally a noisy racket). There ARE a few females though and Lucinda is definitely one of the privileged few who crack the nod. This was Lucinda's breakthrough album. She was already well known in certain circles and her reputation as a songwriter was very well established prior to Car Wheels. But when she released this, she got major attention and even won a Grammy, if I'm not mistaken (not that that means anything, generally speaking). Lucinda is just one of the best song-writers living, simple as that. She's a story-teller, and makes it seem so easy, but its far from simple stuff she's putting down. On Car Wheels she just nailed down a bunch of incredible songs that contain timeless ruminations on that main vein for songwriters - why things go sour in relationships. This is Lucinda's forte and she does it better than pretty much anyone else on the planet. Musically it's pretty standard alt-country rock fare, with very competent backing from her band and some cracking slide guitar on <i>Joy</i>. Nothing wrong with it, but its fairly mainstream. The main pleasures are to be had from Lucinda's words and distinctive voice, particularly when she slows it down a bit and the yearning fills her voice like a palpable force on songs like <i>Lake Charles</i>, <i>Greenville </i>and<i> Jackson</i>. You can bet when Lucinda puts a place name in a song, its going to be cracker.<br />
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<b>78. New Kingdom - Heavy Load (1993)</b><br />
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This one comes from my brief dalliance with hip hop and its one of the few hip hop albums that has survived within my collection over the years. This is just one of the coolest, funkiest records I have ever heard, plain and simple. I really don't have a lot of music that could be described as 'feel good' but this is definitely one of them. The band comprised two dudes, Nosaj and Sebastian and they managed to release a grand total of two albums during their career (the second one - <b><i>Paradise Don't Come Cheap</i></b> - also made it onto my list). Bottom line, these dudes were just so out there they would never have made it in this sheep-like world. They did entirely their own thing and simply fell between the cracks. Their musical heritage ranged from Black Sabbath, Hendrix and Grand Funk Railroad to Bootsy Collins and Curtis Mayfield to Public Enemy and Wu-Tang Clan. The balance of the influence was the urban environs of Brooklyn where the lads grew up plus a deep and wide smorgasbord of 70s cultural influences that include filmic landmarks like <b><i>The Warriors</i></b>, <i><b>Blade Runner</b></i> (both sampled to superb effect on the record), <b><i>Two Lane Blacktop</i></b> and the collective works of Bruce Lee to a deep appreciation for the good things in life (being good weed, good hooch and bad wimmins but not necessarily in that order). Basically though any attempt to categorise these guys will pretty much end in tears. This album is clearly affiliated to hip hop but these guys were just too original to ever be confined by anything that rigid. By the time you get to their sophomore effort, fuhgeddaboutit, it simply stands alone in the annals of music. In all my years of listening I've never heard anything else like it. Needless to say <i><b>Heavy Load</b></i> is a party album and you need to be imbibing your poison of choice to fully appreciate its subtle charms. If you are suitably oiled, by the time you get halfway through the rekkid (the seriously groovy <i>Mama and Papa</i>) if your head ain't bobbing and your feet ain't tapping then you, my friend, better check yr <i>pulse</i>.<br />
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<b>77. The Angels of Light - How I Loved You (2001)</b><br />
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This is Michael Gira's first post Swans record. On the cover is a picture of Michael Gira's Mom. It's a great picture, the sun is on her face and she's really smiling away, happy as anything. His Dad is on the back. Its hard to imagine Michael Gira even having parents. You kind of imagine the guy was abandoned as a child, left in a garbage can or dumped on the steps of an orphanage. A real hardcore orphanage, like you see in the movies, where they whale on the kids all the time. Angels of Light is described in some places as 'apocalyptic folk'. I'm not sure who came up with this description but it really fits. At first listen, as opening track <i><b>Evangeline</b></i> kicks in, its really quite normal. Just an acoustic guitar and that distinctive baritone, with some filler noodling going on in the background. Quite a few instruments coming up now (if you love instrumentation, Gira never disappoints), including lap steel guitar, ukulele and sleigh bells (no sign of Santa yet though). It has a sort of country western feel to it but I still prefer apocalyptic folk. The album continues on in this vein until it really hits its stride on track 7 with <i><b>My Suicide</b></i>, followed by the gossamer delicate <i><b>New York Girls</b></i> and then rises to a new level with <i><b>Public Embarrassment</b></i>, which despite its prosaic title, is the perfect realisation of what he is trying to achieve here - a perfectly syncopated sea shanty that swings along with deceptive power, carried forth by Gira's doom-laden vocals and the impeccable timing of his backing band. Delve a little deeper and listen to the lyrics and there's no doubt its the man who spent the better part of two decades at the helm of one of the most extreme bands ever running the show. As such it is a very nice accompaniment to Swans. The fact is, Gira is a musical phenomenon, perhaps even a genius. Certainly the depth and variety of his output is unmatched by anyone else working in the modern oeuvre. Angels of Light adds another arrow to his quiver, but it turns out AOL was just a little sidebar and he still has much to offer through his primary vehicle, Swans, of which more later...<br />
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76. <b>Spiritualized - Ladies and Gentleman we are Floating in Space (1997)</b><br />
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Seguing nicely into another gent who likes making epic records. I refer to lead man of Spiritualized, Jason Pierce, another musical genius who is in many ways a British version of M. Gira, in that he is always trying to reach a transcendent state, whether it be through the use of mind-altering pharmaceuticals or taking his ever-changing band into new and unexplored areas of unfettered musical expression. On <i><b>Ladies and Gentleman</b></i>, the band really hit their stride and acclaim for the album was pretty much universal, including NME naming it their album of the year. They made no bones about what the record was inspired by, with the packaging designed to resemble typical over the counter drug packaging. Lucky for them all that white powder R 'n R didn't prevent them from recording an album that, despite featuring a double decker bus-load of musicians, still hangs together beautifully and in several tracks, achieves a white light white heat type of ecstasy that recalls both the best baptist church revivals and the experimental freak outs of bebop jazz. Its actually one of the most intriguing things about Spiritualized that, despite being a cutting edge band, most of their influences can traced directly back to 'roots' music like jazz, blues and spirituals. But its what they do with it that counts, and on Ladies and Gentleman, they really raise the roof. Can you give me hallelujah?<br />
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<b>75. Surgery - Nationwide (1990)</b><br />
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OK, this album was something of a grail for me back in the day. First off, it was damn hard to find. The band were with Amphetamine Reptile Records, but the CD was released through an obscure German label called Glitterhouse. Bear in mind this was 1990 and pre-Internet days so getting this stuff into the country was damned hard. A buddy of mine with good connects had a copy and when he played it I was instantly drooling. They had this awesome sound which immediately set me off, kind of a hard rock bluesy feel, lots of influences (practically the whole spectrum of hard rock it feels like sometimes) but with a definite new edge to it. Bear in mind the whole album was only 9 songs and about 33 minutes long but it packed a LOT of cool shit in that short space. The kicker was track no. 2 - <b><i>Maliblues</i></b>. It starts lazily with an extended intro, some wicked guitar licks and a frenetic drum track (genius drummer alert) and then they ratchet up the speed a bit. The guitar work throughout is just off the hook, bluesy and tight as hell, backed by a demonic rhythm section that never loses its way. It never really lets up after that, its just full blown kick-ass rock and roll, with singer Scott McDonnell's growly drawl pulling everything together. The great thing about Surgery was they could do up-tempo but then on a track like <b><i>Highway 109</i></b> they could really slow it down and stretch it out, lay on some wicked-ass slide guitar and get into some hoodoo voodoo slow-cooked southern fried blooze rock. The record reaches a peak with the intensely awesome <i><b>Drive-In Fever</b></i>, which evokes long, hot summer days, flying down the blacktop in a 70s muscle car, the 8 track turned up all the way to eleven. Surgery would later be picked up by legendary major label Atlantic and release the incredible <b><i>Shimmer</i></b> record but it was all for nought. Fate would deal them a cruel blow and they would go out in flames when lead singer Scott McDonnell died unexpectedly in 1995 of a severe asthma attack. It was a true bummer as the band were clearly destined for great things.<br />
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<b>74. Red Red Meat - Jimmywine Majestic (1994)</b><br />
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This one is a natural progression. It just slots right in there. It too takes the blues and twists into something new and strange. This is a pretty remarkable thing in itself, that this pretty basic form of music can be manipulated in so many new and unusual ways but that's because it taps into primal human emotion. There are only so many stories you can tell but the one where the flame or raven-haired bitch leaves you high and dry after ripping your heart out is pretty much universal. The art of Red Red Meat was to create guitar rock that sounded like no-one else, at a time when guitar rock was everywhere. A lot of this is due to the atypical rythymns and stop start time changes they employed. Some was due to the highly distinctive voice and ripping slide action of singer/guitarist Tim Ritulli. They sounded like no one else because they were unlike anyone else. They also weren't afraid to take things a little slower when the mood took them. First track <i><b>Flank</b></i> is a ripper but then they follow it up immediately with <b><i>Stained and Lit</i></b> which is a beautifully crafted love song, bruised and slow and gorgeous, with Ritulli's world-weary lines dripping like slow poison. You'd think that would be enough for one day but they follow it right up with <b>Braindead</b>, another dirgey ditty that established the meloncholy mood with a vengeance. The chorus is lovely: <i>tremors through your habit/ blue and clean and not enough/ coming empty handed/ doctor up the meter/ milk your bait another day dry/ braindead when I'm with you/fine lusted all around you grey I know.</i> If you ever figure out what it means, let me know. <b><i>Moon Calf Tripe</i></b> is another groove trip. Laconic and bluesy and rife with unexpected start stop time changes, it makes it clear they weren't following any script other than their own, and the only copy was long lost. Whatever they were on about it was clear what the mood called for - plenty of hard alcohol and barbituates and devil take the hindmost. Red Red Meat, a party band for the pre-dawn suicidal crew. Come one, come all.<br />
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<b>73. Screaming Trees - Sweet Oblivion (1992)</b><br />
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Geez, I can't believe it, <i>another</i> blues-soaked manifesto! Must be a pattern here. OK this one wasn't quite as gloomy largely due to the sheer exhiliaration the band were able to generate when they were at full tilt.<br />
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With two XL sized dudes in flannel shirts and logger boots doing twin axe duty and the croaking smoked hickory vocal stylings of Mark Lanning at the helm, Screaming Trees came out of the Seattle scene that delivered up a bunch of other bands, some of whom became pretty dern famous. Altough they started out on the major street cred indie label SST, when the G-word explosion happened they were quickly snapped up for a handsome sum by major label Epic. As such they were unfairly labelled as sell-outs and money whores. (Music politics can be just as ugly as the normal kind it would seem.) Not that any of that matters because their first offering on that label was a monster. Yes, it sounded pretty dern slick compared to a lot of their comprades of the time (having major label money didnt hurt in the studio) but the songs were thing, forget everything else.<br />
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They just swung and swung hard. This is the beauty of looking back. You can just listen to the music and judge it for the way it is, without all the bullshit that usually comes with it. It starts off pretty great with <i><b>Shadow of the Season</b></i>, all squealing guitars under the throaty roar of Lanning's pipes. Its a big sound. Hell yeah it makes you think of the giant trees and cascading rivers of the rain-soaked Pacific Northwest. It even has tabla drums, tho not quite sure if that's geographically relevant. However, the band only really hits its stride with the second track, a true monster called <i><b>Nearly Lost You</b></i>. <br />
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Their 'commercial' appeal is instantly obvious here. This is classic rock, timeless and it damn near shifts them out of the alternative label and into the big leagues through sheer momentum. Almost but not quite. Yes, it has the instant FM radio appeal that Nirvana tapped into with THAT song. Nowt wrong with that. And the kicker is, the next song is even better. <b><i>Dollar Bill</i></b> is a swinging anthem, it makes me think of vintage Johnny Cash, its that good. It makes you want to stand up and punch the air. Its a stone classic by god. With this three song intro it was clear that <b><i>Sweet Oblivion</i></b> tapped into a rich vein of song-writing, a classic rock sensibility that signalled the Trees KNEW shit about writing songs. They should be celebrated for that, not punished.<br />
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<b>72. Glassjaw - Everything you Ever Wanted to Know About Silence (1999)</b><br />
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I must say I know very little about this band. Normally, I get into a band, I buy more than one of their CDs. I pursue them, read up about them... I'm obsessive that way. But these guys came along, I think I saw this in a local store one day, listened to it, liked what I heard and bought it. So it was a spontaneous thing. I liked the band name, liked the cover design, liked the sound and that was enough. This was also their debut album, so no real history to consider. Turns out, though, it was to become a bit of a cult classic. The singer/songwriter Darryl Palumbo had been through a heavy duty break-up before the album was made and all that came pouring out of him. Not that this is an unusual state of affairs by any means. We are know that artists use these milestone events in their lives as raw material. But THIS guy really did a number with it. The album is like an epic, and there is something truly operatic about it, except its performed by a punk rock band. The first three songs alone contain enough peaks and troughs and raw emotion to fill any normal rock record. And its one of those records where it just gets better and better as it goes along, until you cannot help admiring the shit out of their creativity. They just play the hell out of it, with levels of intensity rarely experienced in any artform. With Palumbo's vocals sometimes straying into heavy metal territory, its an interesting crossover album, with one foot in punk and the other in metal. I like it because I admire and appreciate intensity and 100% commitment and these guys are all that. Given this level of intensity it can be an exhausting record to listen to unless you're in a certain frame of mind, but most importantly it is never dull. In terms of the overall sound the closest point of reference is probably System of a Down's <b><i>Toxicity</i></b>, but its a much better album than that. <br />
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71. <b>Tom Waits - Rain Dogs (1985)</b><br />
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Changing pace just a tad, this is the second of three Tom Waits records featuring on this list. <i>Rain Dogs</i> followed <i>Swordfishtrombones</i> and it didn't take a dummy to figure out that Waits was really kickin it like Bruce Lee at that time of his life, artistically speaking. <i>Rain Dogs</i> is truly a remarkable record because it is perfect. Yes, I said it. Its a perfect record. 10/10. Whereas Swordfish has songs that are equally vivid and glorious in terms of imagery and originality, <i>Rain Dogs</i> is just a tiny bit better as an ALBUM (although that judgement can change on any given day in my mind.) It just rolls from song to song with absolute ease, and each song is a perfect little prose poem set to music, fully realised and polished to perfection. There isn't a false or jarring note on the whole exercise.<br />
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To my mind, Waits doesn't really make music, he is a poet that sets his poems to music. And on <i>Rain Dogs</i> he is at the height of his powers. Particularly the writing... it is just remarkable and, critically, seems effortless throughout. His output at the time must have been lightning in a jar phenomenal. The album features 19 tracks but he could just as easily have let it go at 12 and it would have been just as good. The first ten songs are probably the strongest set of tracks in the entire Waits back catalogue. It is crowned by the first of two magnificent triptychs on the record: <i><b>Jockey Full of Bourbon</b></i>, <b><i>Tango Til They're Sore</i></b> and <b><i>Big Black Mariah</i></b>.<br />
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In these three songs, Waits' unique talent for mining the treasure chest of America's past is so fully realised and note perfect your jaw hits the floor. <b><i>Tango Til They're Sore</i></b> is the high point. With its jaunty gin joint piano and slurry trombone backing to Waits' incredible wordplay, its the soundtrack to an imaginative life so rich and detailed it feels like you're dreaming awake every time you listen to it. Just when you think he's peaked, he comes out with <i><b>9th and Hennepin, Gun Street Girl</b></i> and <i><b>Union Square</b></i> - <i>another</i> set of three perfect songs. At his peak, Waits is untouchable, and he would only ever once supercede the triumph of this record with his masterpiece, <i><b>Frank's Wild Years</b></i>.<br />
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<i>Well things are pretty lousy, for a calendar girl...</i><br />
<i>The boys just dive right off the cars and splash into the street</i><br />
<i>Then when they're on a roll, she pulls a razor from her boot</i><br />
<i>And a thousand pigeons fall around her feet...</i><br />
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70. <b>Tindersticks - Tindersticks (1993) </b><br />
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This record is a natural progression from the above. Much like Waits, Tindersticks are frustrated poets. Except the Tindersticks approach is looser, more sprawling, a kind of spoken word thing. Like Waits, they like living in the past... they play real instruments, wear suits and hats. They are incurable romantics... unlike Waits, they are British, which is kind of interesting. When this double album came out in 1993 it was very different to the guitar rock which was dominant at the time. So in that respect it was a refreshing change. All these violins and things was in total contrast to the almost 100% diet of guitars and drums we were on. Melody Maker got so excited at the prospect of a good new Brit band they named it album of the year. Despite this, my more blinkered mates sneered at it. It was a bit too girly for them. Not that its easy listening by any means. A lot of people describe the music I listen to as 'depressing'. I've never understood that description, but it kinda fits when it comes to Tindersticks. They are definitely dark and moody. Singer Stuart Staples has a unique approach to 'singing'. He doesn't really do it, preferring to alternately mumble and croon in his deep baritone. On this record it works very well. On the follow-up to this, it became a bit tricky and somewhat annoying, largely due to the often murky production. The production on this record (by the band and Ian Caple) works because its clear, you can hear and attempt to identify every instrument (a wonky thrill in itself) if you want to, so it doesn't fall into the trap of the second album, which was murky and therefore unbearably dirgey in places. This is important because the kind of music Tindersticks makes is risky in that it is best experienced live, in an auditorium with perfect acoustics. We did actually have occasion to see them live in a beautiful old theatre and I almost had fisticuffs with an idiot standing behind us, who insisted on talking loudly to his mate while the band played. Its not background music, its music to give your full attention to, to listen to carefully, glass of wine or bourbon in hand. But like I said, live is actually best. Despite the unique stylings of the singer, Tindersticks succeeds because it is full of great songs and beautiful melodies. Listening to it now as I write this, 20 years later, its as strong as ever. <br />
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<br />Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-25428639188975166872013-03-27T10:19:00.000-07:002015-01-29T23:20:21.051-08:00My 100 Greatest Albums of the Last 30 yrs 89 - 80<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">[Continuing on from where we left off last time...]</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">89. <b> </b></span><b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Thin White Rope - Moonhead (1987)</span></b> <br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">One of the most unusual bands to ever come down the pike, Thin White Rope defy categorisation</span>. <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">From the bizarre</span> <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">cover art and band name (taken from a description of ejaculate by the inimitable William Burroughs) to the name of the album, its a head scratcher right from the get go. And the picture doesn't get any clearer once you lower the needle on the first track of side one either. The first thing that jumps out at you from opening track <i>Not Your Fault</i> is the weird tremulous voice of singer Guy Kyser. It's a unique voice, and when combined with the warped slide guitar of lead axe murderer Roger Kunkel, it quickly dawns that you're in the presence of a true original. The band hailed from somewhere out in the desert in southern California and undoubtedly this spooky environment informed their music considerably. It has a rural otherworldly quality to it, although it can't be described as country music (or even alt-country, although that movement was undoubtedly influenced by TWR). While pinning the band down and placing them in a neat pigeon hole is next to impossible, one thing is clear, they could play the hell out of it. On tracks like <i>Wire Animals</i> and <i>Come Around</i>, the band raises a hellish racket. And just when you think you have the band's abilities nailed down, they weigh in with <i>Thing</i>. This little ditty about love turned sour is so insidious, so beautifully rendered, once heard it will never be forgotten. Roger Kunkel's amazing signature slide guitar is a feature of the album throughout, especially on <i>Wet Heart</i> where the pairing reach new heights of dementia. He is surely one of the slyest, most talented and under-appreciated axe smiths of his time. In their short career TWR would struggle to reach the heights of <b>Moonhead</b> again, although a subsequent slab, <b>The Ruby Sea</b>, is definitely up there in terms of pure weirdness and originality.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">88. Pussy Galore - Corpse Love, The Early Years (1988)</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">One of my most sincere regrets is selling the LP version of this album which has since ceased to exist. This 1988 release compiled the tracks from the first PG releases including the <b>Feel Good About Your Body</b> 7", <b>Pussy Gold 5000</b> ep and <b>Groovy Hate Fuck</b> ep. All of this, along with some other tracks off the Pussy's notorious full length cover album of the Stone's <b>Exile on Main Street</b><i>, </i>and other material from that time, was released years later on the CD <b>Corpse Love</b>. But damn the original LP (original cover art shown here) was a thing of power and beauty, and I just preferred the single minded purity of the thing. Pussy Galore were easily one of the most influential bands to come out of NYC in the late 80s early 90s. Jon Spencer would go on to bigger things with the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion but his early band in a lot of ways was a lot more impressive. Featuring the ultra-cool Julia Cafritz on guitar, supplemental vocals and general attitude, plus the guitar genius of Neil Hagerty, who would later form the mighty Royal Trux (more of them later), the Pussies were pure hell on wheels. This first offering was so raw, so brutal, that when mates and I first listened to it, we thought it was a joke. There was no bass to speak of, drums often consisted of bit of scrap metal and the subject matter was offensive in the extreme. A few song titles to wit: <i>Cunt Tease</i>, <i>You Look Like a Jew</i>, <i>Kill Yourself</i>, <i>Die Bitch</i>, <i>Dead Meat</i>, <i>Pretty Fuck Look, Teen Pussy Power</i>. It was nasty-ass! But the lyrics were also frequently hilarious and the songs even tuneful, although it did take a few beers to unlock the secrets within. There was a method to their madness. At first glance it sounded like something out of a nightmare, a demolition derby, the end of civilisation as we knew it. Take one part Cramps, one part Unsane and one part Stooges circa <b>Raw Power</b> and you'd have an inkling of the kind of mayhem these guys produced. In the fullness of time, I grew to love them dearly.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">87. Pixies - Surfer Rosa (1988)</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The listing of this album so low down on the list might provoke howls of protest from my massive readership *ahem*, given that it has since become one of the most iconic records of the era, but as I said originally this list is as much chronological as anything else so don't take it so much to heart kiddies. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I received this on its release in 1988 while living and working in East London as a student reporter for the <i>Daily Dispatch</i>. I was ensconced in a commune with several other blokes, three of whom also worked at the paper. I used to order two records a month from Street Records in Johannesburg. They only cost 50<span style="font-size: x-small;"> <span style="font-size: small;">bucks</span></span> apiece but seeing as how I was earning just under a grand a month, that was all I could afford. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This record was released simultaneously with fellow Bostonian's The Throwing Muses' sophomore effort <b>House Tornado</b>. I ordered them both and was immediately taken with the Pixies' more rough-edged, guitar-driven sound, although the Muses album is a classic in its own right. The cover art (LP version shown) was by design genius Vaughan Oliver and of course it remains a classic in the annals of 4AD. For some reason I don't remember my initial listening experience as vividly as some of the other albums listed here, but I do recall being really taken with the spanish bits, both on the cover and elsewhere. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's pretty hard to judge this record objectively now, given how much water has passed under the bridge. Suffice to say they were true originals and I still consider <b>Surfer Rosa</b> to be the best thing Pixies ever did (although on any given day, I will just as easily accord Doolittle that same honour). On most days though I prefer Steve Albini's rough 'drums-first' production over Gil Bellows' slicker finish, and songs like <i>Where is My Mind</i>, <i>Something Against You</i>, <i>Broken Face</i> and <i>River Euphrates</i> have that quintessential Pixies sound to my ears. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Unfortunately this band was seized on as the holy grail by a lot of people later in the day and as a result their music became somewhat over-exposed. Although this does not affect the quality of the music at all its a bit like having a hot new girlfriend who you really dig and then finding out that most of your mates have already slept with her. Perhaps this is one of the reasons I don't listen to this band nearly as much as other records from that time but it never fails to amuse when I do give it a spin. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>86. Big Black - Atomizer (1986) </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Hooboy! Where to start with this one? This album came into my possession after my buddy Chris decided he didn't like it and asked if I wanted to swap. I had just got Meat Puppets' <b>Up In The Air</b> in and it hadn't quite grabbed me so I offered him that. The rest, as they say, is history. I remember putting it on, listening to <i>Jordan, Minnesota</i> and it felt like I'd fallen through the rabbit hole. For me this was a pivotal moment in musical appreciation, which sounds a tiny bit gay I admit. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There's never really been a band quite like Big Black, before or since. They were like Kurt Russell's car<i> </i>from<i> Death Proof</i>, whipping down a deserted highway in some distant apocalyptic future, after the zombies or machines have won, depending on whose dystopian vision you subscribe to. When they get going its like a blitzkreig, only with guitars instead of tanks. Anything that gets in their way is just obliterated - instant roadkill. Their momentum was deadly, and their sheer efficiency was mind-blowing. Not a note was wasted. Critical to their sound were two things: the use of a drum machine (Roland) instead of a real drummer, the prominence of the drums and bass in the mix and custom made aluminium guitars that made this freaking weird hollow scraping sound. The most effective songs were little vignettes, short stories, some drawn from real life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Although it was the epic track <i>Kerosene</i> that gave the Brit weeklies <i>Melody Maker</i> and <i>NME</i> the most wood, for me it was the three songs in the middle that send the album into the stratosphere. <i>Bad Houses</i>, <i>Stinking Drunk</i> and <i>Fists of Love</i> are probably the height of the Big Black sound, particularly the first track, where they slow things down and employ a first person perspective. It allowed songwriter Steve Albini to really get his twisted story-telling abilities out there, and boy was it creepy as fuck.<i> I tell myself I will not go/ Even as I drive there... </i>Follow that up triptych with tornado <i>Bazooka Joe</i> and the head-crunching live finisher, <i>Cables</i><b> </b>and you had a record that pretty much scooped out your brains and filled the cavity with nitroglycerine. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I have to add that this is now available as a CD called <i>The Rich Man's Eight Track Tape</i>. As any fule kno Albini despises digital so he only begrudgingly agreed to release this material on CD. Lucky for us, they included some earlier material </span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> on it</span>, including an EP called <b>Headache</b>. This is some of the best shit BB ever did, and includes head-crushing industrial stompers like <i>Ready Men</i>, <span style="font-size: small;"><i>Grinder</i></span> and a beautiful little <i>noir</i> tale called <i>Things To Do Today</i>. <i>Buy a pack of Squares...</i> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>85. Royal Trux - Accelerator (1998)</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">OK, I better confess right up front that this is the first of several Royal Trux albums on this list. In my opinion, Royal Trux are the greatest unsung band of the last 30 years. It's stupefying to me why they aren't accorded the same wild accolades as other bands from that era, many of whom are infinitely less interesting. Although their upfront image was that of hopelessly wasted rockers straight out of Spinal Tap, it belies the quality of their output. Hidden beneath the 'too stoned to give a crap' personalities of Jennifer Herrema and Neil Hagerty, ex-Pussy Galore, are incredibly talented musicians who can't help but create stone classics each time they venture into a studio. There is no other way to explain the rich complexity and enduring quality of their recorded output. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Of all the RT albums I own, <b>Accelerator</b> is the least immediately accessible and most likely to sound just plain nuts to the sober or uninitiated. On this record, they put their cosmic blues rock persona to bed and reduced their songs down to the bare bones, injecting a strong element of the 80's style, glitzy trash sound that characterises Herrema's later bands, RTX and Black Bananas. The remarkable thing about Royal Trux is that each album they produce has its own distinct sound and flavour. On <b>Accelerator</b>, the chanty vocals and chaotic mash-up blender of found sounds are pushed to the front and the guitars are processed and mixed way down and sometimes eliminated altogether. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Nothing on the album can be fully appreciated by one casual listen. Sometimes, like on <i>Yellow Kid</i> and <i>Juicy, Juicy, Juice</i>, the effect is so chaotic and raw it's as if they've regressed to the level of a scratch jug band on heavy acid. It's like Michaelangelo came back to life and started working in neon graffiti on the New Yawk subway. On <i>The Banana Question</i>, they repeat the line 'is that a question?' over and over again </span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">(with the odd expletive thrown in for good measure) u</span>ntil the chorus kicks in, as the band rips it up in the background with multiple instruments, most of which are impossible to identify. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">On <i>New Bones</i> they slow it down a tad and let some of that magical guitar come through a bit more, for a spacey funky sub-reggae vibe that will have you drooling down your chin if the spliff is big enough to last the ride. Just when you think they're done messing with you, they produce the daytime radio friendly <i>Stevie</i>, which might have been covered by the Jackson Five, that is, if the Jacksons were originally bluegrass musicians from the Ozarks. It sounds like utter chaos but the difference is that Herrema's and Hagerty's rampant talent and kaleidoscopic mixing abilities puts an </span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">unmistakeable </span>stamp of genius on everything they do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">84. </span><b>Shudder to Think - Pony Express Record (1994)</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is another one that falls into the 'greatest bands you never heard of' category. Shudder to Think were an outfit from Washington DC who released several albums back in the mid to late 90s. I got into them around 1995 and the release for that excellent year in music was <b>Pony Express Record</b>, a shimmering, darting, swooning slice of rock heaven with a crooner at the helm and a kick-butt riddim section behind him. There's was a very visual sound and singer Craig Wedren could really turn a memorable phrase and PER was chock full of them. He also proved particularly good at writing music for film (check out quality lesbian drama <i>High Art</i> featuring Ally Sheedy for some idea of their soundtrack work). <b>Pony Express Record</b> was their fourth full length, if memory serves<b><span style="font-size: small;">,<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></b>and it really delivers on several fronts as an expression of 90s 'art rock'. Never been quite sure what that means myself but I guess it can be put down to rock that doesn't fit neatly into any one category. The first thing that hits you is Wedren's vocals. His soprano voice is not the sort of delivery you expect from a pretty hard hitting rock band (bear in mind, this was years before 'emo' came along). The next thing that separates STT from the rank and file are there superb arrangements. Nothing can really be taken for granted. Slow, fast, mid-tempo... they do it all, often in one song. It's a disorientating experience but no less delicious for it. On <b>Pony Express Record</b>, they really hit their stride with <i>X-French T Shirt</i> and <i>No Rm 9, Kentucky</i>. This is where the unique combo of Wedren's angelic vocals and the bands tricky-dicky, stop<span style="font-size: small;">-</span>start, keep-you-guessing rhythms gell perfectly. STT would release their masterpiece, <b>50,000BC</b> a couple of years later but we'll get to that soon enough. </span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">83. Swans - Children of God (1986)</span></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Swans. Has a band ever had a less appropriate moniker? I don't think so. Nevertheless it seems to fit perfectly and to this day it is one of my favourite band names. Swans arrived on the scene in the early 80s as a project dreamed up by front man and all-round driving force, Michael Gira (pronounced Jee-rah). Interestingly enough, Gira has stated he had absolutely no musical ability when he started the band. Some might chortle and say that was pretty obvious when you listened to the music, but considering the remarkable career he has fashioned </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(which shows no sign of abating) </span>despite zero musical training, I consider it a hugely impressive feat that Swans have evolved from, dare I say it, ugly duckling to full-blown cult phenomenon. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As any fule kno, Swans started life as a sort of musical camp-out for masochists. Their live shows were exercises in brutality, with songs </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">with titles like <i>Raping a Slave </i>being hurled at the audiences like</span> massive, extended aural hammer blows, with Gira exorcising his demons at the mike... and what demons! Gira is one dark boykie, make no mistake. However, by the time <b>Children of God<i> </i></b>came about in 1987 Gira had hooked up with a lady named Jarboe blessed with the voice of an angel and Swans had really spread their wings, musically speaking (OK, I'll stop now). Her influence on the band during this period was considerable. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Still, Gira's preoccupation with degradation and power remained firmly in play from a thematic point of view and the album is named for a notorious Californian cult that encouraged their followers to have sex with each other's children. Despite its nauseating provenance, CoG is a powerhouse of a record. Massive brain-crunching dirges like <i>New Mind</i> and <i>Sex, God, Sex</i> drive you mercilessly to the ground and then you are lifted up by apocalyptic folk songs like <i>In Your Garden </i>and <i>Blackmail</i>. Then on <i>Our Love Lies</i>, the two perform a duet that is akin to Johnny and June Cash on quaaludes. It's an amazing range of musical expression that creates a profoundly disorientating effect on the listener. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Despite the urge to chuckle from time to time at the utter blackness of it all (Gira himself is well aware of this, the Swans' 'greatest hits' was entitled <b>Various Failures</b>), like all Swans' output, its a singular and hypnotic listening experience - if you have the stomach for it. Although knee-jerk labels like 'depressing' and 'gothic' have followed the band around for years, the unwavering commitment of the band to its artistic vision and the sheer beauty and power of the music cannot be denied. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>82. The Jayhawks - Sound of Lies (1997)</b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I must admit right from the get-go that I bought this record without knowing much about the band at all. I seem to recall it was on special and I remember reading a glowing review of it (I remember the dude said SOL was 'about as exciting as rock and roll gets' which definitely impressed me). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I had no idea what the band sounded like. As it turned out, it was a near perfect slab of rock and roll and the sound of a band that was in the process of being torn apart (one of the founding members, Mark Olson, had just left, which just proves </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">once again </span>the old saw that creativity thrives on adversity).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Jayhawks play a brand of cosmic country rock that it's not embarrassing to admit you like, although on this album they moved further away from their country roots and into increasingly... shall I say, 'groovy' territory. This record is so full of hooks and awesome melodies its ridiculous. I can hear everything from the Beach Boys to Crosby Stills and Nash to The Eagles on it. So maybe it's their Californian album? Hailing from the frozen burg of Minneapolis they no doubt yearned for sunnier places and the sound is definitely sun-drenched and blissed out, evoking long summer days surfing off Baja, those awesome station wagons with wooden sides and other fantastic imagery from the classic era of longboard surfing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They are also incredibly skilled musicians and multi-instrumentalists so if you're the kind of person who gets off on that, this is the record for you. The beautiful production, courtesy of </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">legendary knob twiddler George Drakoulias, </span>will also have you in ecstasy. It is pure ear candy from start to finish. SOL is filled with heartbreaking harmonies, lead by singer Gary Louris, who has the ideal voice for a country rock band, filled with yearning and sorrow. The back-up vocals, however, are the secret ingredient that's pushes it into fresh heights of aural pleasure along with the superb piano backing (I am a sucker for piano in rock music) and other exotic instrumentation that crops up throughout. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I got into this record so much I went out and bought a few more Jayhawks records, including the follow up, <b>Smile</b> and earlier outings when Mark Olson was still with the band like <b>Blue Earth</b>, <b>Hollywood Town Hall</b> and <b>Tomorrow the Green Grass</b>. The latter in particular is a near-classic although it does not have the consistency of SOL, which I consider to be the finest offering from a band who I reckon belongs in the rock and roll hall of fame.</span><br />
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<b>81. Mercury Rev - Deserter's Songs (1998)</b><br />
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It was difficult to figure out where this record should go on the list. It is undeniably a piece of absolute musical genius but its not typically what I go for. It's one that I have to be in the right mood to enjoy. Its not exactly <i>difficult</i> but it is demanding. Suffice to say its great to listen to as you're drifting off to sleep because it definitely evokes a dream world of infinite possibility straight out of Whitman's Leaves of Grass. It has a real timeless quality and fits right alongside the Jayhawks' SOL in that, it too, is a perfect expression of what Gram Parsons called 'cosmic American music'. The Rev are indeed cosmic. When they hit the scene with a major bang in the early 90s with <b>Yerself Is Steam</b>, the praise they garnered was pretty much ecstatic. Here was a unique sound that seemed to herald something totally new in rock music. As it turned out Mercury Rev were no one trick ponies and they proved they were deep... real deep, venturing out even further into the distant reaches of the universe a few years later with <b>Deserter's Songs</b>. It's a unique record in that even lovers of classical or opera or jazz (hell, Broadway musicals even) would likely respond to it. It has everything: great songs, beautiful melodies, fantastic production, exotic instrumentation aplenty. At first listen some may find it a bit twee and refuse to delve further but that would be a mistake. As big a fan as I am of dirty rock and roll with guitars front and centre, the likes of <b>Deserter's Songs</b> - which eschews guitars almost entirely - is no less powerful. It takes you on a journey, much akin to something out of the Wizard of Oz. And every step of the way is filled with wonder and dreaming. Its power to transport you simply cannot be denied if you keep an open mind and simply yield to it. Cynicism has no place in the world Mercury Rev creates, they are open-hearted wanderers of the universe and they will take you along with them if you simply close your eyes and let your imagination run free.<br />
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<b>80. Sonic Youth - EVOL<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vFIwJCwSq8g/UVMKBgHonLI/AAAAAAAAAcc/NBt_SGmUGiA/s1600/EVOL.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vFIwJCwSq8g/UVMKBgHonLI/AAAAAAAAAcc/NBt_SGmUGiA/s320/EVOL.jpg" height="320" width="317" /></a></b><br />
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For the final album in this instalment we go back to New York noise terrorists Sonic Youth.<i> </i><b>EVOL</b> was the follow-up to their ground-breaking Bad Moon Rising outing
and it saw the band considerably more 'filled out' and writing actual
songs. For me this was the most fully realised Sonic Youth album of the
early 'pre-Daydream Nation' phase and the one I returned to again and
again over the years. It still has that sinister edge of BMR on songs like <i>Tom Violence</i> and <i>Shadow of a Doubt</i> but at the same time it introduces a real sense of sensuality and femininity on songs like <i>Star Power </i>and<i> Secret Girls</i>,
which no doubt shows the growing contribution of bassist Kim Gordon.
Talking about femininity may seem a little weird until you consider that
the noise scene was almost overwhelmingly male and testosterone laden.
Kim Gordon and Julia Cafritz of Pussy Galore (who later formed a band
together called Free Kitten), along with Lydia Lunch, were real pioneers of
this budding movement. On <b>EVOL</b> Thurston Moore retreats almost entirely into the
background on vocals (with the notable exception of <i>Marilyn Moore</i>) and the band is a lot better for it. Lucky for us
he doesn't give up his duties entirely and there is plenty of the
patented chiming guitars and feedback that makes this band instantly
recognisable. Although the follow-up to this, Sister, was in many ways even more
accessible, and Daydream Nation is considered their masterpiece, <b>EVOL</b>
has always seemed like the quintessential Sonic Youth record to me. The
album has a remarkable cohesion and its literally busting out with vivid
images at every turn. Not only that but the band rein in the noise for
noise sake (only really indulging in it on closer <i>Expressway to Yr Skull</i>), focusing on the melodies
instead and I think this is one of the reasons why it has endured for so long.<br />
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<br />Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-34153399487659250562013-02-21T01:29:00.000-08:002015-01-25T07:03:14.884-08:00My 100 greatest albums of the last 30 years<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's become pretty obvious to those of us who were of a certain age in the late 80s and early 90s that we were lucky enough to be in our prime when some of the greatest bands ever to come down the pike were cranking out album after album of truly awesome shit. It was like they were coming off some assembly line in rock and roll heaven, so sublime and consistent was the quality. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Of course, I'm not talking about the pap that was playing on the radio, hell no. I'm talking about the <i>good</i> shit that was coming out of the basements and garages and small clubs, mostly in the USA, coast to coast. These records were being released on small independent labels with names like SST, Touch and Go, Blast First, 4AD, Trance Syndicate, Amphetamine Reptile, Domino, Big Cat, Thrill Jockey, Glitterhouse, Kranky.... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was like a giant underground tsunami that built and built, until the wave finally broke sometime around the late 90s. By then, the world had discovered Nirvana and grunge happened and it got pretty messy. Some bands got signed to major labels and made a bit of dough and a lot of good bands who should've gone nova got passed over. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But the music has stood the test of time. Some of those bands are now reforming and playing and touring again and sound just as great as before (Dinosaur Jr, Swans), others never quit playing at all but just adopted different personas. In any event, its hard not to be nostalgic, and I admit that most of my record buying in the last 5 - 10 years has been devoted to accumulating as many of the releases from this era as I can. Hell, there isn't much around these days that can even touch these bands, to my ears. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So in the best tradition of anally retentive music freaks everywhere (of which I am definitely one), I thought I would try to sum up what I consider to be the best 100 albums that came out of that era. It's loosely defined as the best 100 in the last 30 years. What are we in now, 2013? So that would be since 1983. That would pretty much cover it. Some of these might predate that by a year or two, but hey, who's counting right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So here we go... bear in mind, this is loosely in order of preference, but it's not fanatically strict or anything. Hell, it might even be in chronological order, as I think back on how it all presented itself to me. Above all, this list is strictly PERSONAL. These are the best 100 albums<i> in my opinion</i>. There are a LOT I had to leave out, no doubt about it, but that's the nature of the beast. Its all about ruthless <i>culling</i> until you get to that top list of all-time classics.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I wont put em all up at once, so keep checking back. This is the first 10, or 100 to 90, counting down... enjoy! The rest will come along in due time (I do have a real job y'know).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>100. The Blasters - Hard Line</b></span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is pretty much where it all started for me. I </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">took one look at the cover of this album and I was gone. Sucked into</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> a </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">vortex of pure Americana. It seemed incredibly cool to me that people would still be making traditional rock and roll in the </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">early </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">80s, albeit </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">with a hard punk edge. Dave Alvin's voice was also something else, it had pure hillbilly in it, a coyote yelp that spoke of the high prairie, cut through with the fins of a 1958 Plymouth Fury. Of course, these guys were pure Los Angeles by then, but the music seemed to encompass all of the USA. It took in Route 66, Sun Studios, the Appalachian Trail, the <span style="font-size: small;">Mississippi</span> Delta and the vast sweeping prairies of the mid-west. It was true blue. The lyrics were also superb, vignettes of a blue collar life, lived from paycheck to paycheck. It kicked off with the finger popping <span style="font-size: small;">rockabilly</span> of <i>Trouble Bound</i>, which spoke of the craziness of youth, the need to get out and live it up, no matter what the consequences and ended with the rip<span style="font-size: small;">-</span>roaring, hell<span style="font-size: small;">-</span>for<span style="font-size: small;">-</span>leather rebel yell of <i>Rock and Roll Will Stand</i>. For a 17<span style="font-size: small;">-</span>yr old, this was heady stuff indeed. Despite the energy of the music, it was clear the Blasters were real pros, hard<span style="font-size: small;">-</span>working musicians who spent every night in smoke-filled bars, playing the hell out of <span style="font-size: small;">it</span>. They played<span style="font-size: small;"> this stuff</span> for a <i>living</i>, this was no side project while studying law at college. Although they were thrown in with a lot of new US music coming out at the time, they were clearly different. I just couldnt believe how cool they were. I immediately attempted to source a pair of skinny jeans, boots and striped shirt, just like Dave Alvin wore. I was a disciple from day one.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">99. Jason and the Scorchers - Lost & Found</span></b></span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k7qgMHeGRL0/URoAa4tsWGI/AAAAAAAAAW0/-2pN5ARYd6I/s1600/Lost&Found.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k7qgMHeGRL0/URoAa4tsWGI/AAAAAAAAAW0/-2pN5ARYd6I/s200/Lost&Found.jpg" height="200" width="191" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jason and the Scorchers came out of the same barrel of bourbon as the Blasters (by then, the movement had been branded cow punk, which sounded kind of silly to my ears) but they were even more high octane. <i>Lost and Found</i> was sheer rock and roll, as pure and as devastating as 101 proof white lightnin' <span style="font-size: small;">taken </span>straight from the jar. Band leader and singer Jason Ringenberg had a pure, high voice that ached with yearning. He was a seriously natty dresser too, sport<span style="font-size: small;">ing a</span> pink coat, string tie and full blown Stetson<span style="font-size: small;"> on the cover of the al<span style="font-size: small;">bum</span></span>. Hailing from Nashville, they were the real deal, as down home and countryfied as any cowpuncher tooling along in his Ford F-150 with a bottle of <span style="font-size: small;">Bud</span> between his knees. Except this wasn't any kind of country music you'd heard before, this was <span style="font-size: small;">country</span> played with punk fire and metal ferocity. They were like the bastard offspring of Jerry Lee Lewis and AC/DC. Jason and the Scorchers ripped that shit up! There were plenty of tunes, no doubt about it, but they played the hell out of it too. <i>Lost and Found</i> was their high water mark. We're talking a perfect set of tunes, by all accounts this should have been a massive album on the popularity stakes. The first two tracks - <i>White Lies<span style="font-size: small;"> </span></i><span style="font-size: small;">and</span><i> If Money Talks</i> - are pure slamming rock tunes, and by the time <i>I Really Dont Want to Know</i> kicks in, if you aren't on your feet playing air guitar and whipping your head back and forth, there's something seriously wrong with you. Hell, you may even be dead. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3ezJZqDEtU4/URoI-fZopbI/AAAAAAAAAXE/SSAICJqZwY4/s1600/Miami.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3ezJZqDEtU4/URoI-fZopbI/AAAAAAAAAXE/SSAICJqZwY4/s200/Miami.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>98. The Gun Club - Miami</b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Gun Club were lead by a ma</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">dman with bleached blonde hair called Jeffrey Lee Pierce. A southern boy, trans</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">planted to Los Angeles, he emb</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">raced the rock and roll lifestyle with </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">no reservations and had a gargantuan appetite for the </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">vices that have claimed so many musicians before their time as they would eventually claim him too.<i> </i></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Miami </i>w</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">as the second outing by his band, and although most Gun </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Club aficianados prefer the first album, <i>Fire </i><i>of Love</i>, to me <i>Miami</i> wa</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">s the so</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">und that </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">defined them. The cover was the first thing that caught my eye. Its a stark image of two of LA's famous palm trees, while the key members of the band are squashed into the bottom third of the picture. Jeffrey looks pissed <span style="font-size: small;">as hell</span>. <span style="font-size: small;"><i>Miami</i> <span style="font-size: small;">hit<span style="font-size: small;">s the ground running</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">, <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">there are no weak tracks on the album, <span style="font-size: small;">although</span> a mighty cover of Creedence's <i>Run Through the </i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Jungle </i><span style="font-size: small;">is a definite </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">the stand-out</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>.</i></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-size: small;">B</span>ut it was the <span style="font-size: small;">second half of the album where</span> <span style="font-size: small;">it a<span style="font-size: small;">chieved instant classic status</span>.</span> From the haunting voodoo of <i>Watermelon </i></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Man</i>, the demented stomp of <i>Bad Indian</i>, the story of infamous outlaw <i>John </i><i>Hardy</i> and </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">finally the brief but immen</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">sely powerful <i>Fire of Love<span style="font-size: small;">, </span></i><span style="font-size: small;">with its cascading riff and</span><i><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></i>crashing cymbals, <span style="font-size: small;">the bands incredible diversity and creativity was i<span style="font-size: small;">n <span style="font-size: small;">abu<span style="font-size: small;">ndant evidence</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>. The closer<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">, <i>Mother of Earth</i> <span style="font-size: small;">was blues rock perfecti<span style="font-size: small;">on, and it never fai<span style="font-size: small;">ls to</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> send chills down the spine every time<span style="font-size: small;"> JLP sings</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> the<span style="font-size: small;"> </span>lines:<i> I've gone down the river of sadness/I've gone down the river of pain</i><i>/ In </i><i>the dark under the wires, I hear the</i><i>m call my name/I gave you the key to my highway/</i><i>and the key to my motel drawer/And I'm tired of leaving and leaving/ I can't come back no more</i><i>/ Oh my dark-eyed friend/I'm recalling you again/Soft voices that speak nothing/speak nothing to the end</i>. Jeffrey had been to the other side, looked into the abyss and he knew a bad end awaited him. But before he went out, he put down some true classics, of which <i>Miami</i> may well be the greatest testament to a life lived truly 'off the reservation'.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>97. Black Flag - My War</b></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Full credit for this being featured here must go to my buddy Chris Kerstein, who saw the potential of this band way before I did (actually, the fact is Chris introduced me to <span style="font-size: small;">most of the bands <span style="font-size: small;">featured in th<span style="font-size: small;">is section)</span></span></span>. He practically thrust it under my nose and said, <span style="font-size: small;"><i>'</i></span>take a listen to <i>this<span style="font-size: small;">,</span></i> fucker!'<span style="font-size: small;"> Ho<span style="font-size: small;">wever, m</span>y head was into<span style="font-size: small;"> other sounds at the time, so I waved it off</span></span>. <span style="font-size: small;">More fool me.</span> Years later, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">once I had bec<span style="font-size: small;">o</span>me a committed fan of the Rollins Band,</span> I would seek out the band again and come to fully appreciate the power of Black Flag. <i>My War</i> is a bizarre<span style="font-size: small;"> and challenging</span> album, the <span style="font-size: small;">title track a blast of sheer menace courtesy of <span style="font-size: small;">Henry's patented turn<span style="font-size: small;">-my<span style="font-size: small;">-</span>guts- inside<span style="font-size: small;">-</span>out <span style="font-size: small;">vocal styl<span style="font-size: small;">ings<span style="font-size: small;"> and Greg Ginn<span style="font-size: small;">'s machine gun <span style="font-size: small;">riffing</span></span></span>. A<span style="font-size: small;">fte<span style="font-size: small;">r that<span style="font-size: small;">, things slow down <span style="font-size: small;">a bit</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">and Ginn's genius manifests itself, even introducing a bit of heavy metal in there with <i>I Can't Decide</i>. By the time you get to <i>Beat My Head Against </i><i>The Wall</i>, you realise there is nothing at all predictable about this band. Later on, things get even weirder as the band slows down to a near crawl, pre-empting the doom rock movement that would spring up in the deserts of Arizona some years later lead by a band called Kyuss. Black Flag were always saddled with the success of earlier punk classic <i>Damaged</i>. As good as it was, that sound was very limited, and the real 'hardcore' fans were forever condemning them <span style="font-size: small;">for</span> wanting to spread their wings a little. This is idiotic in the extreme. Any creative person wants to be able to grow and try new shit and Black Flag were nothing if not creative. <i>My War</i> is the sound of a punk band doing whatever the hell it wants to do in the studio<b>, </b>while remaining fiercely true to its values. Nothing more punk rock than that.</span></span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>98. H<span style="font-size: small;">ü</span>sker </b><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Dü - New Day Rising</b> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Black Flag brought a lot of attention to the label SST, who had a variety of bands on their roster at the beginning of the 80s. One of these was a power trio from Minneapolis called Hüsker Dü. Yeah, weird name right? Apparently they got the name from some Swedish boardgame. Nobody had any idea how to pronounce the dang name either. It didn't really matter though because it looked cool as hell on the album covers. Plus they had this <i>sound</i>. It was pretty damn awesome. The guitars were loud, yet melodic. It sounded like there were three guitarists, but there was only one, singer Bob Mould. Yeah, weird name! Plus, old Bob looked like a redneck trucker, although as it turned out, he was pretty far from that. And they had all these tunes, gorgeous tunes. It was a punk rock all right, but once you got past the screaming on the title track, some really beautiful songs came to the fore. Like my all time favourite, <i>The Girl Who Lives on Heaven Hill</i>. My gawd what a song this is! The chorus is just the catchiest fuckin' thing ever. WTF kind of punk band was this? It turns out the band had not one but TWO great songwriters and they made sure the tunes never got boring. The tuneful side of HD would reach its epoch on a later album, <i>Candy Apple Grey</i>, but this one was a pivotal record for me at a certain time in my life when I was young, dumb and full of, well, you know what...</span></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">97. Sonic Youth - Bad Moon Rising </span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It is hard to gauge exactly the impact this record had on my impressionable young mind. Suffice to say it was profound. From the bizarre cover image to the pic on the back of the band wrapped up against the New York cold, I thought they were the coolest dudes on the planet. These guys were just out there. Many would pick <i>Daydream Nation</i> as the Sonic Youth record to namecheck but for me, <i>Bad Moon Rising</i> represented the 'true' Sonic Youth. When I got through grooving on the cover art and the music kicked in, it got even weirder. Although Sonic Youth would gradually move more and more into melodic tunes that could be hummed while you drove around, on this album the sound was uniformly forbidding and severe. It sounded like western civilisation was on the verge of crumbling to dust and the apocalypse was just around the corner. Relying on chiming guitars, distorted feedback and cryptic intoned vocals, this was 'art' rock at its most hostile and oblique. What rescued it from pretentiousness was the undeniable power of SY's creative vision. Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon were a potent team, a Sonny and Cher for the disaffected generation. By the time the mighty closer, <i>Death Valley '69</i> kicked in, with a stellar contribution from fellow NY art weirdie, Lydia Lunch, it was obvious that they would soon be leaders of the emerging New York noise scene, and so it came to be. </span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U61NEZ9GXlg/URz9TGC2f6I/AAAAAAAAAYE/j3FVDgKVmbA/s1600/youre-living-all-over-me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U61NEZ9GXlg/URz9TGC2f6I/AAAAAAAAAYE/j3FVDgKVmbA/s200/youre-living-all-over-me.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>96. Dinosaur Jr - You're Living All Over Me</b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Another band that SST had picked up on was yet another power trio, this time lead by a long-haired, sleepy eyed dude, who seemed to the antipathy of a rock star. J Mascis may well have been the prototype slacker, but when he got up on stage, he was a guitar god, and the band were infamous for cranking it up to ear-bleeding levels when playing live. J's guitar is the first thing that comes at you when you put this on, the wah wah pedal working furiously. Opening track <i>Little Fury Things</i> hits you right between the eyes, especially when J starts in with his deadpan vocals. Its a really weird combo, but it works. The rhythm section is perfectly in time and the songs are short but still manage to sound expansive. The songs were usually about the longing for understanding and companionship, no doubt signalling that the guys' high school years were less than wonderful. The lyrics of Sludgefeast expressed that yearning perfectly: I<i>'m waiting/please come by/ I've got the guts now/to meet your eye</i>. Naturally it makes for superb material if you're of a musical bent and feel the need to express yourself. The over-arching impression is that these guys were just busting out with musical ideas, and each track on the album is full of interesting asides. For a band on a punk label, they were helluva versatile on their instruments, even muso-like. Fortunately the guitar solos never overwhelmed the tunes, and as a result, <i>You're Living All Over Me</i> assumed instant classic status. Lucky for us, Dinosaur Jr have now reformed and are putting out new records, and they are just as great as anything they did 25 years ago.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">95. The Replacements - Let It Be</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This was another record cover that I pored over for hours. It just fascinated the hell out of me. To this day I still own a pair of dirty white hi-top Converse sneakers because of this record. It's just a bunch of dudes sitting on a roof, no grooming, no special lighting, no exotic animals or locations, the incredible ordinariness of that picture didn't even hint at the remarkable musical talent that the group shared. By day they were ordinary schmoes, wastrels, with no hope of ever becoming anything worth a damn. But by night, behind their instruments, they were budding rock gods. Ol' Bob Stinson, now dead, is the one second from left with the wasted look on his face. Chances are pretty good he <i>was</i> wasted at the time. Singer Paul Westerberg sits to his left. What a voice, what a writing talent. In any other universe, The Replacements would have been as big as Queen, or Led Zeppelin, they were that great. <i>Let It Be</i> is so full of incredible tunes its not even funny. And yet they were on the verge of falling apart before their career even got started, so chaotic was their general approach to everything. Despite this they still managed to produce an album that is still astonishing today in its amazing depth and variety. It even has a song on it called <i>Gary's Got a Boner</i>, (if that isn't the greatest song title ever, I don't know what is). But despite two albums of extremely trashy punk rock that preceded it the Replacements proved with <i>Let It Be</i> that they were very far from one trick ponies. Two albums were to follow that were arguably even better, cementing their position as easily one of the most influential bands of the post-Beatles era.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>94. Tom Waits - Swordfishtrombones</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a6WXctbFHNY/USDMfEot8vI/AAAAAAAAAYc/JxHJiZsOGg4/s1600/swordfishtrombones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a6WXctbFHNY/USDMfEot8vI/AAAAAAAAAYc/JxHJiZsOGg4/s200/swordfishtrombones.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I know I referred sneeringly to 'pap on the radio' in the intro to this piece, but ironically that was exactly where I first heard Tom Waits. Granted it was late night radio when there was a much better chance of the good stuff being played. It was a piece off Swordfish and I was immediately struck by the voice and the rich imagery the song conjured up. To my mind Swordfish is one of the most cinematic records ever made. Every song is like a little movie in your mind. The words are so descriptive, the music so evocative, you only have to close your eyes to be totally immersed in it. On <i>Sh</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>ore Leave</i>, the post-war feel of a sailor enjoying some RnR is rendered in such vivid detail, that its hard to believe Tom Waits wasn't in the merchant marines most of his life. On <i>Soldier's Things</i>, all it takes is a solitary piano and double bass as Waits recites a litany of items that once belonged to a boy gunned down in some foreign country to achieve an unforgettably haunting effect. The music is uniquely atmospheric. It's not a rock record, its not a jazz record, it's not a spoken word piece, but it has elements of all of these. Leading it all with his smoky, whisky drenched voice, Waits spins tales purely of the imagination, soaked in bathtub gin, one part Damon Runyon, one part pulp magazine and one part barbershop repartee. </span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QUe1PeWQrZc/USDYLxTF7mI/AAAAAAAAAYs/KbPl8HQxNc4/s1600/REM_Reckoning_cover_edit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QUe1PeWQrZc/USDYLxTF7mI/AAAAAAAAAYs/KbPl8HQxNc4/s320/REM_Reckoning_cover_edit.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a>93. R.E.M. - Reckoning</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">In some ways it's bittersweet when a band you've known and enjoyed for a long time goes big. In the case of R.E.M. it was more bitter that sweet. This was largely because they seem to be divided into two different bands, the early and the later version, a bit like Elvis. It was the later version of the band that went massive, but for many of us, it will always be the early R.E.M. that is the one worth caring about. <i>Reckoning</i> was probably their first true manifesto. Although another excellent record - <i>Murmur</i> - preceded it,<i> Reckoning</i> is where R.E.M. came into full flower. All of the elements that defined the band were there in full strength. The whole affair was drenched in mystery, the unique mystery that is the American South. From the cover art by Reverend Finster, to the oblique vocal stylings of Michael Stipe (who on earth knew what he was singing about, but whatever it was, it sounded truly exotic), to the dense and intricate patterns woven by guitarist Peter Buck, it was a unique and exciting presence. On <i>Reckoning</i>, this all comes together with stunning power on the track <i>Seven Chinese Brothers</i>. For a long time this was the quintessential R.E.M. song for me, along with <i>Gardening at Night</i> from the <i>Chronic Town</i> E.P. Not that it's the only good track on the album, in fact there isn't a weak number on the entire album, and they are more than capable of rocking out, (as <i>Pretty Persuasion</i> amply demonstrates). A band has never been able to sound quite so powerful without making a lick of sense before or since. It was pure musical poetry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>92. Scratch Acid - Scratch Acid</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S8cHP0k6o3k/USDmtdjggcI/AAAAAAAAAY8/eoNbrD6wobM/s1600/ScratchAcidEP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S8cHP0k6o3k/USDmtdjggcI/AAAAAAAAAY8/eoNbrD6wobM/s320/ScratchAcidEP.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's difficult to over-estimate the impact this album had on the American post-hardcore noise rock scene. It was pretty much unique when it first exploded back in 1984; with the exception of the Butthole Surfers, no-one else was working in this area. Considering it was an eight track EP that clocked in at just over 20 minutes, this was no mean feat. Still, there was enough madness and originality encapsulated in those eight tracks to fill three albums by any other band. These four scarily normal looking individuals from Austin, Texas had made a record that could give Ed Gein the heebie jeebies. From the moment the first track <i>Cannibal</i> comes gibbering and sobbing out of the speakers, you know you're in the presence of some truly debauched individuals who knew no limits to their collective imaginations. By the time you reached track 8, <i>Lay Screaming</i>, it was hard to prevent the bile from rising to the back of the throat. That didn't change the fact that they had incredible vision and musical ability however. They simply chose to write about the 'darker' side of life. David Yow would go on to do more psychopathic things with The Jesus Lizard, along with his compatriots David Wm Sims and Ray Washam, a rhythm section of extraordinary ability who also made an immeasurable contribution to the short-lived Rapeman project lead by analog champion and professional knob twiddler, Steve Albini. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>91. Honeymoon in Red - Honeymoon in Red</b></span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tlZYMrpGcAk/UST8BisX5zI/AAAAAAAAAZM/ImBld3BXHRM/s1600/HoneymoonInRed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tlZYMrpGcAk/UST8BisX5zI/AAAAAAAAAZM/ImBld3BXHRM/s200/HoneymoonInRed.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I don't recall exactly how this album came to be in my possession. Certainly my recollection of receiving it is not as vivid as some others. I do, however, distinctly recall the time and place that I first got into it. It is one of those albums that are able to take me back to that time in my life whenever I listen to it, which is possibly why I have such a fondness for it. Originally intended as a side project of notorious Melbourne punk rockers, The Birthday Party, the collaboration process apparently wasn't as equally rewarding for all involved, and the project never managed to produce another album. Despite the objections of Nick Cave and Mick Harvey </span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">(who asked that their names be removed from the liner notes) </span>to the over-dubbed and remixed tracks, it is a vivid and startling listening experience, quite unlike any other. Rich and varied sonic landscapes are created over which Lunch croaks or intones her lyrics like a giant black crow. My description might make it all sound unbearably gothic but the sum is often greater than the parts. The preoccupation of the songs is very much directly out of <i>noir</i> cinema - murder and betrayal, the usual smorgasbord of human frailty and treachery. The overall effect is pretty dark, admittedly, but the beauty of the arrangements and the peerless weirdness of it all saves it from complete parody. It works particularly well on tracks like <i>Dead River</i>, <i>Done Dun</i> and the mighty <i>Three Kings</i>. Truth be told the only thing that really lets the side down is the rather odd vocals by Mr Howard, which to my ears verge on the comical on <i>Still Burning</i> and the cover version of <i>Some Velvet Morning</i>. Let's just say, Nick Cave he ain't!</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cNkVzqWPsqs/USXWGHrUB_I/AAAAAAAAAZc/7_2gjLFyO0I/s1600/The_Firstborn_Is_Dead.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cNkVzqWPsqs/USXWGHrUB_I/AAAAAAAAAZc/7_2gjLFyO0I/s320/The_Firstborn_Is_Dead.png" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>90. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - The Firstborn is Dead</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Once again I have to thank my old buddy Chris for turning me on to this record. I distinctly remember him waving it at me, insisting it was brilliant. The cover was certainly startling enough, depicting Cave in stark relief, dressed all in black, hair slicked back, hands folded in front of him like a serial killer about to unveil all his darkest secrets. The music within was equally evocative and found Cave at the height of his obsession with the American South. As any fule kno, this part of the world offers a tremendously rich musical vein to mine, from delta blues to traditional folk and prison songs. Cave and the band were clearly steeped in it. From the opener <i>Tupelo</i>, which is as stark and forbidding as it gets, the album rolls forward with all the power of the mighty Mississippi. <i>Black Crow King</i> continues in a similar vein, with its call and response form echoing that of the mournful work songs of old chain gangs. On <i>Knockin' On Joe</i> it gets so dark it borders on parody but it's rescued by the utter sincerity of the delivery. Fortunately the next track, </span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>Wanted Man</i>, a cover of a song by Johnny Cash,</span> is a real knock-out and easily one of the best things Cave has ever done. All in all <i>Firstborn is Dead</i> is once again an album that doesn't always make for easy listening, but is strong meat all the way and a work of tremendous imagination. Given I was barely out of high school when I started listening to it, and that it introduced me to the works of Flannery O'Connor, it sure as hell left an impression on my young, partially formed brain.<b> </b></span><br />
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Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-67279419361716445932012-10-23T04:34:00.001-07:002012-10-23T22:43:44.629-07:00It's the Barack and Mitt Show!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jmVLEtU9EV0/UIZ-ofHd2-I/AAAAAAAAAUw/fCa4MV-saYo/s1600/President-Barrack-Obama1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jmVLEtU9EV0/UIZ-ofHd2-I/AAAAAAAAAUw/fCa4MV-saYo/s320/President-Barrack-Obama1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barack Obama wants four more years</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Well, its one of the b<span style="font-size: small;">iggest shows</span> around at the moment.... I'm talking of course, about the US presidential elections. In just about two weeks from now, Americans will go to the polls to decide whether they want to stick with the Dream Big candidate or go for the new guy, the CEO candidate. It's been a tight race up until recently. Mitt Romney said some dumb things and was all but written off until he came roaring back in the first of three debates and re-ignited the passion of his followers.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">I have watched all three debates and I was fairly engaged throughout. A lot of <span style="font-size: small;">assertions were made and accus<span style="font-size: small;">ations</span></span> thrown about<span style="font-size: small;">, <span style="font-size: small;">many of them only half truths or outright fabrications. </span></span>I expect the average American viewer must have been sitting there in a haze of boredom and confusion. After all, even if you can get beyond the stats, how do you tell who's lying and who's telling the truth? Even the fact checkers couldnt quite agree on <span style="font-size: small;">exactly what was <span style="font-size: small;">the truth and what was made up</span></span>... so do the debates really help anyone to make up their minds? <span style="font-size: small;">It's very hard to say. Its a wonderful <span style="font-size: small;">tradition</span>, but I feel its largely been<span style="font-size: small;"> made a mockery of</span> by the very medium its featured on - television.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mitt says I'm your man</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">It's not so much the problem of what the candidates are saying, as what they are <span style="font-size: small;">NOT</span> saying. On many occasions I wanted one of them to break out and say something real, but they are so schooled by their teams to stick to repeating stock phrases over and over again, that </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">actually </span>very little of substance emanates from their mouths. They are also told not to indulge in long statements, which the press dubs as 'rambling'. Obama is said to be 'guilty' of this. In other words, when he tries to explain something in greater detail, people accuse him of being professorial, <span style="font-size: small;">as if</span> that is bad thing. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">By this I mean</span>, everyone wants their children to get a college education but when one of the candidates starts behaving <i>like a college professor</i>, everyone g<span style="font-size: small;">ets turned off</span>: 'Cut it out, dude<span style="font-size: small;">, </span>you're BORING everyone to death." S<span style="font-size: small;">o even though everyone says the econ<span style="font-size: small;">omy is the big issue<span style="font-size: small;">, no-one really wants to<span style="font-size: small;"> see their ca<span style="font-size: small;">ndidate explain how they wil<span style="font-size: small;">l <span style="font-size: small;">attack and <span style="font-size: small;">solve this problem in any real depth. </span></span></span>This is TV! We w<span style="font-size: small;">ant snapp<span style="font-size: small;">y lines, quips, sound b<span style="font-size: small;">ites. Little <span style="font-size: small;">bit<span style="font-size: small;">e<span style="font-size: small;">-</span>sized chunks</span></span> of policy. Be Charlie Sheen, not Paul K<span style="font-size: small;">rug<span style="font-size: small;">man<span style="font-size: small;">!</span> The inference is: people are too stupid to grasp anything too complex <span style="font-size: small;">on TV. The very nature of the <span style="font-size: small;">debates prevents serious discussion. Each candidate gets two minutes to speak. Just how m<span style="font-size: small;">uch information can you even deliver in two minutes? Not much.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">So</span> w<span style="font-size: small;">hy is</span> everyone still watching, TV dinners on laps, when there is nothing much to hear? Well, it's not so much about WHAT the candidate is saying, as HOW they are saying it. Does he look presidential? Is he cool, calm and collected? Is he being rude? Is he aggressive/passionate enough or is he just a robot? Does he look trustworthy or shifty under the <span style="font-size: small;">st<span style="font-size: small;">udio</span></span> lights. Can we relate to him? Is he a nice guy? Its like a job interview. It really tells you nothing about the <span style="font-size: small;">applicant. But <span style="font-size: small;">employe<span style="font-size: small;">es get a <span style="font-size: small;">pro<span style="font-size: small;">ba<span style="font-size: small;">tionary period<span style="font-size: small;">,</span> presidential candidates on the other hand<span style="font-size: small;">, once<span style="font-size: small;"> in, are in for four years.</span></span></span> <span style="font-size: small;">In tr<span style="font-size: small;">uth</span></span>, NONE of these things <span style="font-size: small;">should matter</span> when it comes to the crucial issues of the day. And yet these are the factors that will ultimately decide the outcome of the election. </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Before television, candidates gave speeches on the campaign trail, wrote editorials in newspapers, engaged with people in public forums. But since television, <span style="font-size: small;">that hardly</span> matters anymore. Now its just talking heads, sound bites, instant analysis, catchphrases that are tweeted and re-tweeted (binders full of women, who killed big bird). <span style="font-size: small;">You ever wonder how the USA <span style="font-size: small;">managed to<span style="font-size: small;"> end up with</span></span> 8 years of George W Bush? Here's your answer: he bought more television time<span style="font-size: small;"> than h<span style="font-size: small;">is <span style="font-size: small;">oppo<span style="font-size: small;">nent. T<span style="font-size: small;">V <i>worked</i> for him.</span> He came across as a regular, down<span style="font-size: small;">-</span>to<span style="font-size: small;">-</span>earth <span style="font-size: small;">kind of guy on TV. Someone the voter could 'relate' to. Someone <span style="font-size: small;">they</span> could have a bee<span style="font-size: small;">r with. Some people do well on TV. Its a good med<span style="font-size: small;">ium for <span style="font-size: small;">them. Does that mean they will make a good president? Hell, no.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Ultimately the debates have not shifted the polls too much. Romne<span style="font-size: small;">y had a big lift <span style="font-size: small;">after the <span style="font-size: small;">first debate, largely d<span style="font-size: small;">ue to a l<span style="font-size: small;">ack-luster performance (<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">a word not used lightly</span>) from Obama. But since then Obama has fought back, not by changing <i>what</i> he is saying, but 'acting' more like he means it. He's <span style="font-size: small;">been more animated, more passionate, made more eye contact. He<span style="font-size: small;">'s still saying the EXACT same things, b<span style="font-size: small;">ut his body language has changed. Because that's what r<span style="font-size: small;">eally counts on <span style="font-size: small;">TV, as his advisers have no doubt hammered into him remo<span style="font-size: small;">rselessly since that first debate. Its not like radio and the <span style="font-size: small;">w<span style="font-size: small;">ritten word, where you have to concentrate on WHAT is being said<span style="font-size: small;">, without <span style="font-size: small;">the d<span style="font-size: small;">istraction of pictures. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">But that is the reality of our <span style="font-size: small;">w<span style="font-size: small;">orld</span></span> today. <span style="font-size: small;">TV <span style="font-size: small;">has an i<span style="font-size: small;">nordinately powerful</span></span> <span style="font-size: small;">in<span style="font-size: small;">fl<span style="font-size: small;">uence on the outcome</span></span></span> of this cri<span style="font-size: small;">tical event</span>. If you're going to make it in politics, you have to <span style="font-size: small;">look good and sound good</span> on TV, now more than ever. So what's the big deal? Americans <span style="font-size: small;">have elected <span style="font-size: small;">presidents <span style="font-size: small;">that weren't <span style="font-size: small;">intellectual giants in the past (Ronald Reagan) and yet they managed to do OK. But the world is a very different place now. <span style="font-size: small;">The <span style="font-size: small;">stakes</span> are much <span style="font-size: small;">h<span style="font-size: small;">i<span style="font-size: small;">gh</span></span></span>er. The world desperately needs an America<span style="font-size: small;"> which will <span style="font-size: small;">g<span style="font-size: small;">et back on track economically and </span>lead us out of the darkness<span style="font-size: small;">. Hopefully, this will be</span> a wi<span style="font-size: small;">ser America, one that has learned from its mistakes<span style="font-size: small;"> and will be able to <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">avoid repeating some of the major <span style="font-size: small;">st<span style="font-size: small;">rategic errors</span></span> that caused</span> the hardships of the last decade. No more <span style="font-size: small;">unneccessary wars, no more rampant invest<span style="font-size: small;">ment banks that <span style="font-size: small;">bring the world's greatest econ<span style="font-size: small;">omy to its knees and then get a free pass<span style="font-size: small;">. No more <span style="font-size: small;">falling as<span style="font-size: small;">leep at the wheel and letting your advisers run the show.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Wh<span style="font-size: small;">ich is why this election is so critical<span style="font-size: small;">, and <span style="font-size: small;">why Americans should take the time to read up on their <span style="font-size: small;">candidates and ma<span style="font-size: small;">ke <span style="font-size: small;">a decision based on real, solid info<span style="font-size: small;">rmation, not what the TV says. The American people (and the world) need a <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">president</span> with a good hea<span style="font-size: small;">d <i>and</i> a good heart. <span style="font-size: small;">Both <span style="font-size: small;">are essential to a <span style="font-size: small;">successful Presiden<span style="font-size: small;">cy</span></span></span>. <span style="font-size: small;"> </span>I wish <span style="font-size: small;">us all the best of luck <span style="font-size: small;">come November 6th and I sincere<span style="font-size: small;">ly </span>hope t<span style="font-size: small;">hey make the r<span style="font-size: small;">ight decision.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-53076548674195824452012-04-16T04:37:00.033-07:002012-04-18T05:42:03.656-07:00Let the Good Times Roll - Again<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">The late 60s is a time of powerful mythology. The moon landing, Woodstock, Ken Kesey and the Magic Bus, Kent State, the Vietnam War, Charles Manson, Altamont... it’s a deep and extraordinarily rich vein that can be mined endlessly by anyone with an ounce of imagination.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">At the time, people - and young people in particular - just seemed to be operating on a higher consciousness. They wanted a better world, social justice, personal freedom, the right to blow weed, get laid and have a great time without worrying about the consequences. They wanted something <i>more</i>. They wanted to live out loud - in the moment. They weren’t ‘hung up’ on personal security, the economy, the formalities of society and all its rules. All that was just the messed-up doings of The Man… and The Man, as any fule knew, simply could not be trusted.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">In the 60s the pursuit of a higher consciousness, enlightenment and freedom <i>was</i> the business of the times. It was a real and tangible goal. Cynicism hadn’t yet obtained a stranglehold on the dreams of young people. Sure, all the mind-expanding drugs on hand and the fact that television had not yet become the all-pervasive influence it is today was a factor, but there had to have been something else too. What it was exactly is hard to say... <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Without a doubt there was a remarkable surge of creativity which yielded music and artistic expression of incredible power. Jimi Hendrix was only 27 years old by the time he died yet he left behind three landmark albums. Ditto Jim Morrison (only with more albums). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Coincidence? Maybe. What cannot be disputed is that there was a wild freedom to the music, an unconquerable spirit that was striving for the outer limits of human expression. But there was a price to pay. As always, those who flew too close to the sun ended up getting their wings badly burnt. Great art always demands its sacrifices. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Shoot forward 40 years and we are about as far away from that idealistic world as its possible to get. Its hard to find anything to be optimistic about in this old world of ours. It seems we have been on a serious downer for some time now. The party train has derailed completely. Perhaps its time we hit rewind and went back to the beginning, remember what it was that got everyone so excited back then. Some people are doing exactly that. Let's take a closer look at a couple of them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><b>Jonathan Wilson</b> is a seriously cool dude with a lot of talented friends and he's made an insanely groovy record in the form of his debut offering <i style="font-weight: bold;">Gentle Spirit. </i>It's a real soothing record, very, very laid back. And it tells us there is simply no need to dwell on all this heavy shit being laid on us on a daily basis. </span><span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Jonathan Wilson doesn’t care to deal with all that. He’d rather kick back in his LA pad, grow his hair long and put down some tunes that would put the Dude himself into a state of aural bliss. This guy can really channel those much-vaunted good vibrations. Where did they go?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/I8E9kQg9gCU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Sure it might stray into The Eagles type territory from time to time – and Lord knows The Dude wouldn’t dig that – but we can forgive Jonathan because he’s not some fat old dude trying to get his mojo back. He’s a young hepcat. He has friends like Charlie Sheen, no less (who gifted him his ride, a vintage Camaro muscle car). When he isn’t making this freakily chilled out music he’s building guitars. He’s a craftsman, he’s Jesus the Carpenter, there’s even a distinct physical resemblance. Praise the lord and pass the corn chips! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">And it is freaky… its time machine freaky. The sound is distinctively blissed out Southern Cali soul surfer stuff. Track 4, <i>Canyon Rain</i>, is a typical example. As the song opens to gently plucked acoustic guitar and what sounds like tabla drums, you’re not immediately sure if its brushes on cymbals you’re hearing or the sound of waves rolling in. Maybe they left the door open when they recorded it? The Doors’ <i>Rider on the Storm</i> comes to mind… but this is a much sunnier sound than the Doors. Wilson seems generally stoked with the world he sees around him. He’s a glass half full kind of guy. Only on <i>Can We Really Party Today?</i> does he get a bit moody and acknowledge that there’s something foul afoot in today’s world. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Wilson’s voice is not the strongest thing on the record. Tim Buckley he ain’t. It remains hushed throughout, only on <i>Magic Everywhere</i> does he attempt some real singing. He’s possibly more comfortable with his playing than singing ability. And certainly <b><i>Gentle Spirit</i></b> is mostly about the playing. It’s multi-instrumentalist’s dream. There’s even a harmonium! In fact, there is so much going on here it’s sometimes hard to keep track of all the instruments chiming in. It could be a great parlour game – ID the instrument and win a bong hit! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Despite the generally expansive mood of the album, it only strays into bloated over-indulgence on the last track, <i>Valley of the Silver Moon</i>. You know from the outset it’s gonna be a stretch to keep it interesting at over 10 minutes. Bear in mind, the album was originally conceived as a vinyl double album (naturally) and clocks in at 78 minutes. Many of the tracks are over 5 minutes in length. It’s a great driving album. You won’t have to change the CD for most trips and it will definitely curb your more base impulses when you encounter retarded drivers on the road.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/oiNv8XRpZ-8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">At a time when retro sounds are definitely in vogue, <b><i>Gentle Spirit</i></b> stands out by its lack of irony. It sounds like it comes straight outta the early 70’s but minus the mush and blur of a cocaine comedown and the asinine vocals that marred much of the music of that time. If you are feeling bummed out with the 21<sup>st</sup> century, you could do a lot worse than roll a blunt and put <b><i>Gentle Spirit</i></b> on the turntable and journey back to a time when things seemed kinder and gentler, even though they probably weren’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">In a very similar vein to the action being laid down by Mr Wilson we have these Swedish sisters who go by the cute name of <b>First Aid Kit</b>, who also seemed to have been plucked directly out of Haight-Ashbury circa '69 and dropped from the sky into our laps. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">It’s not just the clear as a bell vocals on their second full length outing, <b><i>The Lion’s Roar,</i></b> that evoke Joan Baez, Dusty Springfield and other immortal songbirds from the age of aquarius, it’s the whole <i>vibe</i> of the thing. The record itself seems to bear the hallmarks of the vintage technology of the times. Yes it’s recorded in high def on state of the art sound equipment and it sounds deliriously good on my stereo, but it’s still a note perfect tribute to the tube amp vibes of the times. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">These gals are obviously steeped in the mystique of Venice Beach, the legendary Newport Folk Festival and the aforementioned San Francisco hippie mecca – Hash Ashbury. If the muumuus they're wearing on the cover is any indication, along with the ironed-out hair half-way down their backs, they are very 'hip' to the power of this era. They are clearly deeply immersed in it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Indeed. And why not? Look around you. Does anyone really want to live in the present times? With the messages of doom and gloom churned out 24/7 on 155 channels. If I have to hear the phrase ‘global economic crisis’ one more time I’m gonna kick someone’s teeth in, I swear… </span><span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Heck no, people, that’s no way to live. So let’s stuff a little hash into our pipes, kick back on corduroy covered sofas, fire up the lava lamp and get down to the sounds of yesteryear.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Despite their youth, <b>First Aid Kit</b> have clearly worshipped long and hard at the altar of great music. On the stunning second track <i>Emmylou</i> they name check rock love affair legends Johnny Cash and June Carter and Emmylou Harris and Gram Parsons. They are well aware of what has gone before but it doesn’t intimidate them. They are up for the challenge of shrugging off the weight of the giants, while still acknowledging their influence. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">On <i>To a Poet</i>, the uncanny mimicry gets almost spooky. How do such young artists manage to deliver music this powerful, this effortless, when English isn’t even their first language? It’s a delightful mystery. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Throughout the album the girls voices are very much front and centre. The purity of their pipes is freakish and hauntingly reminiscent of… who, exactly? It’s hard to pin down. They seem to channel dozens of great female vocalists of the past, including current ones like Chan Marshall, Polly Harvey and Beth Orton. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Despite their relative youth, the music is startlingly mature and accomplished. They barely put a foot wrong, making <b><i>The Lion’s Roar</i></b> easily one of the best releases of this year thus far.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/PC57z-oDPLs?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">CODA: While researching this piece I stumbled across a new outfit that fits perfectly in with the general sentiment expressed here. They are a spacerock crew out of San Francisco called <b>Wooden Shjips</b> (no, that is not a typo) and they are mind-bendingly good. I am seriously excited about these guys. I mean, think Grateful Dead, Hawkwind, Can, all the way through to KYUSS, Nebula, Sleep and all that awesome blissed-out desert pschyedelia that came out of that Arizona scene. Wooden Shjips take all that and chuck it into the blender. Its serious head-nodding stuff but extremely groovy with it. They are just WILD man, wild. FAR... freaking... OUT.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">They have just released a new full length CD called West, which I immediately ordered. Prior to that they had some very exclusive vinyl only EPs out on some obscure labels, which have now been collated into two CDs - Vol 1 and Vol 2. They also have another mini-LP out called Dos. Apart from that I don't know much about them at all except that the lead singer has an awesome beard and plays a wicked looking vintage guitar. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Without much further ado, here is a couple of jams from these monsters for you to get your head around. WARNING: This music will seriously do your head in! So don't attempt to operate any heavy machinery or make a cake while grooving to this. Brownies maybe, but not cake!</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="text-align: center;">This is the first track off the new album, West</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">The band playing live for Radio station KXLU. The bassist appears to be blissfully unaware that he's been mauled by a vicious spider. </div><br />
</div>Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-14066339769226812732012-01-04T06:38:00.000-08:002012-01-04T07:40:58.922-08:00Best of 2011It's a popular pastime for people to offer their 'best of' lists for the year. I guess I'm a little slow but I thought I would offer up my best of regardless. For me, 2011 wasn't exactly a stellar year for movies. I mean, there were some good ones but only one really impressed the shit out of me. A couple were notable, as in really worth seeing, but only one I consider a 'must-see'.<br />
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In any event, this is the list of notable movies from last year and the film I think was the best of the lot:<br />
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<b>Drive</b><br />
This was pretty cool. Gosling excels in this type of ambiguous, creepy role and the deadpan 'man of few words' nature of the character suits his style of performance down to the ground. Albert Brooks was great too, in a non-typical part for him. It was well shot, and the music was cool. The violence I felt was a little overdone. I don't normally mind violence but it bordered on the absurd at times. I think the film could have used a bit more driving, given the title. Didn't quite understand the wierd, 80s-style font used in the credits though... thought that was a bit odd.<br />
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<b>Tree of Life</b><br />
If you're a fan of Terrence Malick's movies, you have to see this. Unfortunately I had to settle for a DVD because the morons that decide what movies should be shown here chose not to release it on circuit. This is definitely a movie that benefits from a big screen. But if you have a 40 inch or bigger TV set, you won't lose anything in the bargain, especially if you have Blu-Ray and can find a copy of this in Blu-Ray to rent. The visuals alone are worth the two hours. That said, it is Malick's most difficult film, and many have found it tiresome and pointless. I did not become bored watching it, except perhaps in the last 5 minutes, which I found superfluous. To be honest, I could have watched the 'birth of creation' scenes for two hours, so stunningly are they rendered. The story with Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain and their family is OK, but felt like a distraction. I didn't get it to be honest. I thought it was an attempt to inject a human story into the much bigger message that Malick was striving for, but I found the story a tad cliched. Brad Pitt was superb, as was Jessica Chastain. Sean Penn was wasted. He looked a bit wasted too. But it is beautiful to look at. Truly stunning. So watch it.<br />
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<b>Ides of March</b><br />
I've just reviewed this so suffice to say I wont blather on anymore about it. Just read the review or check it out for yourself. Well worth a look.<br />
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And now, without any further ado.... tadaaaaa.... my movie of the year choice goes to:<br />
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<b>Contagion</b><br />
Directed by: Steven Soderbergh<br />
Written by: Scott Z Burns <br />
Starring: Kate Winslet, Matt Damon, Marion Cotillard, Laurence Fishburne, Gwyneth Paltrow<br />
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The apocalyptic movie is a Hollywood staple. Armaggeddon, Deep Impact, 2012... the list goes on. It's a grim subject that nevertheless seems to be a strong drawcard for moviegoers. I guess people just enjoy getting the bejesus scared out of them. But usually these subjects are based on some frivolous and fanciful possibility, like the earth being struck by a meteor or some such unlikely event. People just know that's not likely to happen.<br />
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But <b>Contagion</b> is another kettle of fish entirely. It dwells on the possibility of a super virus devastating the globe, a <i>very real</i> possibility if you care to investigate the science. It already happened in 1918, with the Spanish Influenza epidemic, which is estimated to have killed 50 - 100 million people around the globe. No, that number is not a mistake. That's more than the two world wars combined. It was like a roaring runaway freight train of death, it just went rogue and could not be stopped. Whole families and villages were wiped out. A very bad juju indeed. Soderbergh's hypothesis is that this is just one little twist of fate away from happening again. All it takes is the right combination of bat droppings and bad hygiene at a pig farm and people start dropping like flies. One minute they are there, laughing, talking, breathing. And the next minute they are dead. It is this uniquly deadly characteristic of a level 4 virus that makes<b> Contagion</b> such a super creepy movie to watch. When it kills, it kills <i>fast</i>.<br />
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What also makes Contagion so effective is Soderbergh's penchant for documentary style movie-making that he first introduced so effectively in <b>Traffic</b>,<b> </b>his examination of America's War on Drugs. With <b>Contagion</b> he cranks the realism up to a whole new level and it makes for hyper-scary viewing. He uses big name actors but places them in low-key, ordinary schmuck type roles to heighten the realism even more. He shows Gywneth Paltrow's head been opened like a can of tomatoes. It's really pretty great. <br />
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The other thing he manages to achieve quite wonderfully is scale. The virus is of course a global phenomenon and Soderbergh really gives you a sense not only of how countries around the world would be affected by it but also of the sheer numbers involved. This final aspect is what contributes to the sheer apocalyptic nature of a true mega virus. The bodies start piling up so fast that the normal emergency and medical services can't cope. Society's structures that we rely on so much without even realising it, start to break down. Anarchy manifests itself and the rule of law is steam-rollered by the desperate need of so many people who are trying to survive. Soderbergh brings this sense of panic and desperation to the screen very effectively and you easily see how this would occur in modern day society where we are all so terribly reliant on the airport, drugstore, convenience store, internet... and all the rest of the modern conveniences.<br />
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Speaking of the internet, one of the most interesting aspects of the film is how a blogger, played by Jude Law, who is the first person to predict that the virus is going to go global, becomes a hugely influential player due to the panic that spreads almost as fast as the virus itself. He takes advantage of this to peddle a supposed cure for the virus and generate bucket-loads of cash for himself.<br />
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It's not an easy film to watch, and parts of it remind you uncomfortably of the current economic malaise that the world finds itself in, but it is undeniably powerful and eerily prescient. Just how long before it becomes a reality? You'll find yourself washing your hands a lot more often after watching this one.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/bdzWcrXVtwg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-19141158209194688752012-01-02T05:31:00.000-08:002012-01-02T06:23:48.582-08:00The Ides of March - Mozart for babies<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ripBz7BQyAU/TwGqP2Qle4I/AAAAAAAAATw/dUtgJ9FNTcM/s1600/ides-of-march-quad-poster-480x345.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ripBz7BQyAU/TwGqP2Qle4I/AAAAAAAAATw/dUtgJ9FNTcM/s400/ides-of-march-quad-poster-480x345.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>The Ides of March</b> is a <i>smart</i> film. It has smart actors, a smart director, smart dialogue, and a smart subject - the wheels within wheels of the political machine. You'll feel smarter just by watching it. But don't kid yourself that this is an in-depth look into this Machiavellian world, filled with penetrating insights. This is Mozart for babies. It will make you smarter if you watch it - but only because 99% of movies released these days will make you dumber just by being exposed to them. Even if its just the trailers. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The chief pleasures to be gained from the film lie with the near-perfect casting. We have Ryan Gosling in the main role. Ryan is hotter than a fresh-f***ed fox in a forest fire right now. Then there is the actor's actor, Philip Seymour Hoffman, as the candidate's campaign manager and another character actor stalwart, Paul Giamatti, as his counterpart. Both spin pure gold from their small roles. As the candidate we have the multi-talented George Clooney (who also directs). George sure<i> looks</i> the part and of course Clooney is fairly active in politics himself, comes from a political family and would probably make a crackerjack president if he ever ran for office. Not that he's dumb enough to do that. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then there are the women, delivering across the board despite having to make do with the bit parts as usual. Evan Rachel Wood is super sexy and vulnerable in a key role. Wood is a great, under-used actress (although in my personal opinion she is much more effective as a redhead). Marisa Tomei is fantastic as usual in a small part as a New York Times reporter, who seems to be the only journalist covering the presidential campaign, oddly enough. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Unfortunately there just doesn't seem to be enough screen time for some of the cast, particularly Mr Hoffman. The vast majority of screen time is taken up by Ryan Gosling, which will no doubt make the ladies happy but what about the rest of us? Gosling is good enough in the main part, but whether he can carry a whole movie is open for debate, despite the fact that he seems to be snatching up the lion's share of primo leading roles at the moment. But this is not his finest hour. He seems a little under-done. He prefers to go at it low-key, but he's a little TOO under the radar here. We don't ever feel that he really cares enough about the candidate. He's just a little, dare I say it - wooden? Perhaps there weren't sufficient scenes with Clooney up front. Gosling is interesting to watch but he is better in some roles than others. His range is not quite there yet.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ryan Gosling plays Stephen Meyers, the press liaison officer for a presidential candidate, Mike Morris (George Clooney). Stephen's job is to manage his boss's public profile, make sure the press are printing the right stories about Morris. In a world where a tightly managed public image is as vital as the air you breathe, Meyers has an extremely key role to play. And he's only 30 years of age! How he came to get this incredibly important job at such a tender age is never properly demonstrated. Instead we have one scene where the opposition candidate's campaign manager praises Stephen's abilities to the skies. OK then, done and dusted. Ummm.... no.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What conspires to keep <b>The Ides of March</b> from achieving real greatness is the severe lack of genuine insights and meaty dialogue. Any film that takes you behind the scenes of such a universally fascinating event as the US Presidential campaign should tell you something you didn't know before. If you're going to make a movie about the backroom dealings, insider trading and cut and thrust of the biggest political show of them all, then give us some <i>insights</i> into that world! Particularly now, when we are right in the middle of the Republican primaries, which are proving to be a real knock-down, drag out, fight to the finish, with no clear front runner. The timing is perfect. <b>Ides of March</b> is extremely topical and offers a great opportunity to throw some light on this world.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But we are never <i>shown</i> how it all works. The <i>detail</i> is sorely lacking. There's just a lot of mumbo jumbo about numbers and polls. Come on! Surely they could have given us some juicy tidbits on how press officers keep their boys looking nice and shiny despite legions of journalists all digging for the dirt. It must be a herculean task, but Gosling never even breaks a sweat. He's as cool as a cucumber the whole time. No over-flowing ashtray, no polystyrene coffee cup graveyard cluttering his desk, no peptic ulcer.<br />
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From what I understand, US presidential campaigns are fast-moving, back-breaking, extremely stressful affairs. In <b>Ides of March</b> it feels more like someone is running for town mayor rather than the biggest job of them all. For a better idea of what a campaign is<i> really</i> like, I highly recommend Hunter S Thompson's <b>Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail</b>, a classic of its kind and one of Thompson's finest efforts. It may seem a little dated, but there is so much in there that is still totally relevant to today's political world. And its hilarious to boot.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The one 'insight' that Ides of March manages to deliver is that politics is all about compromise. Duh! Robert Redford and Michael Ritchie already nailed that all the way back in 1972 with the highly effective minor classic<b> The Candidate</b>, which<b> Ides of March</b> is clearly heavily indebted to. But what we want in today's super-cynical and savvy world is to know HOW it all works. THAT would make for a highly entertaining movie. Unfortunately, it isn't to be found here. Perhaps if it had been David Mamet or the late and much-lamented Sidney Lumet at the helm of <b>Ides of March</b> it would have achieved greatness. Lumet's pacy, talky procedural thrillers like<b> Network</b>, <b>The Verdict</b>, <b>Night Falls on Manhattan</b> really gave you that 'fly on the wall' feeling. You felt like you were seeing things the way they really are. Not a movie-makers 'idea' of how things go. And Mamet's bust-a-gut laugh out loud spoof of political spin-doctoring <b>Wag the Dog</b> also had that ring of authenticity, outrageous as it was. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Although <b>The Ides of March</b> is a perfectly competent, and, like I said, smart movie it could have been so much more. Unfortunately the script has to take the blame here. In this case, less is definitely not more.Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-51357807367325785792011-12-16T01:12:00.000-08:002013-04-24T07:27:43.462-07:00Lana Del Rey - honey dripperOccasionally the internet surprises you with something good. I was checking out my subscriptions on youtube the other day and something caught my eye. I clicked on it and found myself being drenched in a waves of intoxicating sound. Not only that but it seemed to be emanating from the luxurious lips of a very fetching doll.<br />
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Name of said doll was Lana Del Ray. Intriguing. I did a quick scan of my memory banks. Nope, didn't ring a bell. Could it be new? But this sound was very accomplished, very distinctive... most unusual. Could this be happening? Could we really being seeing something NEW and EXCITING in the world of pop music?<br />
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As any fule kno, this is akin to stumbling across a chestful of gold doubloons when snorkelling off your favourite beach. ie, not incredibly likely. And yet here we are. Lana doesn't even have an album out yet. Of course, there is considerable buzz being generated around her music on the interwebz. This is the way it is done nowadays... <br />
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For a start, there is a ton of Lana material avail on YT. She seems to be using the ever popular cultural phenom as a highly effective means of getting the word out. Lots of it is video footage captured by her growing legions of fans at her concerts. Normally video cameras are banned at live performances, but this doesn't seem to be the case with Lana's shows. A canny move.<br />
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So where did this gal spring from? Well, according to her rather sparse Wikipedia entry, she's from the Big Apple. Yeah she's a NooYawker. With a cool Brooklyn Noo Yawk accent no less. Apparently daddy is a rich dude, who made his mills from domain investing, whatever the heck that is. But we wont hold that against her... much.<br />
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The name Lana Del Ray is a stage name. Real name is Elizabeth Grant. Lana Del Ray is a combo of Lana Turner and the Ford Del Ray. Yeah, a car. Not a particularly attractive one either so that aspect of it is is a mystery. We can understand the Lana Turner reference. Beautiful platinum blonde movie star who liked gangster types, died a tragic death in an automobile accident that caused her head to be separated from her body. But the Ford? Hmmm.... clearly the 50s/60s is a big inspiration to her, as well it should be. She digs deep from the well of the past and is smitten with the glamour of old world Hollywood. Nowt wrong with that! <br />
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Now admittedly, Lana is blessed with more than her fair share of natural gifts. Apart from the voice, she is obviously not hard to look at. As in she resembles Julia Roberts' younger sister. With this really great chestnut auburn, Ann Margret style red hair. Yeah...that's right. Blammo! But still, good looking singers are a dime a dozen. What exactly is it about Lana that's different?<br />
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Well, just take a listen to her music. It's not screechy, mindless bimbo pop. Its the opposite of that. It's blue velvety torch singer stuff. With lots of soul and great stories. With a real band that can play. It's not alternative and it ain't Diana Krall revisiting the classics neither. So what gives here? Who is this doll? What's her story? Why is she obsessed with the past and that old Hollywood glamour? Why does she wear too much eye-liner? Did she read Valley of the Dolls before she could handle it? Whatever it is, I like it. It is undoubtedly cool.<br />
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It's hard to say what the music world is going to do with Lana. The pop music industry likes its categories. Which makes it interesting. Who is going to grab onto this? Will she fall between the cracks and become a niche, cult thing like Chan Marshall and PJ Harvey or go really big? At this stage its hard to tell. She's no shrinking violet that's for sure, although her persona is distinctly off-beat... a little weird. Cultivated? Maybe, but to what end? <br />
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So it remains to be seen what will happen to Lana. One thing is for certain - I will be watching with interest. She feels like a genuine discovery, a bolt from the blue. And in today's super cynical, media savvy, digitalised world, that's a rare thing... a real Hadron Collider 'god particle' discovery.<br />
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Get a load of this performance filmed at the Chateau Marmont for starters. Get a load of the deep German inflections. Not sure what's up with that... Nico obsession perhaps?<br />
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Here she is being interviewed at the same location, discussing its significance in her music:<br />
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Lana doing Off to the Races at the Ruby Lounge in Manchester. Love this song:<br />
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Here is she doing China Doll. Little bit of Kate Bush coming through here.<br />
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More... its addictive I tell ya! Get a load of the quirky little movements...<br />
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Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-32837450440357455252011-10-05T00:35:00.001-07:002020-10-28T05:38:24.352-07:00They sprung Foxy!<div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qMXpU0ytwig/TowJq-G1YnI/AAAAAAAAATI/k18hrs63bzY/s1600/Hayden-Panettiere-As-Amanda-Know.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qMXpU0ytwig/TowJq-G1YnI/AAAAAAAAATI/k18hrs63bzY/s400/Hayden-Panettiere-As-Amanda-Know.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amanda 'Foxy Knoxy' Knox</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As the world watched, rapt with attention, the Eye-tie judge read out his verdict: acquitted on all charges, other than the defamation of her former boss</span><span style="font-size: small;">. Foxy slumped forward and burst into tears, as well she might. After serving four years in an Eye-talian jail, and facing another 20-odd years of same, she was now free to leave Italy and return home to the USA. </span></div></div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I first read about the Knox case in the New York Times a few years back, when she was convicted of the murder of Meredith Kirchner, along with her ex-boyfriend Rafael Sollecito and another dude, Rudy Guede (the most likely candidate for the deed).<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The case had attracted a ton of media attention because a) Knox with her clean-cut American looks was damned easy on the eye and b) the circumstances were juicy and salacious. The Eye-talian media were alleging that Knox and Rafael had been engaged in 'sex games' while high on pipe or whatever, had then tried to rope in Kercher to make it even more exciting, and Kircher resisted. This resulted in Knox and Sollecito murdering Kercher in a frenzy of drug-fuelled rage, stabbing her 20 times and slashing her throat with a kitchen knife.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, as tasty a story as this could hardly be resisted by the world's media and cue mucho column space devoted to speculation as to whether the pair had really killed poor Meredith, or were they the victims of a railroad job by the prosecutor, a dodgy individual by the name of Mignini, who concocted a pretty fantastic theory that the three had all been members of a Satanic sex cult.</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yeah, its pretty hard to make this stuff up! In any event the prosecutor was known to favour this theory and had even used it in a former trial of the so-called Monster of Florence case. So this guy has this pet theory that he trots out for every case he tries? Very dodgy stuff. Clearly, he had spent much time as an impressionable youth studying famous prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi's lurid account of the Manson murders, <i>Helter Skelter, </i>and it had forever left its mark on his young mind. </div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
The real issue around which the case revolved, of course, was hard physical evidence. As every fan of that great TV series <i>Medical Detectives</i> knows, it is <i>properly collected and processed</i> physical evidence that makes or breaks a case. As it turns out, the rube Eye-talian coppers had botched the crime scene, letting all manner of people handle critical physical evidence which was then contaminated and should not have been permitted to factor into the case. As it turns out, the judge to hear the initial trial was not inclined to eliminate the evidence and so it played a role in convicting Knox and Sollecito of Kercher's murder.</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The defence appealed and were able to obtain an independent forensic analysis of the evidence which determined several critical points:</div><ol style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><li>The knife which was said to be the murder weapon did not match the wounds on the body. The knife was big, the wounds were small - doh!</li>
<li>The DNA evidence on Kercher's bra clasp which was critical to the prosecutor's case (placing Sollecito at the crime scene) was too insignificant to be positive. The clasp had also been handled by several police men and was therefore contaminated.</li>
<li>The Knox DNA evidence on the handle of the knife was determined to be inconclusive in proving that Knox had used the knife to murder Kercher.</li>
</ol><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Without that evidence, the case was as leaky as a paper boat in a thunderstorm and the judge had no alternative but to reverse the conviction. There was reasonable doubt, and plenty of it.<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so the pair were sprung. Proof yet again that securing a crime scene is <i>the most important part</i> of ANY murder investigation. If you think back to the OJ trial, this is the critical aspect that lead to his acquittal - poor DNA evidence collection by the attending detectives.</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Actually its usually the first responders who are typically at fault. The hapless patrol cops, arriving on the scene, go blundering through the joint, stepping all over vital evidence that could lead to a successful conclusion to the case. Following proper procedure of securing the scene, allowing NO-ONE to enter it, and maintaining that vital perimeter until forensic analysts arrive is the most crucial step towards finding the perpetrators and ultimately securing a conviction. The latter being the nut of it. Its all very well to find and arrest a killer (no easy thing) but that's just the beginning of it. You then have to try the perp in court.<br />
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A jury or judge has to be <i>convinced</i> of their guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. And nothing convinces like physical evidence. With the 'CSI factor' very much in play, juries WANT physical evidence. Everything else can be attacked - eyewitness testimony, circumstantial evidence, character, motive - all of it can be tested and found wanting. But physical evidence is irrefutable, IF it has been collected and processed properly. A single hair can send a man to the gas chamber. Less than that even. A few tiny pods of pollen have been enough to convict a murderer. Its importance in a successful prosecution cannot be overstated.</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Otherwise you can end up with a scenario where the guilty go free, and the innocent are jailed for crimes they did not commit.</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do I think Knox and Sollecito were innocent? One never knows for sure. The whole thing is hinky. They had means and opportunity sure, but they lacked that final critical part of the three-legged stool - motive. The prosecutor tried to manufacture a motive - they were high on drugs and caught up in a sex-fuelled frenzy - but that just rang hollow. They murdered the girl because she wouldnt join their orgy? Knox despised Kercher and wanted her dead from revenge? It all seemed too bizarre and fantastic. Either that, or Amanda Knox is a brilliant actor.</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In any event, the case was botched by the cops and the prosecution's case was shaky from the start. They got lucky with a biased judge and together with the hostile and conservative Eye-talian media, it was enough to get the initial conviction against the pair. But as it turned out, it was a house of cards that didn't stand up to rigorous scrutiny.</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While the Eye-talian justice system has been hauled over the coals for a supposed miscarriage of justice, the pair of young perps can count themselves lucky. The appeal court did the right thing and sprung them based on the independent report. Another country might well have tried to save face and embarrassment by upholding the conviction. If I were Amanda and Rafael, I would be sending that judge a bottle of the finest Irish whiskey every Christmas for the rest of my days.</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Naturally, the cult of celebrity has now turned Amanda into a household name. Her fresh-faced good looks are more than enough to create a little mini-industry of interest in her story. A whole batch of books have already been written about the case, movies are in the works (Haydn Pannatierre is set to play her). The whole circus is in full swing... ain't it grand!</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
In the meantime Foxy is home in Seattle, and trying to get back to a 'normal' life. Undoubtedly, she will wake up in a cold sweat from nightmares for many nights to come, imagining she is back in that dank Eye-talian jail... possibly she will always dream in Italian from now on... </div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My advice to her? Stay home. Travelling - it ain't all it's cracked up to be. </div><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</div>Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-62405885980968344532011-06-04T04:58:00.000-07:002011-06-07T01:57:05.189-07:00Neglected Masterpiece Series: UNBREAKABLE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SAJqxEj3A90/TepLb6XeZKI/AAAAAAAAAQk/Wmk69K754gA/s1600/Elijah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o0-Cp0fU07U/TepL8ZkxU_I/AAAAAAAAAQw/cQf6q52gNbQ/s1600/unbreakable.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UK69QHrhgKQ/TepM8KhXeLI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/p9cTjiQ56b4/s1600/unbreakable.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UK69QHrhgKQ/TepM8KhXeLI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/p9cTjiQ56b4/s640/unbreakable.jpg" width="427" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Every once in a while a movie comes along that, for me, achieves perfection. More often than not these are not commercial or even critical successes. Many find their audiences later in life and become cult hits. <i><b>Fight Club</b></i> and <i><b>Blade Runner</b></i> are two well known examples. But often they simply languish in relative obscurity. I would like to shine a light on these movies simply because I think they deserve it. Why they weren't hugely successful upon release is beyond me. To my mind they are masterpieces, both in their originality and execution.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'd like to start with a film that blew me away when I saw it - M Night Shyamalan's <i><b>Unbreakable</b></i> - which nobody else seemed to like that much. In any event I very rarely see it mentioned when people discuss their favourite films. No doubt it suffered in being compared to the director's debut, <i><b>Sixth Sense</b></i>, a runaway success. That's a pretty good little movie in its own right, but I think <i><b>Unbreakable</b></i> is even better. And here's why...</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Everyone knows that Hollywood has spent the last few years plundering the back catalogue of legendary comics labels Marvel and DC for inspiration and that, broadly speaking, the results have been woefully bad. <i><b>Spiderman</b></i> was terrible and I don't even want to discuss <i><b>The Incredible Hulk</b></i>, probably the worst movie disaster since <i><b>The Postman</b></i>. For me, the only one that is worth a damn is the <i><b>Hellboy</b></i> franchise and of course <i><b>Road to Perdition</b></i>, which started life as a graphic novel.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TvGLUdUobm0/TepLoGzLhTI/AAAAAAAAAQo/vlavH9BBNmo/s1600/unbreakablenight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TvGLUdUobm0/TepLoGzLhTI/AAAAAAAAAQo/vlavH9BBNmo/s400/unbreakablenight.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bruce Willis as David Dunn, reluctant hero</td></tr>
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</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But the best comic-turned-movie for me is still <i><b>Unbreakable</b></i>. Shmayalan really did a superb job in capturing the <i>feel</i> of a comic book. And most remarkably he did it with barely any special effects at all. To me the genius of <i><b>Unbreakable</b></i> is that it imbues the most important elements of the classic comic books - the downbeat hero and the tortured villian - with foibles and weaknesses that are all too human. The real achievement of the classic Marvel titles such as <i><b>Spiderman</b></i> and <i><b>The Incredible Hulk</b></i> (in particular) was that these guys were really outcasts in society, caught in a twilight zone of secrecy and isolation due to their super powers. They could never fit in and be normal because they were <i>different</i>. And that was not a source of joy to them but a source of pain and unhappiness.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hollywood pretty much failed miserably to capture that in most of its efforts to render the comic book classics on the big screen, but Shyamalan manages it magnificently, taking the extremely ordinary character of David Dunn (note the alliteration, a common theme with comic book characters). When Dunn, a security guard at a baseball stadium, is the sole survivor of a catastrophic train crash, he thinks he's just very lucky, until he realises that in fact he cannot be killed and possesses superhuman strength. This would normally cue noisy celebrations and drinking through the night but Dunn immediately senses that his new powers are potentially as much of a curse as they are a boon.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SAJqxEj3A90/TepLb6XeZKI/AAAAAAAAAQk/Wmk69K754gA/s1600/Elijah.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="255" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SAJqxEj3A90/TepLb6XeZKI/AAAAAAAAAQk/Wmk69K754gA/s400/Elijah.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Samuel L Jackson as Elijah Price: 'They call me Mr Glass'</td></tr>
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</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The movie was criticised on its release for being too slow and drawn out. But it is precisely this pacing that gives <i><b>Unbreakable</b></i> its power. One has the time to savour each frame and camera movement, and the framing is remarkably remniscent of comic book panels, a nice touch. There is none of the frenetic editing and hyper-active camera movement that turns most of these superhero sagas into a headache-inducing carnival ride where you just keep wishing the thing would stop so you could get off.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Perhaps the greatest achievement of the movie is its villain, played in extremely fine style by Samuel Jackson. Cursed from birth by a disease that makes his bones as brittle as a breadstick, Elijah Price is the most flamboyent character in the movie, and the one that most closely resembles an actual comic book character (blessedly, Dunn is never forced to wear a suit other than his security guard uniform, a nice subtle metaphor).</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o0-Cp0fU07U/TepL8ZkxU_I/AAAAAAAAAQw/cQf6q52gNbQ/s1600/unbreakable.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="255" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o0-Cp0fU07U/TepL8ZkxU_I/AAAAAAAAAQw/cQf6q52gNbQ/s400/unbreakable.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hero and villain, destinies entwined</td></tr>
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</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">With his purple outfit, glass cane and styled 'fro, Elijah looks like the bassist in a 70s funk band, but Jackson yields to none of the OTT stylings that make other superhero movie villians so ludicrous. Instead he earns our sympathy, which is what characterised the all best villians from the Marvel classics (perhaps best represented by <i><b>Swamp Thing</b></i>, which, hopefully, will never be given the Hollywood 'treatment'.)</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Jackson is the one that drives Dunn to accept his role as the superhero, an interesting twist, and it is not Elijah who Dunn is finally driven to defeat in a brilliant heart-stopping action sequence, but a serial rapist, a genuine taken from life creep with an all-too-real talent for escaping the attention of authorities.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Dunn has a weakness which he is not aware of - his powers are sapped when he is submerged in water. Shyamalan brilliantly utilises this to ratchet up the tension during the climatic clash between good and evil. In the end, it is that suburban staple, the swimming pool, which almost proves to be Dunn's undoing as he finally embraces his destiny and becomes the hero he is meant to be.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Sounds corny as hell, but it works and works brilliantly. Thanks to the downbeat pacing, superb characterisations from Willis and Jackson, and the beautifully subtle camera work, <i><b>Unbreakable</b></i> is a movie of quiet power, a haunting tribute to the great comic book heroes of the 70s that infested the imaginations of millions of children around the world and continue to garner new audiences to this day.</div>Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-3650583471372968452011-04-19T04:29:00.000-07:002011-05-09T11:34:29.083-07:00Interview with MyselfYesterday Amazon informed me that my first novel, <i><b>Malone</b></i>, had been accepted for publication as a Kindle book. The book has also been published (by me) on Lulu.com. These days it's practically impossible to get a book published if you are new author, but thanks to the Interwebz it's amazingly easy to self-publish. In any event, it's early days yet, so the press isn't exactly beating a path to my door, but I thought it would be fun to publish an interview with myself about the book. Besides this blog has been way too movie heavy lately, so it's about due for some literary action for a change...<br />
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This is what the book cover looks like (and no, I don't have another picture):<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L7744ZNBY8c/Ta1mLHvjzZI/AAAAAAAAAQU/qY4NaG7fG-c/s1600/MALONE+FULL+COVER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L7744ZNBY8c/Ta1mLHvjzZI/AAAAAAAAAQU/qY4NaG7fG-c/s400/MALONE+FULL+COVER.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The cover was designed by my brother Sean. Yes, it is very useful having a relative who is a graphic designer. Anyway, let's get started...</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">Q: So your book is published and available on Amazon.com. Are you excited?</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">A: Yes, it's tremendously exciting. I wish I'd done it a lot sooner. It's a weird feeling seeing your own name on Amazon.com, a site I have visited probably thousands of times. And spent thousands of rands on...</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">Q: The book is called </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Malone</i></span></b><b><span style="font-size: small;">. Why this title?</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">A: Titles are very hard to be honest. I wanted a single word title and I thought it sounded cool. Obviously it's the name of the main character. Also <i><b>Malone</b></i> is kind of two words combined: Man Alone, which is very much the central theme of the book. One man alone, trying to make his way in the world. Later, I realised that Malone was very similar to Marlowe. That wasn't intentional. I owe Raymond Chandler a huge debt of gratitude, he was a major influence on me, but I wasn't trying to steal his most famous character's name.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">Q: Why did you write a detective story? Isn't this genre really over-worked now, to the point of cliche?</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">A: Yes, it is. But the books that influenced me most profoundly when I was younger were detective stories. I love the genre and wanted to write a homage to it, but one that reflected more modern attitudes. I felt that despite the brilliance of Chandler's writing, his character Philip Marlowe was a bit too straight laced, too certain in his views and actions. I wanted to create a character who is a lot more human, filled with weakness and doubts, a more ambiguous character.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">Q: Apart from Raymond Chandler, who else influenced you? </span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">A: Well, Ellroy obviously. Sam Peckinpah. Cormac McCarthy. Jim Thompson. Charles Bukowksi. A bunch of people. The book is basically a huge amalgam of all my influences. I wanted to put them all in the first book so hopefully the second one would be more original. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Q: Was it difficult writing about places you've never been to?</b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">A: Yes, very... I did some research but mostly I just winged it. I don't have Ellroy's resources. I wanted the book to capture the mood of a time and a place, not be a travelogue. It's an impressionist painting, not a documentary photograph. </span><br />
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<b>Q: Why did you set it after World War II? Why not something more contemporary? </b><br />
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A: As I said, I love that time in history from a literary point of view. Post World War II, the world was an exciting place to be, like awakening from a 5 year nightmare to a fresh new dawn. I also wanted it to be about this man who has fought in the war, experienced many terrible things, and now has to re-integrate himself back into society but he can't escape the violence, and finds himself fighting another war. I am very interested in the second world war. It was an incredible period in human history. The men and women who fought in it are often referred to as 'the greatest generation' because of the sacrifices they made to rid the world of the greatest evil it has ever known. It never ceases to fascinate me...<br />
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<b>Q: But the book seems quite flippant and even disrespectful towards these men. Your characters are not that likeable even.</b><br />
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A: I wanted them to be real people, not cariciatures. Most of those soldiers were barely out of their teens. They were young and immature. They hardly knew what they wanted out of life. And yet they had to perform acts that required enormous courage and fortitude. But they were human, warts and all. I wanted to show them that way... <br />
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<b>Q: What about the women in the book? Was Gloria van Doren a whore?</b><br />
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A: She was a woman forced by circumstances to make some tough decisions. I think in those days it was very tough for women who didn't take the easy route and become housewives. Especially if they wanted to forge a career in the movies or whatever. They could easily become victims. I wanted to show that Gloria wasn't a push-over. She was strong. She held out, but eventually she gave in. She was so beautiful and desirable that every man wanted her, even men who should have protected her. She was born with a gift of beauty that should have given her a gilded life, but instead it became her downfall. The relationship with Gomez wasn't submissive though. She had as much power in it as he did, if not more. She's a strong woman. I hope that comes through clearly enough. <br />
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<b>Q: The book is quite short.... did you run out of ideas?</b><br />
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A: Haha.... it felt long to me! I wanted it to be a pacy read. I feel people today dont really have time to read long books, and most books are over-long anyway. I wanted it to be punchy. Get in, get out. The books from those days were never long. People read two a week! But I still wanted it to have substance.<br />
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<b>Q: Well, thanks for talking to us, and good luck! </b><br />
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A: Thank you.<br />
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And there it is. Malone is available to order from the following places:<br />
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http://www.lulu.com/product/ebook/malone/15468320Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-40297812812942037702011-03-11T05:43:00.000-08:002011-05-28T04:38:09.324-07:00CHRISTIAN BALE - Blowing up in a cinema near you!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mupQJwWAN4s/TXpdIpbAxFI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/53PdsqVwNbw/s1600/christian_bale_american_psycho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mupQJwWAN4s/TXpdIpbAxFI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/53PdsqVwNbw/s400/christian_bale_american_psycho.jpg" width="310" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christian in <i>American Pyscho</i> - bloody intense mate</td></tr>
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I didn't manage to sit through the <i>entire</i> 83rd Academy Awards but I did watch long enough to see both Melissa Leo and Christian Bale win awards for their appearances in <b>The Fighter</b>. [Quick aside: I was extremely pleased to see Melissa Leo up there. Many years ago she had a part in a brilliant TV drama called <b>Homicide Life on the Street</b>. It was distinguished by some of the best TV writing ever, and accordingly the show was filled with memorable characters. Even among such superb character actors as Andre Braugher, Yaphet Kotto, Clark Johnson, Jon Polito and Kyle Secor, Leo's character of Sgt Kay Howard stood out. With her crumpled face and wild red hair and man suits she had zero sex appeal and didn't rely on anything but her acting chops to carry the part. She totally inhabited the role of Kay Howard. In a world where fully realised female characters are even scarcer in cinema than on TV, Melissa blazed a wide trail. Many years later she emerged from obscurity with a starring role in a little indie movie called <b>Frozen River</b>. It proved to be something of a sleeper hit and her bravura performance as a working class trailer park mom forced to make some tough decisions garnered her a lot of attention. No doubt it had a lot to do with her being cast as the tough working class Mom in <b>The Fighter</b>. And <i>badda bing badda boom</i>, whaddaya know, she now has a shiny new ornament for her display cabinet. Well deserved! It was good to see her finally emerge from the shadows and get some Respect. You go girl... woman.... whatever.]<br />
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However, the real surprise of the evening was Christian Bale. Not that he won, which he no doubt deserved to do. but that this was the first time he'd won anything from the Academy! Or had even been nominated!! I was, like, <i>WTF</i>? Are these people in the Academy a bit slow? Do they live under a rock? Have they not seen <b>The Prestige</b>? <b>Rescue Dawn</b>? <b>Harsh Times</b>?<b> American Pyscho</b>? <b>The Machinist</b>??? (OK, fair cop, I havent seen that one either, but still...). Where had they been these last few years? <br />
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It's common knowledge that Bale is <i>the</i> dude to watch these days. The comparisons with 'Robert De Niro' are inevitable, particularly as he has a penchant for transforming himself physically in order to get deeper into the role, ie, he is a <i>method actor</i> in the same vein as the mighty Bobby D. So to help out the half-witted panel at the Academy, let's do a quick review of the films for which Bale should have been given <i>something</i> at Oscar time - even if it was just a nomination!<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M7oMU22rISY/TXoW0nAOVCI/AAAAAAAAAP8/Q_hVe4XzB1c/s1600/harsh_times_xlg.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M7oMU22rISY/TXoW0nAOVCI/AAAAAAAAAP8/Q_hVe4XzB1c/s400/harsh_times_xlg.jpg" width="270" /></a><b>Harsh Times (2005)</b><br />
<b>Director: David Ayer</b><br />
<b>Writer: David Ayer </b><br />
<b>Players: Christian Bale, Freddy Rodriguez, Eva Longoria</b> <br />
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OK watching this movie feels like the guy in <b>The Fighter</b> must've felt after Mark Wahlberg knocked him out with a <i>kidney</i> shot. You're not sure if you want to throw up or if you'll ever be able to pee right again (explained later). It's one of those little movies that just comes out of nowhere and leaves everyone feeling a bit puzzled and uneasy. People can't categorise it, and therefore it's hard to market, you can't easily label it 'drama' or 'action' or 'horror' and let it find its market. Because it's drama and horror and action all rolled into one. It's a balls to the wall, pulls-no-punches, out-and-out indie picture with massive, hairy <i>cojones</i> that makes its audience uncomfortable and squeamish and a little sick to the stomach. These things don't bode well for the 'business' end of the business. In other words they dont translate into good box office results, but they do for damn sure make for interesting viewing. <br />
<br />
Front and centre in the movie is the craziest, most loosey-goosey, off-the-wall, fall-down-funny, adrenaline-fuelled performance I've seen since the aforementioned Bobby D in <b>Mean Streets</b> (with a healthy dose of Gary Oldman in <b>State of Grace</b> thrown in for good measure). Bale plays Jim Davis, who has recently come out of the elite Army Rangers unit where he has undoubtedly seen some pretty hairy shit in Iraq. Although Davis <i>looks</i> like a squared-away Roger Ramjet soldier type with good prospects of advancement through the ranks of society (he's on a mission to get a job with the LAPD) its not long before it becomes apparent that he is more than a little <i>ipso facto</i> completely freaking nutso. <br />
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It would appear that Davis is suffering from severe PTSD but not in a passive away. Rather he is a one man demolition squad, looking to rip it up at every opportunity, even if that means committing some serious felonies that you would imagine a future cop would prefer to avoid. He's also not averse to roping in his ex-army buddy Mike (Freddy Rodriguez) and dragging him down right along with him. <br />
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Davis is the very definition of a loose cannon, and you know its not going to be long before he hurts someone. But at the same time you can't help but root for the guy, and this is where the genius of Bale's performance really manifests itself. Even though Davis is a major league self-centered jerk, who pretends to care deeply about his friends but really only gives a crap about himself, you can't help but like the guy. He's ridiculously charming and persuasive and Mike (and the audience) is helpless putty in his hands, even after he makes one bone-headed decision after another.<br />
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It would seem from my description that <b>Harsh Times</b> is not a fun movie, and indeed there are several moments where you wince and the ending is as downbeat as it gets, but what redeems it from being a total downer is that Bale is also extremely funny. There is a scene where in order to rig his urine test for his LAPD entrance exam he has to insert a catheter up his urinary tract, without anaesthetic. Sounds pretty terrible right? But its as funny as hell. The dude is crazeeee in a very dark but still likeable way. I guess we all knew someone like Jim Davis growing up. The lunatic who was a little scary but a lot of fun to be with. They either grow up and get their shit together (usually with a woman's help) or they go off the deep end. Although Jim Davis has the woman, he doesn't seem able to save himself. In one of the movies most gut-wrenching scenes he even pulls a gun on her in order to frighten her off. He's on a downward spiral and not even his best friend can pull him out of it.<br />
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The movie was not a popular hit on its release, no surprise there. Although it wasn't lumped in with other 'war movies' like <b>In the Valley of Elah</b> and <b>Stop-Loss</b> (and more recently <b>Brothers</b> with Tobey Maguire and Jake Gylenhaall, it was), like those movies, very much about what war does to the people. Many soldiers return from conflict unable to re-integrate back to society and worse than that. Its a difficult, uncomfortable scenario and the army certainly doesn't like to admit to any of it. Given that the war itself is still an ongoing event and that anything less than total support for the troops (if not the war effort itself) is seen as an unpatriotic, moves like <b>Harsh Times</b> can be a little too close to the bone. Be that as it may, its still a brilliant assessment of what happens when you train a person to kill, to commit extreme acts of violence, and then expect them to be able to put all that in a box, lock it away and function normally like nothing ever happened.<br />
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-jp7jZmD1PP4/TXoY1jEfBZI/AAAAAAAAAQE/r4yWcyA-sTM/s1600/prestige_xlg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-jp7jZmD1PP4/TXoY1jEfBZI/AAAAAAAAAQE/r4yWcyA-sTM/s400/prestige_xlg.jpg" width="267" /></a></div><b>The Prestige</b> (2006)<br />
<b>Director</b>: Christopher Nolan<br />
<b>Writers:</b> Jonathan Nolan, Christopher Nolan<br />
<b>Players</b>: Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, Michael Caine, Scarlet Johanssen, Rebecca Hall, Michael Caine <br />
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Easily one of my favourite movies of the last decade, <b>The Prestige</b> is a return to the glory days of movie making. It's got everything. Suspense, intrigue, mystery, glamour, great writing and acting, awesome actors, costumes, David Bowie, the works... and it's all about Magic. Yeah, that old hokum. Its pretty hard to make a movie about magic intriguing in this day and age, but Christopher Nolan is up to it. Nolan is the guy who made <b>Memento</b> back in the day, a low budget nothing movie using then little known Aussie actor Guy Pearce and US character actor Joe 'Pants' Pantoliano. <b>Memento</b> was smart, quite devilishly clever in fact, and caused a bit of a stir no mistake. It got Nolan on the fast track to Hollywood and he hasnt disappointed. OK he made a Batman movie but most people seem to think it was one of the best. Anyhoo, when he's not doing superhero movies Nolan likes to do stuff like <b>The Prestige</b> and <b>Inception</b>, so we'll forgive him the guy in a funny suit lapse. <b>The Prestige</b> is vintage Nolan. 'Now you see it, now you don't' territory. He's a great sleight of hand artist Mr Nolan is so, of course, the subject of illusion would appeal to him. <b>The Prestige</b> is set in turn of the century England when people took stuff like this really seriously. There were no movies back then so people went to the theater, dah-ling. The upper crust went to see proper plays and stuff and the riff-raff went to see illusionists. People who sawed ladies in half sort of thing. Where Nolan succeeds is that it never looks tacky or seedy. As much as the audience in the movie is taken in by what they are watching so are we. Much of this has to do with the tricky dicky plot and the superb performances of the leads, noticeably our man Bale (although Jackman is equally good, although his <i>is</i> the flashier part, with more gnashing of the teeth and the like).<br />
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Where Bale really 'brings it' is that his performance is the polar opposite of the fireworks of <b>Harsh Times</b>. Its all low key and under the radar. His working class Alfred Borden is a man so wrapped up in his great and terrible secret he can't share anything with anyone, even his wife. Its a very tricky role to play and Bale does it masterfully, for once being able to play a role in something close to his native accent. In fact it is the sheer Britishness of the movie which helps to sell it. The period detail and costumes all help to create a world that is in itself magical. A world before electricity, when all things were possible. Like the great chameleon that he is, Bale occupies this world completely and once again makes you care deeply for the fate of his character, who is unjustly imprisoned and sentenced to die when the secret he harbours turns his great rival Angier into a madman bent on revenge. It's a deeply touching performance, one that turns on the theme of sacrifice, where a man will literally give up everything to stay at the top of his profession.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-fWJgMsESBs0/TXpJxaAFQOI/AAAAAAAAAQI/GoJpbbaNRCI/s1600/rescue_dawn_ver3_xlg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-fWJgMsESBs0/TXpJxaAFQOI/AAAAAAAAAQI/GoJpbbaNRCI/s400/rescue_dawn_ver3_xlg.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><br />
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<b>Rescue Dawn</b> (2006)<br />
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<b>Director</b>: Werner Herzog<br />
<b>Writer:</b> Werner Herzog<br />
<b>Players</b>: Christian Bale, Steve Zahn, Jeremy Davies<br />
<br />
For his next outing Bale chose to work with Werner Herzog, the well known German director who has a penchant for stories about men who go crazy in the jungle. In this case, the story (a true one) focuses on a chap called Dieter Dengler who was shot down in the jungles of Vietnam while on a bombing mission in Laos. He survives the crash and is captured by the NVA. Of course, the NVA weren't known for treating their prisoners too kindly and Dengler, along with a few other bods who have already checked into this downmarket version of the Hanoi Hilton, are subsequently brutalised to the point of total submission and even craziness. The cast is phenomenal and one of the pleasures of the film is seeing comedic actor Steve Zahn produce a truly powerful portrayal as one of Dengler's fellow prisoners.<br />
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While Bale's role in <b>Rescue Dawn</b> is not quite as complex as that of Jim Davis in <b>Harsh Times </b>and the movie is not a full-blown classic like <b>The Prestige</b>, its got plenty to hold the attention, and most of the substance is delivered by this trio of fine actors who portray the process of physical and mental degradation suffered by prisoners of war so accurately its frightening. To add to the authenticity, Bale does one of his now-famous shrinking acts and sheds several pounds during the course of the film. Davies, not exactly a buff physical specimen at the best of times, is also skeletal in the film. These actors are truly committed to delivering total authenticity and in the hands of Werner Herzog, a man famous for driving his cast and crew to extremes, nothing less would suffice. In the end <b>Rescue Dawn</b> is a very moving account of one man's refusal to give up despite the worst possible odds. Herzog does a great job of delivering the day to day routine and crushing boredom of the men's lives in the camp without making the film feel like its a 100 years long. You can't help but shed a tear at the final denouement. Stories like this simply never get tired...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UfG6K-sixEI/TXpa3NeMtUI/AAAAAAAAAQM/Rfu2mBu0vX4/s1600/american_psycho_ver2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UfG6K-sixEI/TXpa3NeMtUI/AAAAAAAAAQM/Rfu2mBu0vX4/s400/american_psycho_ver2.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><b>American Pyscho</b> (2000)<br />
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<b>Director:</b> Mary Harron<br />
<b>Writer:</b> Mary Harron<br />
<b>Players:</b> Chistian Bale, Justin Theroux, Josh Lucas, Chloe Sevigny<br />
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Based on the infamous novel by Bret Easton Ellis, AP is a brilliant satire on the true horror of being a yuppie in New York in the heady days of the 80s real estate boom. The darkest of black comedies, it follows the descent into full blown madness of the perfectly groomed and attired Patrick Bateman, who is the ultimate hollow man. Bateman is the opposite of the stereotypical serial killer, successful, socially adept, physically perfect and very good with the ladies. However, that doesn't hide the fact that he has a sucking black hole where his soul is meant to be, and finds it impossible to resist murdering the girls who get drawn into his irresistable web of charm. Usually with a chainsaw.<br />
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Despite its premise AP is as funny as it is bizarre and the thick streak of black humour that runs through the film is beautifully handled by the director and Bale. Probably one of the funniest scenes in the history of cinema involves a table full of detestable yuppie scum all comparing business cards in an attempt to outdo one another. Its screamingly funny, and probably too close to the actual truth for comfort. Another classic involves Bateman reeling off the reasons he is the world's biggest Phil Collins fan while he lays down thick plastic sheeting in his spotless apartment in order not to make a mess while he slaughters another hapless victim. With his trademark blend of intensity and take-no-prisoners immersion in the role, Bale makes an indelible mark as the 'hero' who is way too tightly wrapped to handle the pressures of climbing the corporate ladder while the sharks circle beneath. The supporting cast is equally stellar, with a superb Willem Dafoe delivering another note perfect turn as the detective who knows Bateman is rotten but can't prove it. Chloe Sevigny is at her doe-eyed best as Bateman's hapless secretary.<br />
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While some say the movie can't match the book (big surprise) I didnt feel an immediate need to rush out and read the book after seeing the movie. I totally got Easton Ellis' message - listening to too much crap 80s music will drive you insane.Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-78235953425350857672010-11-11T03:37:00.000-08:002010-11-12T00:44:28.148-08:00In Praise of BURT REYNOLDS<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TNvNWdXneKI/AAAAAAAAAPU/PYHw1N-lwI4/s1600/Bandit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TNvNWdXneKI/AAAAAAAAAPU/PYHw1N-lwI4/s400/Bandit.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Burt as the Bandit, with mustache</span></b></td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">It's</span></b> no secret I dig movies from the 70s but strangely enough I haven't ever spoken about Burt Reynolds. A major oversight many of you would say. Others might say I've lost my cotton-picking mind or finally come out of the closet. No doubt about it Burt is a polarising figure. He's practically a parody of the hairy-chested 70s stud, a role he's been happy to play on more than one occasion, even doing a centerfold for Cosmo magazine. In fact there was a time when Burt <i><b>was</b></i> the 70s</span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">. He was omnipresent and omnipotent all at the same time. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Some of that had to do with his incredibly successful series of <i><b>Smokey and the Bandit</b></i>, which made bundles of dough in practically every movie outlet on the planet. For us shorties back in the day, when we had to rent a reel on a Friday night, it was either Burt and his Pontiac or Clint's <b><i>Every Which Way </i></b>franchise, or something by <i><b>Bruce Lee</b></i>...... nothing else even came close.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TNvLtTHusUI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/F8nFlODJ9IY/s1600/burtreynolds.gif" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TNvLtTHusUI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/F8nFlODJ9IY/s400/burtreynolds.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Burt in his breakthrough role as Lewis Medlock</b></td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But Burt was more than just a </span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">comedic figure with incredible facial hair, the dude had serious acting chops. I'm talking about <b><i>Deliverance</i></b> of course, the movie that blew a lot of people out of the water. People who had <i>no idea</i> that Burt could <i>bring it</i> when he was given material worthy of his abilities.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Burt's role of outdoor fanatic and general he-man Lewis Medlock was a touchstone role for the actor. In many ways it defined the 70s man and created a blueprint for the tough guy role that so many in the 80s would attempt to emulate. The great thing about it is that the movie turns this stereotype on its head when Lewis breaks his leg and becomes as helpless as his city slicker buddies who look to him to save their lillywhite asses from the rampaging hill-billies.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TNvWdE_27EI/AAAAAAAAAPY/4foJyNxrECk/s1600/deliverance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TNvWdE_27EI/AAAAAAAAAPY/4foJyNxrECk/s640/deliverance.jpg" width="416" /></a></td></tr>
<tr style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Original poster for Deliverance</b></td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As it turns out it is fellow 70s icon Jon Voight who gets to play hero and pull the group out of the very tricky situation they have landed themselves in. The movie is based on the equally powerful book by James Dickey, for many years America's poet laureate. Dickey wanted to show what it means when the trappings and niceties of civilised society are ripped away and man is pushed to extremes. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So what is meant to be a pleasant weekend of enjoying nature's beauty for a group of friends gets turned into a nightmare of epic proportions, when the group are confronted by a duo of backwoods in-breeds who clearly have taken their relationship with their livestock to a whole new level. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><i>Deliverance</i></b> is also interesting because its a movie about the vanishing wilderness, and man's dwindling respect for his natural heritage. Lewis persuades his friends to undertake the canoe trip because the river is going to be dammed and he wants them to experience it in its true glory before the dam reduces it to a mere shadow of its former self.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Lewis was indeed a curious anomaly for the time. An ultra-macho bowhunter who really gave a crap about the environment. Something of this dichotomy can be found in James Dickey himself, a hard-drinking womaniser who wrote ultra-violent books like <i><b>Deliverance</b></i> and <i><b>To the White Sea</b></i> but was also a celebrated poet. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TNvXA1j_MfI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VKdzhv_II4w/s1600/Burt_Reynolds_and_Ronny_Cox_in_Deliverance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TNvXA1j_MfI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VKdzhv_II4w/s1600/Burt_Reynolds_and_Ronny_Cox_in_Deliverance.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Burt and co-star Ronny Cox on the set</b></td></tr>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Burt's role in <i><b>Deliverance</b></i> was a tremendous breakthrough for the young actor. After Deliverance was nominated for 3 Oscars his future was pretty much set. Unfortunately the material that he chose after that would never quite rise to the level of his breakthrough performance. It would appear that Burt chose popularity and box office appeal over critical approval, and while we cannot blame him for that, perhaps that legendary moustache should take some of the blame. After he sprouted it, it was a lot more difficult to take him seriously. </span><br />
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</a>Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-81670131397005808652010-10-30T09:40:00.000-07:002010-11-05T04:03:43.920-07:00JOHN CARPENTER - KING OF THE B's<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TM0FGZw9jAI/AAAAAAAAAPM/eIog0xsTbLg/s1600/jc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TM0FGZw9jAI/AAAAAAAAAPM/eIog0xsTbLg/s320/jc.jpg" width="288" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TMwrOE-tknI/AAAAAAAAAPE/WH0Ngv_PAPw/s1600/escape_from_new_york_ver2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>John Carpenter: creeping people out since 1976</b></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>It's </b><span style="font-size: small;">October</span></span>, the month of Halloween of course, so naturally I figured who better to feature than John Carpenter, the B movie maestro? Whether or not Carpenter should be relegated to second tier status could be the subject of an endless debate among film geeks. He's not considered a <i>serious</i> film-maker in the same vein as some po-faced European <i>artiste</i> like Lars Von Trier or Michael Haneke but the guy has made some truly memorable movies and influenced a ton of aspiring film makers. <i><b>Halloween</b></i>, the original slasher flick, has spawned so many sequels, remakes and imitators it's impossible to count them all. And yet the film itself is remarkably simple, features hardly any blood or gore and seems almost quaint compared to what passes for 'horror' today. (In fact, most of his movies are pretty tame in the blood and gore stakes.) And yet they endure.... perhaps because Carpenter has the magic touch when it came to story telling. He just keeps the story moving along, no stopping to dilly dally along the way. Keep it lean and mean and let the action tell the story. And it's precisely by vitue of that simplicity and discipline and a huge dollop of serious craftsmanship that he has managed to create unforgettable classics in the three most popular genres of Action, Sci-Fi and Horror. And at the same time he has entertained the hell out of his audiences. How many other directors can lay claim to that?</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TLtFH2B5AhI/AAAAAAAAAO0/PbX1XARbzAQ/s1600/halloween_xlg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TLtFH2B5AhI/AAAAAAAAAO0/PbX1XARbzAQ/s400/halloween_xlg.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Halloween (1978)</span></span></b></div></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Director</b>: John Carpenter</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Screenwriter</b>: John Carpenter</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>DOP</b>: Dean Cundey</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Players</b>: Jamie Lee Curtis, Donald Pleasance, PJ Soles, Kyle Richards</span><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of my most vivid memories as a kid is being told I wasn't allowed to watch Halloween under any circumstances. This was very upsetting to me. There was quite a buzz around this film. It upset a lot of people. Apparently, it was some real heavy shit. All of which was irresistable for a young kid. Watching it would no doubt be a life-changing experience. But the lockdown on cinemas was pretty tight in those days and I had no way of breaching the walls to gain access to this cultural phenomenon. Movie age restrictions </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">were strictly enforced</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> back then (the maximum 2 - 21 was imposed for Halloween and I was a long way from 21 in 1978) </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">and there was no such thing as video, DVD or satellite television. So it was the cinema or nothing. In any event, I didnt get to see this film until MANY years later - for some reason the original is hard to find in DVD rental stores - so I finally just bought a copy. Suffice to say I was a little dumbfounded as to what all the fuss was about (a LOT has changed in horror movies since 1978) but on my second viewing I finally began to appreciate what Carpenter had achieved with Halloween, and why the movie has spawned so many imitators.The beauty of Halloween lies in its simplicity. The rest is atmosphere. From the moment the now famous score (composed by Carpenter, who wrote the music for most of his films) </span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">kicks in</span> </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> you know that nasty things are going to happen. Carpenter keeps the story tight, no messing around. Jamie Lee Curtis and Donald Pleasance do sterling work, as do the rest of the cast. The other force that comes into play with palpable effect is Dean Cundey's amazing camera work. Its nothing fancy, no trickery or whoop de doo but its never less than mesmerising. The POV effect is still gripping and probably influenced a lot of video game designers. The location just works a treat. It's a totally wholesome, whitebread small American town, and like the best work of Stephen King, that only makes what happens in it all the more shocking.</span></span><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TMG1ZfbAsTI/AAAAAAAAAO4/42DJUI5h4Sw/s1600/assault_on_precinct_thirteen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TMG1ZfbAsTI/AAAAAAAAAO4/42DJUI5h4Sw/s400/assault_on_precinct_thirteen.jpg" width="262" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Assault on Precinct 13 (1976)</span></span></b></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Director</b>: John Carpenter</span></span></div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Screenwriter</b>: John Carpenter</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Players</b>: Austin Stoker, Darwin Jonston, Laurie Zimmer, Martin West, Tony Burton, Charles Cyphers</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Carpenter brought his ability to do a lot with very little to another drive-in classic - <i><b>Assault on Precinct 13</b></i>. In it he used a plot device that he would return to with even more success in sci-fi classic <b><i>The Thing</i></b> - a group of disparate individuals trapped by circumstance with the pressure piling on as the minutes tick by. In this case, it's a soon to be abandoned police station on the outskirts of LA that becomes the target of a coordinated attack from a vicious street gang. The scumbags even have silenced revolvers! Carpenter ratchets up the tension as the gang, hell-bent on destruction, tries every which way to get into the building. The movie owes a huge debt to Howard Hawks' Rio Bravo and Carpenter freely admitted that he wanted to re-make it as an urban western. Naturally there has to be a hero, and in this case its Lt Ethan Bishop (Austin Stokes) who's been given the job of watching over the building and the few remaining people in it. His main charge is a prisoner named Napoleon played with sardonic wit by Darwin Jonston. The interplay between the two leads provides an amusing diversion from the tension, as the grimly silent gangbangers do their best to find a way in. Carpenter uses the desolate urban setting to maximum advantage and there are plenty of twists and turns to keep it interesting. A tidy little potboiler with plenty of laughs (some unintentional) and action to keep you interested... </span></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TMwrOE-tknI/AAAAAAAAAPE/WH0Ngv_PAPw/s1600/escape_from_new_york_ver2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TMwrOE-tknI/AAAAAAAAAPE/WH0Ngv_PAPw/s400/escape_from_new_york_ver2.jpg" width="260" /></a><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Escape from New York</b> (1981)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Director</b>: John Carpenter</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Screenwriter</b>: Nick Castle, John Carpenter</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Undoubtedly one of Carpenter's top two outings (along with <b><i>The Thing</i></b>) and starring his favourite lead dude, Kurt Russell, <i><b>Escape From NY</b></i> is one of the all-time B-movie classics. The plot set-up is fantastic, the characters brilliantly sketched and Snake is a truly wonderful creation that turned Kurt Russell from a little known B-movie character actor into a pretty well-known B-movie character actor. Hey, don't get down on Kurt, the guy can bring it when he needs to. Just check out 1997's <i><b>Breakdown</b></i>, for example, where he holds his own against the late - and very great - J.T. Walsh. In <i><b>Escape from New York</b></i> Kurt plays Snake Plissken, a bank robber who is given a free pass by government flunkeys if he agrees to break into NYC and rescue the US Prez, who's plane has 'gone down' into the city, which has been transformed into a maximum security prison. Well, I guess folks who live there now would say its not far off, but that's the subject for another discussion. So naturally Snake agrees but the catch is he gets this explosive device injected into his neck. Once false move and the device explodes, leaving Snake with a very bad headache and minus one head. So Snake gets into a glider plane and gets dropped into NYC and numerous adventures ensue. All the way through there is a very funny running joke about whether he is dead or alive and he gets to hook up with some pretty bizarre characters played by the likes of Lee Van Cleef, Ernest Borgnine and Harry Dean Stanton. For good measure, there's also a busty broad played by Adrienne Barbeau. It's all great fun and Kurt Russell plays it for yuks extremely well. Plus he has an eye patch so you know it's gonna be a winner right off the bat.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Director: </b>John Carpenter</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Screenwriter</b>: Bill Lancaster</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Cinematographer</b>: Dean Cundey</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Players</b>: Kurt Russell, Wilford Brimley, Keith David, Richard Dysart, Richard Masur, David Clennon, Thomas G Waites, Charles Hallahan</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">Carpenter's finest hour would be another remake of a movie from one of his favourite directors, Howard Hawks. <b><i>The Thing</i></b> also showed how effective he was at spotting talent. One of the crowning achievements of <i><b>The Thing</b></i> is its special effects, <i>none</i> of which were computer generated and which still stand up to scrutiny today. This was the work of both an established legend, Stan Winston, and a young 21-year-old kid called Rob Bottin, who practically lived on the set of <i><b>The Thing</b></i> for two years while he devised some of the most fantastic creature effects ever committed to screen. Bottin used some truly 'creative' methods to achieve the end result and one of the real highlights of the interviews that can be found on the Special Edition release of the DVD is hearing him recount how he pulled it off. The story of The Thing is classic Carpenter material. A bunch of dudes are stranded in a remote scientific research station in the Arctic circle while a very scary creature from outer space, which has the handy ability to imitate anything, decimates their numbers one by one. Kurt Russell plays MacReady, the base's helicopter pilot, who assumes a leadership role </span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">almost by default</span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> and attempts to outwit the creature, which always seems to be one step ahead of him, until the explosive finale. A great ensemble cast of B-players pretty much serve as cannon fodder as they get taken out in increasingly spectacular fashion. The atmospherics of the station are brilliantly realised, through canny use of the location and sets. It's a true classic that combines both paranoia and claustrophia in equal measure. Sits right up there with <i><b>Alien</b></i> (to which it owes no small debt) as one of the two great sci-fi classics of the 80s.<b> </b></span></span><br />
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</span></div>Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-87761329432401804052010-08-09T04:42:00.000-07:002010-11-12T00:43:58.682-08:00SEAN PENN - Bad Boy Made Good<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sean Penn</span> is one high energy dude. Not only does he pick up Oscars like some people catch colds, but he also finds the time to write and direct classic movies in between jetting around the globe to various disaster zones - natural and man made - to keep us mere mortals updated on the conditions there. </span></span>The guy is so talented (not to mention disgustingly good-looking) that he makes the rest of us look like one-cell organisms who've barely crossed the starting line of the evolutionary curve. But we'll try not to hold that against him and take comfort in the fact that he wasn't always this wonderful. He did marry Madonna, after all, among other rash and anti-social acts in his youth (although punching out papparazzi should have earned him a medal rather than a suspended sentence). But after winning a ludicrous number of awards for his acting and directing four very fine movies, not to mention the afore-mentioned charity aid work, it's safe to say that he's more than made up for it. For the purpose of this post, we're going to focus on his directing work, which in my opinion is growing in stature with each film. It's just a matter of time before he makes something that blows everyone else out of the water. In fact, with <i><b>Into The Wild</b></i> he's pretty much already there, although I feel his best work is yet to come. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, if we want to tell Mr Penn's story it's best to begin at the beginning...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TF_LQhfTeAI/AAAAAAAAAOI/xJhlIZmV1AE/s1600/indian_runner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TF_LQhfTeAI/AAAAAAAAAOI/xJhlIZmV1AE/s400/indian_runner.jpg" width="273" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><b>The Indian Runner (1991) </b></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
Penn's first film as a director was inspired by a Bruce Springsteen song - <i>Highway Patrolman</i> - one of many great tracks on the Boss' first solo album, <b><i>Nebraska</i></b>. Its about two brothers, one is a highway patrolman and the other is someone with considerably less self-control and a penchant for hard likker and violence. What the bad brother has done exactly is never made clear but Bruce lets us know that things are going from bad to worse and its going to be up to the cop brother to put a stop to things. This could involve violence, and it's a dead cert its going to take place on a long, lonely highway in a fast-moving vehicle, because most great Bruce songs involve these things. Here's a sample of the lyrics.... </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><i>Well the night was like any other, I got a call 'bout quarter to nine<br />
There was trouble in a roadhouse out on the Michigan line<br />
There was a kid lyin' on the floor lookin' bad bleedin' hard from his head there was a girl cryin' at a table and it was Frank, they said<br />
Well I went out and I jumped in my car and I hit the lights<br />
Well I must of done one hundred and ten through Michigan county that night</i> </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">And then the chorus:</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><i>Me and Franky laughin' and drinkin'<br />
Nothin' feels better than blood on blood<br />
Takin' turns dancin' with Maria as the band played "Night of the Johnstown Flood"<br />
I catch him when he's strayin' like any brother would<br />
Man turns his back on his family well he just ain't no good</i></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">Clearly these words resonated strongly with Penn and no doubt the whole Cain and Abel thing must be close to his heart because he decided to take this story and make a film out of it. Now making a film based on a song can't be an easy thing to do but Penn is more than capable of writing a script himself and so he waded right into it. There's not much more to the story than what the Boss sketched out in his song. Except Penn does add an interesting dimension by making Viggo's character a Vietnam veteran, although this is not really explored in any great depth. He's also has more tattoos than a carnie sideshow freak, which is never a good sign. He's not necessarily a bad guy, but he's having a lot of trouble fitting in, settling down, starting a family, all that good shit. And his brother being such a pillar of society doesn't help much. Basically, he's conflicted. Hence the tattoos.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">It quickly becomes apparent as<b><i> Indian Runner</i></b> unfolds in its leisurely way that Penn is a student of the 70s school of film-making. The pace is unhurried, characters are given time to develop, the canvas is large and the acting is natural and note perfect. Scenes are good and long. Of course, Penn recognises great acting talent and in David Morse and Viggo Mortensen (long before fame found him with <i><b>Lord of the Rings</b></i>) he finds two towering talents who manage to perfectly encapsulate the two sides of the brotherly coin. Penn also managed to get another major talent - Charles Bronson - to deliver his last great performance as the father of the two boys, so devastated by the loss of his wife that he can no longer manage the members of his family who are still among the living. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica,arial;"><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TF_NmPNccXI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/oIXW2j7mubA/s1600/crossing_guard_ver1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TF_NmPNccXI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/oIXW2j7mubA/s400/crossing_guard_ver1.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The Crossing Guard (1995)</b></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">For his next outing Penn would embrace themes that he would return to again later in his career, both as an actor and director - the untimely death of a child and the devastation it wreaks on everyone involved. </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">In <i><b>The Crossing Guard</b></i>, Jack Nicholson plays Freddy Gale, the owner of a jewellery store who's toddler daughter was been killed by a drunk driver. The film opens as he learns that the driver (played by David Morse) is about to be released on probation after serving 5 years for culpable homicide. In the interim, Freddy's life has fallen apart. He's divorced from the child's mother, is drinking himself to an early grave and can barely go through the motions of dealing with customers in his store. (In one hilarious scene he demonstrates to a woman just how to get a tight-fitting ring on her finger.) Still consumed by grief he plans to kill the man and by doing so he hopes to gain some release from his unrelenting torment. Freddy feels that by trying to get on with their lives everyone else has betrayed him and the dead child. He cannot let his pain go and carries it around like a blazing torch, even though it is destroying him in the process. Nicholson takes the role and squeezes every last ounce of juice out of it, and his amazing abilities are equal to the task. It is an incredibly detailed portrayal of a man consumed by grief and crippled by an event that consumes his every waking moment, until at last he achieves some kind of closure.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">As the plot would indicate the movie is no barrel of laughs, and no doubt could have used a bit of tightening up in places but working with actors of the caliber of Nicholson, Morse and Anjelica Huston as Nicholson's ex-wife Penn creates a movie so filled with moments of human truth that you are prepared to forgive it its minor faults. Bruce Springsteen wrote a song for the film that is so incredibly affecting you'd have to be made of stone not to be moved to tears when it kicks in. Not an easy film to watch but no less compelling for it.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TF_V8yahVhI/AAAAAAAAAOY/Yl1epyc6IHA/s1600/pledge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TF_V8yahVhI/AAAAAAAAAOY/Yl1epyc6IHA/s400/pledge.jpg" width="285" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><b>The Pledge (2001)</b></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">After <b><i>The Crossing Guard</i></b> Penn took a long break from directing but it was clear on his return that he's lost none of his passion for difficult subject matters that strike at the core of things. This time round he had a novel (by Swiss writer Friedrich Dürrenmatt) to use as his starting point and <i><b>The Pledge</b></i> does benefit as a result, having a better structure and a more involving plot. Penn chose to work with Jack Nicholson again, and this time Nicholson plays Detective Jerry Black who is about to retire when he catches one last case. Unfortunately for Black, the case is a homicide of a young child and the distraught mother makes him promise that he will never give up until he finds the killer. Other detectives shrug it off as the rantings of a woman driven mad with grief but Black has given his word, which is his bond. This honourable act in the end proves his undoing as he slowly succumbs to the obsession of catching a killer at the risk of losing everything else in his life, including his sanity. <b><i>The Pledge</i></b> marked a shift in Penn's direction. While the subject matter and choice of actors was a return to familiar territory, the use of the camera and music showed that he had moved beyond the obvious influence of John Cassavetes to include another giant maverick of the 70s - Terrence Malick. The sheer beauty of Penn's vision and his obvious affinity for the remarkable diversity and vast spaces of North America lift <i><b>The Pledge</b></i> out of the realm of just another detective potboiler and into something else entirely. Particularly in the use of music, clearly a great influence on Penn, <b><i>The Pledge</i></b> becomes a lyrical journey. A road movie almost, and a peaen to a world that remains beautiful, even when monsters can move through it with seeming impunity. Nicholson once again delivers an impeccable performance as Jerry Black, possibly the finest of his entire career. He's assisted very capably with sterling support performances by the likes of Benicio Del Toro, Patricia Clarkson, Robin Wright Penn and Aaron Eckhart.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><b>Into The Wild (2007)</b></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TF_eT_EnvMI/AAAAAAAAAOg/K1w6nB-b340/s1600/into_the_wild.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TF_eT_EnvMI/AAAAAAAAAOg/K1w6nB-b340/s400/into_the_wild.jpg" width="271" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">Penn's most recent feature is also his most accomplished. This time out Penn chooses the story of Christopher McCandless as his subject matter. McCandless was a free spirit (to put it mildly) who became the subject of a book by <i><b>Into Thin Air </b></i>author Jon Krakauer after he donated his college fund to Oxfam, abandoned his car and became a professional tramp in the style of Woody Guthrie. His final act after some pretty spectacular cross-country rambling was to head into the Alaskan wilderness with a bag of rice and a .22 rifle and a book on edible plants in order to live off the land for as long as possible. Unfortunately he didn't realise that living on squirrel meat alone is a slow road to starvation and that the Alaskan wildnerness is no place to learn from your mistakes. What Penn manages to do with what seems like a rather prosaic story of a footloose dude with a death wish is nothing short of remarkable. Not only does he make McCandless come across as a person of deep spirituality and remarkable wisdom for one so young but he makes us care deeply for him and mourn his passing as if we knew him. And by the end of the film you do feel as if you knew the guy, so thoroughly does Penn explore his thoughts and the vagaries of his short but remarkable life. This is thanks in no small part to the extensive research undertaken by Jon Krakauer. Perhaps due to Krakauer's powerful work, or the fact that McCandless was a big reader and inveterate journal keeper, Penn's movie has a strong literary quality to it (he even has extracts from McCandless' journal appearing on the screen and chapters that mark the major milestones of McCandless' journey). It's a terribly sad story of course and the ending is heartwrenching, even when you know its coming but Penn nevertheless makes the story soar and the cinematography by Eric Gautier is never anything less than riveting. Eddie Vedder's beautiful songs add another layer to the total and make this a feast for eyes and ears and a truly thoughtful study of what it is that compels people to abandon the safety of their families and careers and embark on wild adventures.<br />
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(Since the book was published and again with the release of the film McCandless has become a controversial figure and much debate has raged around whether he was a self-centered nut or a modern day visionary with Christ-like qualities. Many have commented that Krakauer's work has ignored some of the facts that cast McCandless in a not so favourable light and basically put the boy on a pedestal. Many find his actions foolhardy and irresponsible, and believe that he had a death wish, and indeed anyone with even basic knowledge of living in the wild would know that McCandless was setting himelf up to fail. He simply did not have enough knowledge or equipment to prevail in such a harsh environment. Whichever way you slice it, McCandless made his choices and paid the ultimate price for his actions. No doubt he had his reasons. If anything else, his actions serve as a valuable cautionary tale for anyone else who may be foolhardy enough to take on the Alaskan wilderness - or any wilderness for that matter - without the proper experience or preparation.)<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div>Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-47986447912708483252010-07-29T00:48:00.000-07:002010-11-05T03:54:54.469-07:00THE PLASTIKI EXPEDITION - highlighting the perils of plastic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Everybody knows that plastic sucks, but how do you live without the stuff? Practically everything we consume is packaged in plastic. It's everywhere: in our cars, the music we listen to, the furniture we sit on, the clothes we wear. <br />
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It's also in our oceans, hundreds of tons of it. And it's killing dolphins, whales, turtles and God knows how many other creatures that live in the sea. Consider for example the phenomena of garbage islands, such as the Eastern Pacific Garbage Patch, a floating island of trash <i>twice the size of Texas</i> located between California and Hawaii. And that's just one of them.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">De Rothschild</td></tr>
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David de Rothschild, an environmental campaigner and adventurer, decided to do something different to get the message out about plastic and its impact on the oceans. He and his mates crossed the Pacific - on a sailboat built entirely out of plastic. 12,000 plastic bottles to be precise.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Plastiki crew</td></tr>
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De Rothschild is not your average tree hugger. He's part of a seriously wealthy banking family so when he decides to launch into a new venture, he's got the moolah to pull it off. What's unusual about the dude is that he doesn't spend his days flitting around the globe pursued by hordes of paparazzi, partying it up and starring in his own reality TV show. Instead he gets involved in the big issues of the day, planning and executing expeditions and adventures around the world that highlight environmental issues. Yeah, I hate the bastard too. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TFEw8jkGcEI/AAAAAAAAANg/2H9fYyB3ubY/s1600/platiki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TFEw8jkGcEI/AAAAAAAAANg/2H9fYyB3ubY/s320/platiki.jpg" /></a></div>Naturally the Plastiki is a monument to green living, including solar panels and a bicycle-powered generator to create power, a hydroponic garden, and salt water showers. <br />
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De Rothschild was joined on the Plastiki by 5 other crew members, including a female skipper and a dude from National Geographic who is shooting a documentary of the expedition. Six people on board a tiny boat made of plastic sounds like a recipe for disaster but so far the Plastiki seems to have managed quite well, despite the constant threat of being bulldozed by one of dozens of vast container ships that plough the ocean lanes which the Plastiki is also using. Yes, even on the ocean there is traffic.<br />
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The trip was officially completed on July 26 when the Plastiki sailed into Sydney Harbour , having traversed 8,300 miles across the Pacific. On their website the crew estimated that during the 40 days it took them to complete the journey, approximately 8,3 billion plastic bottles had been used in the USA alone. <br />
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<a href="http://green.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/05/07/aboard-the-plucky-plastiki/">http://green.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/05/07/aboard-the-plucky-plastiki/</a>Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-90042359184500777712010-07-13T01:17:00.000-07:002010-11-12T00:43:06.617-08:00WILLIAM FRIEDKIN - Never a Dull Moment<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TD1yWXaCp0I/AAAAAAAAAMs/rHmqZINfLHo/s1600/william-friedkin-2009.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493672849027802946" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TD1yWXaCp0I/AAAAAAAAAMs/rHmqZINfLHo/s400/william-friedkin-2009.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 298px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">William Friedkin: well dressed, but difficult</span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: 180%;">Cinephiles</span> can argue about anything but most agree that the 70s was one of the most fertile and fascinating periods in cinema history. So many legendary films were made in the 70s it's as if there was something in the water. (In his excellent book, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Easy Riders, Raging Bulls</span>, Peter Biskind explores this period in great detail. I recommend you read it.) The reality is that the movie industry is very much a product of the times. Following the cultural revolution of the mid to late 60s, the Vietnam War and Watergate, there was a powerful drive to tell stories that had meaning beyond box office profits. Plus people were snorting a lot of cocaine and that really helped to loosen things up. Whatever the reasons, movie-makers weren't ruled by the bottom line, and seemed to be given a longer leash than they are today. Films were dark, gritty, powerful. There was a humanity about the stories, something real. Most of the actors weren't even that good looking (who would cast Christopher Walken in a leading role today?). This in particular was a great boon to the younger generation, the up-and-coming auteurs who had something to prove. One of these young knights was William Friedkin, a brash, outspoken and extremely bright cinephile with some big ideas about how pictures should look. Friedkin was out of television and had done a couple of features, including a documentary that won some attention, but nothing major. But he still had the chutzpah to turn <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The French Connection</span> into one of the most powerful movies of the decade, or any decade for that matter. Some say that early success is never a good thing, and it's certainly true that he never managed to duplicate the massive critical and commercial success of his earlier work. But talent is talent, and I believe anything Friedkin touches is worth a look. No matter what Friedkin feature you're watching, its guaranteed to entertain, and sometimes be so insanely entertaining, you totally forget the world around you. And when it comes to movies, I can't think of much higher praise than that. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TD8PeLEFAMI/AAAAAAAAANE/wwZtHegan0Y/s1600/french_connection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TD8PeLEFAMI/AAAAAAAAANE/wwZtHegan0Y/s400/french_connection.jpg" width="252" /></a></div><b><i>The French Connection</i></b> (1971) <br />
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It seems amazing now that Friedkin was in his 30s when he helmed this film, particularly as it swept the boards at the Academy awards that year, walking off with no less than 5 statues, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Editing and Best Actor for Gene Hackman. Truth be told, the movie is just as startling and relevant today as it was then, and its influence has not abated, and can be seen in groundbreaking television series like <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Wire</span> and <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Sopranos </span>plus any other number of gritty crime dramas. NYC itself really sets the tone, and Friedkin scoured the city to find exactly the right locations - the desolate vacant lots and trash-strewn streets, the all night bars and nightclubs, even the famous subway, these things are a palpable presence in the film. Combined with the documentary style camerawork and rapid-fire editing, it made for a galvanising experience, like being wired on too little sleep and too much instant coffee. Front and center of the whole saga is a gigantic performance by the amazing Gene Hackman as Popeye Doyle, the maniacal and unhinged narc. Doyle rampages through the streets like a runaway Panzer tank, glowering under his pork-pie hat at the world and going off like a half-cocked IED at the drop of a matchstick. It's one of most memorable performances of modern day cinema and it made Hackman a star, although lucky for us, he was too intelligent an actor and just plain wierd looking to ever settle for dopey lead man roles. Amazingly Hackman topped even this achievement in <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">French Connection II</span> (directed by John Frankenheimer), which is one of the very few sequels to give the original a run for its money. <br />
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<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Exorcist</span> (1973) <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TD2NerrQsdI/AAAAAAAAAM0/oTpgfZl0QeA/s1600/exorcist_ver2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493702678721638866" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TD2NerrQsdI/AAAAAAAAAM0/oTpgfZl0QeA/s400/exorcist_ver2.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 400px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 295px;" /></a> <br />
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This is one of those films that have become a legend in the industry. Possibly the quintessential horror movie, it is still talked about in hushed tones and only recently was made available in all its full gory glory. Despite the limitations of the time in terms of special effects, the makers managed to create enough atmosphere through canny choice of locations, excellent casting and the memorable score (critical to any horror flick). The movie made tremendous amounts of money and firmly established horror films as box office crowd pleasers of note. The plot concerns a teenage girl (Linda Blair) who has begun to behave very oddly. So what's unusual about that you say? Well, the odd behaviour includes crawling around on the ceiling and speaking in ancient languages, so even for a teenager it's a little bizarre. The mom (Ellen Burstyn) tries the psychiatric route but that proves to be a bust, so in desperation she goes to a Catholic priest (Max von Sydow). The good padre doesn't need much time to figure out he's dealing with a major case of demon possession. After that, things get really hairy, with several now infamous scenes involving projectile pea soup vomit, head-spinning and crucifix abuse, as the good Father battles mightily to rid the girl of the demon and restore the household to normalcy. <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Exorcist</span> may seem a little quaint in the light of what passes for horror today but it remains a powerful and riveting experience (especially if you watch it alone). The trick of a deep masculine voice spewing obscenities from a young girl's mouth is remarkably effective, so much so that whenever you see a 'haunted house' movie these days they inevitably trot it out for good measure. At bottom, however, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Exorcist</span> has become a novelty, a curiosity from the past. 'Just how bad is it really?', seems to be the main motivation to watch it now. And due to its reliance on special effects and transparent attempts to 'shock' its audience, it has not aged as well as other films from the period. Although its notoriety has almost certainly guaranteed it will live on as an enduring cult classic. <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TD2N9_za2II/AAAAAAAAAM8/gSKtPZMbaow/s1600/to_live_and_die_in_la.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493703216700512386" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TD2N9_za2II/AAAAAAAAAM8/gSKtPZMbaow/s400/to_live_and_die_in_la.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 264px;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">To Live and Die in LA</span> (1985)</span> <br />
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</span></span>If anything this underrated classic can be viewed as <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">French Connection III, The West Coast Connection</span>. It conveys the same intensity as Friedkin's first big movie, transposed to the sun-bleached highways and over-sized airports of Los Angeles. Once again Friedkin uses the cop on a mission as his vehicle. This time it's Detective Richard Chance, played by a very young William Peterson of <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">CSI</span>: <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Vegas</span> fame, and instead of drugs its a counterfeit gang lead by Rick Masters, played with suitably oily charm by Willem Defoe. The gang killed his ex-partner (we'll forgive him the cliche and you'll see why in a minute) so he's hellbent on nailing Masters. Friedkin turns up the heat big time in this one and has the perfect foil in Petersen, who acts his little heart out playing Chance. Despite being hampered by the dubious fashion choices of the era (tight jeans and cowboy boots, which highlight Petersen's bandy legs), he gives a scorching portrayal of the near psychopathic cop, willing to sacrifice anyone and anything to nail his guy. Friedkin once again makes excellent use of the Los Angeles locations and a truly hair-raising car chase is an obvious choice (strengthening comparisons with French Connection). However, just as you think you've got the thing all figured out, Friedkin gives his audience - no doubt far more jaded in 85 than they were in 71 - a savage wake-up call that lets him neatly off the hook for all the cliches that have come before. A riveting thriller that has lost none of its power despite the passing of time (although the soundtrack by Wing Chung might seem a little odd at first). <br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TDyDdlobCNI/AAAAAAAAAMc/J7Hm7Q2NHdA/s1600/rules_of_engagement.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493410189826263250" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TDyDdlobCNI/AAAAAAAAAMc/J7Hm7Q2NHdA/s400/rules_of_engagement.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 396px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 297px;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Rules of Engagement</span> (2000) <br />
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I must confess, until I happened to catch a re-run of this on cable the other night, I didn't even know it was a Friedkin film. Suddenly it all made sense. At first glance, RoE comes across as another turkey in the style of <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">A Few Good Men</span> (don't ask me why people love that movie so much). The military court room drama has been a staple of cinema ever since the days of <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Billy Budd</span>. Lately, however, we've been cursed by quite a few feeble efforts, including the aforementioned Cruise vehicle among many other numb-nutted outings, one of which featured John Travolta for some incomprehensible reason. But <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Rules of Engagement</span> is a definite cut above these feeble attempts. For one thing it features Sam Jackson and Tommy Lee Jones, two of the finest character actors at work today. For another, its extremely topical. As of right this minute, the US Army's rules of engagement are a super hot potato that is causing no end of problems to fighting men in the Afghanistan theatre. The problem has become more profound in today's wars because insurgents don't wear uniforms. They blend in with the local population and are very often supported by the local population. But the wars of today are fought in the public eye and when civilians are killed by a military strike, asses are usually in a very big sling. This dilemma forms the basis of the plot for RoE, and it starts with a bang, as Sergeant Terry Childers, played by Sam Jackson, is called in with his company of marines, to rescue the US Ambassador to Yemen who is under siege at the embassy. Friedkin handles the attack with considerable aplomb and the violence is real and gut-wrenching, conveying the so-called 'fog of war' very accurately. This is crucial to the plot, as Childers' decisions in the heat of battle are later brought into question when the Yemenis cry foul at the dead civilians piled up in front of the embassy building. The US political machine decides to make a scapegoat out of Childers and thus the courtroom component of the story comes into play. Childers decides he wants an old army buddy to defend him, Colonel Hayes Hodges, played by Tommy Lee Jones. Turns out Childers saved Hodges' ass back in Vietnam and now its Hodges turn to repay the debt. Naturally there is a fire-breathing prosecutor to wind up the ensemble and Guy Pearce does a fine job of playing the hatchet man. Much of the pleasure though comes from watching Sam Jackson and Tommy Lee Jones at work, as these two very fine players can really bring it when they have to. Friedkin gets fine performances from both of them, and thereby manages to elevate the film beyond the limitations of the genre. <br />
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<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Hunted</span> (2003) <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TD1xw-0dP_I/AAAAAAAAAMk/Yeil2rdZKeI/s1600/hunted_ver2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493672206772551666" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/TD1xw-0dP_I/AAAAAAAAAMk/Yeil2rdZKeI/s400/hunted_ver2.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 400px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 270px;" /></a> <br />
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I had high hopes for this one but unfortunately it wasn't quite up to Friedkin's usual standards. Much of the blame must surely be laid on the feeble script. The premise is undoubtedly an interesting one, but its vast potential is never fully realised and some aspects of the story are simply very difficult to swallow. The plot concerns a highly trained operative in some secret squirrel branch of the army (exactly which unit this may be is never made clear but it's most likely Delta Force) who's job it is to dispatch troublesome people when other more 'conventional' methods to get them to quit their murderin' and rapin' have failed. The movie opens in some distant hellhole (I believe it's Bosnia-Herzogevina) with just such an action about to be carried out. The operative, Aron Hallam (Benicio Del Toro) performs his duty admirably, but appears to suffer some major post-tramautic stress disorder as a result and the next thing a pair of hunters turn up dead in a very remote region of the Pacific North West. Except they're not just dead, they've been skinned alive. In a truly remarkable deduction, the investigating officers figure out that the crime has been committed by someone with highly specialised skills of the type only taught by the military. Enter LT (Tommy Lee Jones), a former instructor who for many years trained said operatives in the dark arts of war, including our boy Hallam. From that point on we enter familiar territory for those who have seen Tommy Lee's 'Fugitive' pictures and <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Hunted </span>pretty much degenerates into a chase film. Although it is very slick material with enough to hold the interest in terms of pace, scenery and two superb craftsmen in the form of Tommy Lee and Benicio, it never manages to rise above the limitations of the story. The guilty parties are undoubtedly the script writers, possibly because <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Hunted</span> was not born from a novel but rather started out as a movie idea. Whatever the reason, the story is simply very thin. There are a great deal of unanswered questions, and Hallam's character in particular is very one dimensional. He remains a mystery right up to the inevitable conclusion, but not in a good way. Where the movie does succeed is in keeping the tension high, making excellent use of locations, including some stunning wilderness and an amazing water-logged setting for the final confrontation, as well as a nicely-executed chase sequence through an urban setting. To be sure, when it comes to action, Friedkin hasn't lost his touch. It's worth a look but don't expect anything too deep. For a lazy Saturday afternoon, however, it's just about perfect. <br />
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Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-45892693178161454522010-05-26T04:27:00.000-07:002010-11-12T00:41:25.359-08:00A World of Men - The Brass Balls of DAVID MAMET<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S_0h7ruU4rI/AAAAAAAAAJs/f9ERnIDhLPM/s1600/david_mamet_heist_001.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475570031185420978" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S_0h7ruU4rI/AAAAAAAAAJs/f9ERnIDhLPM/s320/david_mamet_heist_001.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 286px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">It takes brass balls to make a decent movie</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 180%;">In</span> a world dominated by chick flicks and rom-coms there are precious few directors out there who specialize in content for men. Sure, there are plenty of action movies and war movies but these are often big picture extravaganzas that are excruciatingly long, incredibly dumb and embarrassing to watch. The likes of Michael Bay and Tony Scott are usually the guilty parties behind these yawn fests. These are not movies for men, these are movies for morons.<br />
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One of the few directors making movies for men is David Mamet. Mamet started out as a playwright and his films have the dynamic of good theatre in that you have to pay attention or you will get lost and not know what the hell is going on. The plots are often labyrinthine with many red herrings and duplicitous characters that are meant to lead you up the garden path and generally make you feel like a chump, which is more fun than it sounds. Mamet clearly takes a special delight in this cinematic sleight of hand and indeed the world of movies is nothing if not smoke and mirrors. The other distinctive trademark of a Mamet film is bizarrely mannered language and unique speech patterns. It is a masculine language, filled with expletives and the kind of inane banter that men take pleasure in. It also has a curious rhythm all of its own, a kind of signature style that has now become instantly recognisable and (in)famous in its own right. Like it or not, it is always interesting to listen to and, like a good play, reveals something new each time you experience it. Quentin Tarantino tries to emulate his technique but usually fails. So distinctive is his writing style that some of the best Mamet movies were not directed by Mamet, but belong to him nonetheless by virtue of his unique talents.<br />
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Mamet's films are often explorations of secret societies, largely hidden from view, and seldom encountered by ordinary individuals. Whether it be the criminal world of the conman and the homicide cop, or the physical culture of the special forces operative and the martial artist, Mamet brings a documentarian's approach to each of them, providing a rare insight into a little seen corner of society that more often than not lives by its wits. In these shadowy worlds, the ability to think on your feet is the ultimate skill.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S_0jMf-onUI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/So4nSr4L0oI/s1600/house_of_games.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475571419602001218" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S_0jMf-onUI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/So4nSr4L0oI/s400/house_of_games.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 263px;" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">House of Games</span> (1987)<br />
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Mamet's first film as a director introduces us to the world of the con man, a subject he would return to again and again throughout his career. The life of the confidence artist, where nothing is as it seems, is perfect Mamet material. In order to explore the shadowy world of the con man, he takes a foil in the form of psychiatrist who gets a taste of the action and is drawn to these mysterious and exotic criminals like a moth to a flame. Mamet uses this as an excuse to roll out some of this favourite long and short cons and much of the pleasure of the film lies with watching how the marks get taken in one elaborate ruse after another. In the process, the shrink, played by Lindsey Crouse, gets an education she won't forget in a hurry. The movie featured some of Mamet's favourite players, including Joe Mantegna, William H Macy and Ricky Jay, himself an illusionist of some repute, and introduced the world to his trademark staccato dialogue.<br />
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Homicide</span> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S_0jZI048PI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/do3WC3A8JS8/s1600/homicide.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475571636725412082" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S_0jZI048PI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/do3WC3A8JS8/s400/homicide.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 383px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 255px;" /></a>(1991)<br />
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This time round Mamet uses the police procedural as his template but again it is the pitfalls of assuming anything that lie at the heart of this intriguing drama. Mantegna plays a homicide cop who loses his objectivity when he is called to the scene of a murder that may or may not have racial overtones. As he gets sucked into the world of right wing extremism, his cultural heritage takes over from his training and he is conned into doing something completely against his code. An intriguing story that keeps you guessing right up to the end, featuring all the usual hallmarks of a tightly written Mamet piece and fine performances from Mamet regulars Joe Mantegna and William H Macy as the leads.<br />
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</span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S_0f8arKg7I/AAAAAAAAAJE/IUuf-Ji1A9Y/s1600/glengarry_glen_ross_ver1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475567844765369266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S_0f8arKg7I/AAAAAAAAAJE/IUuf-Ji1A9Y/s320/glengarry_glen_ross_ver1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 220px;" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Glengarry Glen Ross</span> (1992)<br />
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The cinematic equivalent of a punch in the gut, the screenplay for <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Glengarry Glen Ross</span> firmly established Mamet as a writer of some repute, earning him several nods from the big-wig Hollywood establishment as well as the Pulitzer Prize. The story concerns the dog-eat-dog world of the real estate salesman, where humanity and dignity are sacrificed daily in order to get on 'the board', which keeps track of the sales you have racked up for the month. Things get even more Darwinian when the head of sales, in a scorching cameo by Alec Baldwin, comes down to give the team a little pep talk which basically boils down to: "the top two guys stay, everyone else is out of a job." The resulting scramble as the stunned group try to top each other and keep their jobs is heart wrenching to watch. The film featured a dream cast, including then little known future stars like Ed Harris and Kevin Spacey, as well as established heavy weights Jack Lemmon, Alan Arkin and Al Pacino. Its a gruelling experience, laced with deadly black humour that makes you laugh in spite of yourself. Anyone who has ever had to swim through the shark tank of the corporate world will recognise all the characters here in an instant. The truly sobering thought, of course, is which one is you?<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Edge</span> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S_0gKREJMcI/AAAAAAAAAJM/NAShmknppyM/s1600/edge_ver1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475568082703954370" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S_0gKREJMcI/AAAAAAAAAJM/NAShmknppyM/s320/edge_ver1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 231px;" /></a>(1997)<br />
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Helmed in muscular fashion by Kiwi director Lee Tamahori, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Edge</span> remains very much a Mamet piece, with all his favourite themes in place. Thanks to the typically unreliable single engine airplane, three very different men are thrown into a situation that will push them to the limits and reveal their true selves. Anthony Hopkins plays a bookish billionaire with a very hot wife who has to battle the elements in one of the most remote wildernesses on the planet in the company of two fellow survivors - a pro photographer played by Alec Baldwin and his sidekick Stephen (Harold Perrineau). Stalking the men is the fourth main player, a 10 foot grizzly bear with a taste for human flesh. Naturally as this is a Mamet movie, the bear is not the most dangerous thing in the wilderness, as we soon find out. A little more straightforward than most of his films, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Edge</span> nevertheless contains several characteristic Mamet twists and turns, enough to keep things interesting anyway. It is enjoyable chiefly for its stunning location in the Alaskan wilderness and the interplay between the very fine Anthony Hopkins and the hugely underrated Alec Baldwin. The bear is pretty damn good too, particularly when ripping limb from limb in a most convincing fashion.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S_0gYY_Wa0I/AAAAAAAAAJU/v4KqQxzxF0A/s1600/spartan.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475568325349501762" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S_0gYY_Wa0I/AAAAAAAAAJU/v4KqQxzxF0A/s320/spartan.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 217px;" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Spartan</span> (2004)<br />
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Possibly the quintessential Mamet film in that it utilises all of his strengths with equal aplomb, Spartan enters the opaque world of the special forces operative - highly trained individuals frequently called upon to lay their lives on the line for total strangers without question. The plot concerns the kidnapping by white slavers of a young woman who just happens to be the president's only daughter. The identity of the victim originally remains unknown to the slavers (a bit of stretch to be sure) and this means there is a brief window to allow the black bag operatives to get to her before she is spirited away and eventually killed as too great a liability. Enter Bobby Scott, a man of particular skills and singular mindset who is set loose to track the girl down. What follows is a finely crafted thriller, packed with delightful Mametian dialogue and short, sharp episodes of violence as Scott uses his unique talents to track the girl down. Spartan is largely satisfying due to the twisty plot, gritty action sequences and excellent work of the players, as Mamet draws lead Val Kilmer to new heights while squeezing superb cameos out of the likes of Tia Texada, Ed O'Neill and Kristin Bell as the hapless victim. Mark Isham's score is also highly effective, driving the action along with a theme that is both haunting and urgent. Look out for the commentary by Val Kilmer on the DVD, which is good for several chuckles. Mamet was so taken by the special forces that he went on to create a TV series about Delta Force called <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Unit</span>, starring Dennis Haysbert, Scott Foley and Max Martini, several episodes of which he has written and directed himself, stamping his own unique signature on it in the process.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">RedBelt</span> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S_0gmDn6hYI/AAAAAAAAAJc/6rjwtWQWEyQ/s1600/redbelt.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475568560132228482" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S_0gmDn6hYI/AAAAAAAAAJc/6rjwtWQWEyQ/s320/redbelt.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 216px;" /></a>(2008)<br />
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For his latest outing Mamet again chose to examine a world that is largely unknown, that of competitive martial arts. A long time Jiu-Jitsu practitioner himself, Mamet's film turned out to be oddly timeous, as the MMA phenomenon continues to grow in popularity, with the big pay-out as supplied by TV viewing rights potentially set to undermine the sport in the same way that boxing eventually lost all credibility due to the influence of shady money men. The plot focuses on the honour code that has long been the backbone of the martial world, choosing a highly accomplished Jiu-Jitsu practitioner as its foil. British actor Chiwetel Ejiofor plays MikeTerry, who despite being a world-renowned martial artist has instead chosen to own a small dojo, where he teaches Jiu-Jitsu and barely scrapes a living. When a rape victim comes into his dojo one night to ask for directions, it sets off a chain of events that will have major consequences for Terry. Ultimately his world begins to fall apart as everyone around him tries to get him to employ his unique skills for their own devious ends. In the end Mike turns the tables on them and we are treated to a spectacular display of martial arts courtesy of the highly convincing Ejiofor and renowned Jiu-Jitsu fighter John Machado. The film could possibly be construed as a commentary on Hollywood, another high pressure environment where good people are often corrupted and tempted to betray their finer artistic instincts by the promise of large sums of cash, gorgeous women and a writing credit.<br />
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<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thecr0c8-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B001C5LLMI&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe>Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-10748991036457806402010-04-19T01:12:00.000-07:002010-11-12T00:26:33.293-08:00THE WAR ON TERROR - Reports from the front lines<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The terror attacks on September 11, 2001 sent shockwaves around the world</span></td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">You</span></b> have to hand it to the USA, when it comes to marketing, they are the world leaders. <span style="font-style: italic;">The War on Terror</span>. Great campaign title isn't it? I wish I could claim to have come up with that one, but it was some anonymous speechwriter in the Bush administration who dreamed it up. I hope he got a good bonus that year.<br />
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The War on Terror has been tripping along for quite some time now. The attacks on the Twin Towers took place, as we all know, on September 11, 2001. Almost ten years ago. Like many, I consider the event to be the defining act of this decade, much like Woodstock and the moon landing defined the 60s and Disco and the Vietnam War defined the 70s. It changed the world in no uncertain terms and set off an extraordinary chain of events that continues to unfold to this day.<br />
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I was lucky enough to be in the Middle East when the first strikes were made against Iraq. Shock and Awe they called it - another great bit of marketing. It was a hair-raising moment as we sat and watched the green images on our TV set. We could see people in Baghdad strolling around, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were being targeted by god knows how many smart (and not so smart) missiles.<br />
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Since that day (March 31 if memory serves) I have tried to follow the whole story by grabbing whatever material I can find that shines a light on these events. We are lucky in that there are many fine war correspondents who are willing to risk their lives to bring back eye-witness accounts of these events that take place on the other side of the globe. There are also many great investigative journalists who spending hundreds of hours poring over documents, interviewing little known bureaucrats and attending congressional reviews to compile books that tell us what was really going on behind the scenes.<br />
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Beyond the daily news reports that tend to paint a chaotic and confusing picture of events, these accounts are invaluable if we are to obtain an understanding of what these events mean to the world in the greater scheme of things. They also have the invaluable benefit of hindsight.<br />
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These are some of the pivotal publications that I can recommend unreservedly if you want to obtain a better understanding of the War on Terror. I will add to the list as I myself absorb more literature in time to come. At bottom is a list of further reading that I haven't gotten around to (time and funds are always limited) but is also highly recommended.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Looming Tower, Al Qaeda and the Road</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">to 9/11</span> by Lawrence Wright <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S8xPvq00xoI/AAAAAAAAAH8/xQNyDT97Xcc/s1600/14405051.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461828128461866626" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S8xPvq00xoI/AAAAAAAAAH8/xQNyDT97Xcc/s320/14405051.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 214px;" /></a><br />
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An indispensable account of how AQ got to the pivotal point of flying planes into the World Trade Center. This account contains some astonishing revelations about the loosely organized collection of extremists who planned and executed a devastating attack on one of the most symbolically powerful institutions in the western world. Wright traces the origins on AQ and includes a great deal of biographical information on its leader, Osama Bin Laden, that provides revealing insights into his motivations for forming AQ and his hatred for the Great Satan and all things western.<br />
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The other fascinating character that emerged from the ashes was FBI Agent John O'Neill who's obsessive pursuit of Al Qaeda was unfortunately waylaid by his superiors who took exception to his unconventional working methods and messy personal life. One can speculate whether O'Neill may have succeeded in preventing the disaster if he had been allowed to remain as chief of the New York bureau but that would have been a real miracle. The simple truth of the matter is that the plan was simply too audacious and incredible for anyone to have guessed at it in time to stop it from unfolding. Not to mention the now well-documented rivalry between the CIA and FBI which prevented vital intelligence from reaching the necessary ears and allowed the terrorists to slip through the cracks. The book was justly rewarded with a Pulitzer Prize.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S8xQSLn1goI/AAAAAAAAAIE/oMVotjF8EiM/s1600/AlQaeda.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461828721381311106" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S8xQSLn1goI/AAAAAAAAAIE/oMVotjF8EiM/s320/AlQaeda.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 203px;" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Al Qaeda - The True Story of Radical Islam</span> by Jason Burke<br />
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Where Wright's book reads like a novel (not that there's anything wrong with that), Burke's investigation into the origins and development of AQ takes a more traditional approach. His aim is to provide unique inside views of the organisation's history and operations in the desolate and primitive regions of the world where they ply their trade and in the process dispel some of the myths that have arisen around the AQ since its meteoric rise to fame. He unpacks their <span style="font-style: italic;">modus operandi</span> and goes into some detail about their origins and how their infamous hydra-headed structure came about. In the process it becomes clear that combating this organisation is an extraordinarily difficult task. Cut off one head and another grows in its place - only under a different name and in a different location. Burke's book is even more valuable because he didn't come by the information sitting behind a desk but traveled into the belly of the beast and went in search of his subjects in the back alleys and mountain passes of Sudan, Afghanistan and Saudi Arabia.<br />
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Fiasco - The American Military Adventure in Iraq, 2003 - 2005</span> by Thomas E. Ricks<br />
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A devastating and brilliantly summed up account of the piss-poor planning that went into the Iraq war by a senior war correspondent at the Wall Street Journal and more recently the Washington Post. Hicks doesn't mince words (as the title would indicate) and lays the blame squarely at the feet of the neocons in Bush's administration - Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz and Cheney - who accurately foresaw a glorious and resounding defeat for the Hussein administration but failed dismally to plan for the post-war scenario and then stood by and watched helplessly as insurgents turned Iraq into an ongoing disaster area in the months and years following the invasion. The real tragedy behind the whole mess is that the USA went from being welcome liberators to despised occupiers in a matter of weeks and created a massive strategic disaster that set back their efforts to combat Islamic extremism by decades. Instead of being hailed as heroes, they became an object of hatred for millions of Iraqis who prior to the invasion probably had no feeling one way or another towards the USA. Hicks provides a totally convincing account of why the Iraqis have good reason to feel the way they do.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S8xRi6h1-SI/AAAAAAAAAIc/JvS75SIrax4/s1600/Cobra+II.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461830108362176802" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S8xRi6h1-SI/AAAAAAAAAIc/JvS75SIrax4/s320/Cobra+II.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 206px;" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">COBRA II - The Inside Story of the Invasion and Occupation</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">of Iraq</span> by Michael Gordon & Bernard Trainor<br />
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COBRA II is a work of serious and intimidating gravitas but once you get into it, the pages turn rapidly. The authors are heavyweights who know what they are talking about and together they deliver massive amounts of incriminating detail and mind-boggling revelations on how the Bush administration threw up a smokescreen of unmitigated BS in order to justify the invasion of Iraq. The whole weapons of mass destruction myth is dismantled here and the book also shows how the press were complicit in creating the atmosphere of mass hysteria that led to the invasion. The authors don't only dwell among the upper echelons of command to obtain their material but get down in the trenches with the invading forces, providing a gripping account of the initial invasion and the problems they encountered due to the US forces' insistence on using heavy artillery and armour at all costs, despite the unique conditions presented by the geography of Iraq.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Generation Kill</span> by Evan Wright <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S8xUyrJcJpI/AAAAAAAAAIk/NlwAcQmrxnw/s1600/G-Kill.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461833677646079634" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S8xUyrJcJpI/AAAAAAAAAIk/NlwAcQmrxnw/s320/G-Kill.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 210px;" /></a><br />
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The Iraq War created the strange phenomenon of the embedded journalist, a reporter who was placed with a particular battalion and lived with them as they embarked on the exhilarating and terrifying journey into the war zones. This resulted in up-to-the-minute reporting for the news channels and websites of the large newspapers who could afford such luxuries but also gave reporters unprecedented access to the grunts who fought these wars. Incredibly young, highly efficient killers and often tremendously naive, these soldiers had immense firepower at their disposal but they were less well-equipped to deal with the insanity and tragedy of the scenes that confronted them every day. Wright traveled with First Recon, an elite group of fighters who's job it is to venture behind enemy lines and report back on hostile activity and movement. In all their infinite wisdom the US Army instead reassigns this battalion to spearhead the invasion of Iraq, and they find themselves on point, racing ahead to encounter scenes of a distinctly surreal nature. Wright paints an unforgettable portrait of the unit's colourful characters and shows that for all the grand schemes hatched by the generals and politicians, more often that not, it is the grunt behind the wheel of the humvee and the trigger of the .50 cal who determines the outcome of the battle.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S8xVTE-YNCI/AAAAAAAAAIs/MLAPeIKxMNA/s1600/ForeverWar.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461834234334819362" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S8xVTE-YNCI/AAAAAAAAAIs/MLAPeIKxMNA/s320/ForeverWar.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 215px;" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Forever War</span> - Dexter Filkins<br />
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New York Times reporter Dexter Filkins has crafted a book of strange and surreal beauty in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Forever War</span>. Far removed from a typical account of war in foreign places, it has a remote and serene quality to it that belies the horror it reports on. Like a sober and serious-minded version of Hunter S Thompson, Filkins inserts himself into almost every scene and in a lucid and deceptively simple style creates a series of vignettes that are greater than the sum of their parts, adding up to provide an overwhelming sense of the intractable nature of the conflict in Iraq and Afghanistan. A truly haunting work that will go down in history along with Michael Herr's <span style="font-style: italic;">Dispatches</span> and Mark Bowden's <span style="font-style: italic;">Black Hawk Down</span> as one of the great works of war reportage.<br />
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Further reading:<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">House to House</span> by David Bellavia - an eyewitness story of the battle for Fallujah by the soldiers who fought it. Highly praised account of that incredibly tough and costly campaign<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">No True Glory</span> by Bing West - another well regarded account of the Fallujah dust-up<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Good Soldiers</span> by David Finkel - Another well-respected work of war reportage that follows the much debated troop surge that was meant to turn the tide in Iraq<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Horse Soldiers</span> by Doug Stanton. A boy's own tale of Special Forces in Afghanistan<br />
<span style="font-weight: bold;">Imperial Life in the Emerald City, Inside Iraq's Green Zone</span> by Rajiv Chandrasekaran. An eye-witness account of life in the surreal and infamous US base of operations in the heart of Baghdad.<br />
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<span style="font-size: 78%;">[Images courtesy of Barnes&Noble]<br />
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</span> <a href="http://www.loot.co.za/refer.html?referrer=96425849355"><img border="0" src="%27http://www.loot.co.za/static/images/banners/468x60banner.gif%27" /></a>Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-91367854680442840932010-03-03T05:16:00.000-08:002010-11-12T00:42:30.291-08:00CORMAC MCCARTHY - Darkness visible<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S45tUDKyFPI/AAAAAAAAAH0/--tsLniiIvI/s1600-h/cormacmc.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444409190752851186" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S45tUDKyFPI/AAAAAAAAAH0/--tsLniiIvI/s400/cormacmc.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 375px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I have</span></span> been somewhat remiss with this project in that I promised movies, music <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> literature but have been pretty tardy in delivering the latter two.<br />
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OK, so here's some literature with a capital 'L'. I figured I would jump in feet first with a little something about how I discovered Cormac McCarthy whom I consider to be the greatest living writer.<br />
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I first cottoned on to Cormac when I came across a copy of <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Blood Meridian</span> in a bookstore some years ago. I believe it was 1990 or thereabouts. I remember checking out the Picador rotunda, which always had some good material, and coming across this title by a guy called Cormac McCarthy.<br />
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Two things grabbed me immediately. One was that the book had two titles: <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Blood Meridian</span> or <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Evening Redness in the West</span>, and the second was the cover featured a very cool painting of a guy riding a horse... and he was wearing a <span style="font-style: italic;">cowboy hat</span>.<br />
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Now this is a genre that hasn't exactly left huge imprints on the literary world (with all due respect to Louis L and Zane G). On its own, maybe not such a big deal. But then the critical comments on the back cover were really something. I mean one dude compared it to <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Moby Dick</span> and <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Iliad</span>, two of the most respected works in literary history. Other guys were mentioning Faulkner, Heironymous Bosch, Edgar Allen Poe and Flannery O'Connor.<br />
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So there I stood in that dusty bookstore with this paperback in my hands, thinking: holy shit, what the hell <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> this?<br />
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Well I read that book and it took me on journey (literally and figuratively, the story covers a lot of miles). The language was like nothing else I had encountered. It was ornate, out of history, biblical almost. The sentences were long - really long. And the subject matter was insanely dark. It was so violent it was surreal. In one scene a guy got his head chopped off with a bowie knife. I was in literary heaven.<br />
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Hell yes, McCarthy's stuff is unlike any other. OK, there's Faulkner, but he never had bowie knives (not to my knowledge anyway). Not only does he write like a man possessed, but his subject matter is singularly bizarre. Gothic doesn't begin to describe it. And there are no cellphones in his books, no laptops, no internet speak or Dr Phil pyschobabble. Its like the last 50 years just haven't happened.<br />
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Plus he writes the best dialogue in the history of the written word. And he does it without speech quotes. The dude is just plain <span style="font-style: italic;">bad-ass</span>.<br />
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In a nutshell, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Blood Meridian</span> deals with actual historical events that look place around 1855 in the American Southwest. Around that time the Mexican government, determined to rid itself of a persistent Apache problem, offered a bounty of $1 for every Apache scalp that could be harvested.<br />
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But the authorities didn't particularly care if the scalps were Apache or not, so long as they were Indian. Men, women, children. It was all equal to these gents, so long as they were cutting back the pesky redskin population.<br />
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Naturally this potential boon attracted a bunch of people for whom violence was a natural state of being. Among the most notorious was John Glanton, an ex-US Army soldier and mercenary who's fiance had reported been killed by the Apache.<br />
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Glanton duly assembled a bunch of money hungry ne'er-do-wells and off they went, carving a wide red path before them. Realising that Apache were not an easy target, Glanton's men chose instead to raid peaceful Indian tribes and even Mexican citizenry. As long as the hair was black and shiny it was fair game for these boys.<br />
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McCarthy revisits this period from the point of view of the fictional main character, known only as the Kid. We follow him on his travels as he falls in with Glanton and his merry men, which includes Judge Holden, a freakish personage over seven feet tall and completely hairless with a distinctly apocalyptic view of the world.<br />
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As the story unfolds the bodies pile up and mayhem of all sorts ensues. But the plot is incidental to the real excitement, which is McCarthy's use of language. His fondness for archiac words, those incredibly long sentences, combined with his immense knowledge of the subject matter and the landscapes of the American South West (he travelled extensively through the region while researching the book), all adds up to a work of stunning power and beauty.<br />
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Consider this extract, as an example:<br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;">They grew gaunted and lank under the white suns of those days and their hollow burnedout eyes were like those of noctambulants surprised by day. Crouched under their hats they seemed fugitives on some grander scale, like beings for whom the sun hungered. Even the judge grew silent and speculative. He'd spoke of purging oneself of those things that lay claim to a man but that body receiving his remarks counted themselves well done with any claims at all. They rode on and the wind drove the fine gray dust before them and they rode an army of graybeards, gray men, gray horses.<br />
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The mountains to the north lay sunwise in corrugated folds and the days were cool and the nights were cold and they sat about the fire each in his round of darkness in that round of dark while the idiot watched from his cage at the edge of the light. The judge cracked with the back of an axe the shinbone on an antelope and the hot marrow dripped smoking on the stones. They watched him. The subject was war.</span><br />
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The book is filled with such examples, unforgettable passages that seem to have sprung from some ancient leather-bound tome, dug up from beneath the floorboards of a house long since abandoned to the elements.<br />
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It was the beginning of a journey of discovery that after many years and several more works of equal substance, is still not over. Now, when a new McCarthy is rumoured to be in the offing, it is an event of some magnitude, like a total solar eclipse.<br />
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Unfortunately, the world at large - including Oprah and Hollywood - have since discovered McCarthy too and he's no longer the best kept secret he once was. His acolytes have become legion.<br />
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Nontheless, that day I picked up <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Blood Meridian</span> off the Picador rotunda will always be mine. I still have that book and my McCarthy collection is now pretty much complete. The last two of his works I have acquired were both first editions and they take pride of place on my bookshelf next to the well-worn copy of <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Blood Meridian</span>, the one that started it all.<br />
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<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thecr0c8-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=0679641041&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe>Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-73605343488798335932010-02-19T05:34:00.000-08:002010-11-12T00:42:05.496-08:00SERGIO LEONE - Hasta la Vista baby<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%; font-weight: bold;">Smoke 'em if you got 'em</span></div><br />
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There</b> is scarcely a cinema-goer on the planet who has not, at one time or another, sat spellbound in a darkened room and watched a tall man with a three day beard flip his <span style="font-style: italic;">sarape</span> back, switch his cheroot from one side of his mouth to the other and narrow his blue eyes into slits. When this sequence of events unfolds you just<span style="font-style: italic;"> know</span> something bad is going to happen next, and most likely it will involve that long barrelled Colt hanging from his low-slung gunfighter's belt. These images of a young Clint Eastwood have over time become so iconic that they now practically define cinema, even though at the time of their release they were almost uniformly pooh-poohed by critics as populist trash.<br />
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But what the hell do they know anyway? It is precisely these deliberate, ritualistic actions that make these movies so compelling. It is the reason they are still being shown in cheap movie houses and drive-ins the world over. And the best part of it is, the person who created them wasn't even American, but Italian. Even though Sergio Leone was born long after the west was tamed forever, he knew how to use the myths and legends of that endlessly fascinating period of history to make immortal stories that were almost Zen-like in their simplicity.<br />
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With an ability to recognise great acting talent when no-one else did, a unique eye for composition that was both startling and original and a collaborator who composed scores as memorable as the images they accompanied, he turned the horse opera into an art form and in the process spawned a thousand imitators.<br />
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</b><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S36YVUqIbfI/AAAAAAAAAFM/IdSgcv_f9iE/s1600-h/Fistful.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439952892000234994" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S36YVUqIbfI/AAAAAAAAAFM/IdSgcv_f9iE/s320/Fistful.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 244px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a><b>A Fistful of Dollars</b><br />
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</b>Director: Sergio Leone<br />
Screenplay: Victor Catena, Jaime Gil and Sergio Leone<br />
Players: Clint Eastwood, Marianne Koch, Gian Maria Volonte, Wolfgang Lukschy<br />
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The first in the 'Dollar' series is loosely based on <i>Yojimbo</i> by the influential Japanese director Akira Kurosawa. It introduced us to a tall, lanky individual with permanent stubble and flinty blue eyes who didn't say a hell of a lot but let his gun do most of the talking. Sergio Leone would make Eastwood a star and the charismatic actor would go on to direct some of the greatest Westerns ever, acknowledging his debt to this enduring genre. Although Leone couldn't speak English and Eastwood's knowledge of Italian was limited to '<span style="font-style: italic;">arrivaderci</span>' they still managed to piece together a riveting thriller that made Eastwood an international superstar and cleaned up at both the US and European box office.<b><br />
<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thecr0c8-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B000OPOAOI&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe><br />
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</b><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S36X1JICe3I/AAAAAAAAAFE/DiNRF17VYhM/s1600-h/goodbadugly.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439952339148634994" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S36X1JICe3I/AAAAAAAAAFE/DiNRF17VYhM/s320/goodbadugly.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 216px;" /></a><b>The Good the Bad and the Ugly<br />
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</b>Director: Sergio Leone<br />
Screenplay: Too many to list<br />
Players: Eli Wallach, Lee van Cleef, Clint Eastwood, Luigi Pistilli, Rada Rassimov<br />
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Although the first two Dollars are interesting enough, the third one eclipses them both. A sprawling tale of three men chasing a chest full of gold set against a backdrop of the American civil war, it is a near perfect movie. With action, wit, pathos, gorgeous cinematography and of course stunning music by the legendary composer Ennio Morricone, it adds up to one of the best loved movies of all time. Leone regulars Clint Eastwood and Lee van Cleef provide the steely hero and villian respectively but it is the presence of Eli Wallach as Tuco that really makes this as an entertaining a film as you can ever hope to see. Wallach's impish humour is timeless and he makes one of the greatest scenes in cinema truly immortal when he utters the classic line: "if you're gonna shoot, shoot... don't talk!" Leone's energetic use of the camera, ranging from incredible panoramas to intense close-ups in the blink of an eye, are really in evidence here, particularly in the final climatic showdown. His fascination with the human face is unparalleled and TGTB&TU features a dazzling line-up of colourful rogues and striking character actors. Initially dismissed by critics as a poor cousin to US-made westerns TGB&TU has since taken its rightful place as an epic of great and enduring power.<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thecr0c8-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=6301971272&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe><br />
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</b><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S36aiReMKsI/AAAAAAAAAFk/EbZmKAZPM5w/s1600-h/once_upon_a_time_in_the_west.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439955313506396866" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S36aiReMKsI/AAAAAAAAAFk/EbZmKAZPM5w/s320/once_upon_a_time_in_the_west.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 210px;" /></a><b>Once Upon a Time in the West</b><br />
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Director: Sergio Leone<br />
Screenplay: Sergio Leone, Sergio Donati<br />
Players: Charles Bronson, Henry Fonda, Jason Robards, Claudia Cardinale, Gabriele Ferzetti<br />
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Leone was pretty much done with the western by the time he wrapped Good/Bad/Ugly. He had always wanted to tackle that other American genre staple, the gangster flick. This time, however, it was going to be shot in the USA, not some dusty European backwater masquerading as the real thing. However, before the studios gave the green light on the gangster picture, they said he needed to do one last western. Leone relented and began work on what would be <i>Once Upon a Time in the West</i>. Remarkably, despite his fatigue with horse operas, the movie he came out with tops even the immortal trio that preceded it and is now considered his finest achievement. From its amazing opening credit sequence (considered the longest ever filmed) to the classic Leone showdown at the end, <i>Once Upon a Time</i> is a visually stunning treat that is also a heartfelt tribute to the mythical wild west. All of the Leone elements are in place, although this time we have Charles Bronson rather than Eastwood (who was offered the part of Harmonica first but turned it down). Leone's choice of villain was even more surprising - legendary good guy Henry Fonda. Fonda proved he was no one-trick pony by turning in one of the most chilling performances to ever grace the silver screen. A typically superb Sam Robards and the magnificent Claudia Cardinale round out the cast. Although the film is meant to be experienced on as big a screen as possible, it is still possible to appreciate the massive canvas that Leone worked on, thanks to a lovingly re-mastered special edition DVD. Along with David Lean, he was undoubtedly one of the true masters of the cinemascope format.<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thecr0c8-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B0000AUHPG&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe><br />
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<b>Once Upon a Time in America</b><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S36a4ZOMWZI/AAAAAAAAAF0/uFUXss6h0eU/s1600-h/395px-Once_Upon_A_Time_In_America1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439955693543905682" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/S36a4ZOMWZI/AAAAAAAAAF0/uFUXss6h0eU/s320/395px-Once_Upon_A_Time_In_America1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 211px;" /></a><br />
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Director: Sergio Leone<br />
Screenplay: Too many to list<br />
Players: Robert de Niro, James Woods, William Forsythe, Elizabeth McGovern, Tuesday Weld, Joe Pesci, Burt Young, Treat Williams<br />
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When Leone finally got to make his gangster picture it was a sure bet that it would be a doozy. And when the film premiered at the 1984 Cannes Film Festival it received a standing ovation. What is less easy to fathom, however, is why studio execs chose to slash the movie to pieces and offer a vastly different film to the original version for commercial release. Thanks to DVD it is now possible to watch the original version of this great classic, which is often compared in the same breath to The Godfather, although it is a very different film. Robert De Niro gives yet another stellar performance as lead character Noodles, but it is James Woods who really stands out here. Although Woods has never been considered an A-list lead man like De Niro, in terms of sheer intensity he is capable of standing toe to toe with the legend and his abilities are very evident here. A sprawling work that gives new meaning to the term epic, Once Upon a Time in America is now rightfully acknowledged as one of the great works of modern cinema. Sadly it was also to be Leone's last movie.<br />
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<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thecr0c8-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B0000DI87S&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe>Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-40461348962134397922009-10-28T23:03:00.000-07:002010-11-12T00:39:41.805-08:00SAM PECKINPAH - It's Alright Ma, I'm Only Bleeding<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/Suk0hl0x4II/AAAAAAAAAEY/M0i49MZT2Ro/s1600-h/SamPeckinpah2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397903380074061954" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/Suk0hl0x4II/AAAAAAAAAEY/M0i49MZT2Ro/s400/SamPeckinpah2.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 257px;" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 85%; font-weight: bold;">Sam Peckinpah: His way, or the highway</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: 130%; font-weight: bold;">The</span> one thing that many of the great directors have in common is their unique vision. However, the pressures of trying to get your pure artistic vision onto the big screen can be considerable. Movie-making is and always will be a commercial business, where the bottom line rules supreme. As a result the relationships between studios and the people they hire to bring movies to life is often characterized by a great deal of angst, which usually leads to excessive drug and alcohol abuse and other erratic behaviour. One individual who wore the 'difficult' genius mantle like he invented it was Sam Peckinpah. Notorious for his heavy drinking and fits of rage on set, Peckinpah was a true outsider - and one of the great maverick directors of the 70s. His films are intensely personal statements, very often conveying stories of men who are no longer right for this world. They feature a unique combination of beauty, melancholy, nostalgia and extreme violence. They are truly unique in every sense of the word.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SukzKYpae8I/AAAAAAAAAD4/pHReF47yIms/s1600-h/wild_bunch.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397901881888111554" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SukzKYpae8I/AAAAAAAAAD4/pHReF47yIms/s400/wild_bunch.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 263px;" /></a><br />
<b>The Wild Bunch (1969)<br />
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</b>Director: Sam Peckinpah<br />
Writer: Walon Green and Sam Peckinpah<br />
Players: William Holden, Ernest Borgnine, Warren Oates, Robert Ryan, Ben Johnson, Jaime Sanchez<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Wild Bunch</span></i> is widely regarded as Peckinpah's masterpiece, and it has several outstanding qualities that lend weight to that claim. Chief among them is the central performance by William Holden, Ernest Borgnine, Warren Oates, Ben Johnson and Robert Ryan. Call me nostalgic, but they don't make 'em like this anymore. Not a pretty boy among them, the lines and wrinkles on their well-used faces only adds to their believability. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Wild Bunch</i> became notorious for being the first film to depict actual blood spatter as bullets hit home. It was also the first to slow the action down, so you see the dying as it happens. But the violence is only a small part of what makes this film so magnificent. The wonderful music, fantastic set pieces and awesome camera work by longtime collaborator Lucien Ballard are also a part of it. But Wild Bunch is much more than the sum of its parts. A serious contender for greatest Western ever made.<br />
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<b>Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid</b><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/Suky84yby1I/AAAAAAAAADw/EWTtOROozHY/s1600-h/pat_garrett_and_billy_the_kid.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397901649997712210" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/Suky84yby1I/AAAAAAAAADw/EWTtOROozHY/s400/pat_garrett_and_billy_the_kid.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 400px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 264px;" /></a> <span style="font-weight: bold;">(1973)</span><br />
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</b>Director: Sam Peckinpah<br />
Screenplay: Rudy Wurlitzer<br />
Players: James Coburn, Kris Kristofferson, Jason Robards, Chill Wills, John Beck<br />
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Peckinpah's other great contribution to the western oeuvre is an elegaic eulogy to one of the great legends of the old West: Billy the Kid. The message is similar to that of <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Wild Bunch</span> - the west is changing and outlaws like Billy have no place in it. The movie also deals with themes of loyalty and friendship, and how money rips the ties that bind asunder. Replete with a haunting soundtrack by Bob Dylan (and his first acting role), <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">PG&BK</span> is beautifully shot by John Coquillion. James Coburn does a magnificent job as the conflicted Pat Garrett and Kris Kristofferson manages to produce a very respectable performance as Billy, despite his relative inexperience at the time. Supporting roles are uniformly sublime. When the film was first released the studios chopped a big chunk out of it to get the pace up or some other deluded reason. This new release offers both a 122 minute version that was released in 1988 and a new 115 minute version that was edited by Peckinpah biographers Nick Redman and Paul Seydor, based on Peckinpah's shooting journal and notes.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/Sukzuxp7ZiI/AAAAAAAAAEA/4gc9jjYZTHs/s1600-h/bring_me_the_head_of_alfredo_garcia_ver3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397902507076445730" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/Sukzuxp7ZiI/AAAAAAAAAEA/4gc9jjYZTHs/s400/bring_me_the_head_of_alfredo_garcia_ver3.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 263px;" /></a><br />
<b>Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia</b> <span style="font-weight: bold;">(1974)</span><br />
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Director: Sam Peckinpah<br />
Screenplay: Sam Peckinpah and Gordon T Dawson<br />
Players: Warren Oates, Isela Vega, Robert Webber, Gig Young, Emilio Fernandez<br />
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<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">BMTHOAG</span> is strong medicine and not for the faint of heart. Working with one of his regular stable of actors, Warren Oates, Peckinpah produced a bizarre and unique piece of story-telling that combines elements of love story, revenge epic, epic western and hard-boiled crime saga to memorable effect. Oates plays Bennie, a piano player in a Mexican bar. Bennie's life is no picnic, but he has a woman he loves that he plans to marry. In a cruel twist of fate, the one good thing in Bennie's world is taken from him and, mad with grief, he sets out to take his revenge and honour the memory of his loved one. Many of Peckinpah's signature techniques are in evidence here, and once again his life-long fascination for the mysteries of Mexico is evident. A truly bizarre and unforgettable movie and one that was very close to this great director's heart.<br />
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The Getaway </b><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/Suk0CLsnrAI/AAAAAAAAAEI/0S9YiKkgbHs/s1600-h/getaway.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397902840484572162" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/Suk0CLsnrAI/AAAAAAAAAEI/0S9YiKkgbHs/s400/getaway.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 400px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 263px;" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">(1972)</span><br />
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Director: Sam Peckinpah<br />
Screenplay: Walter Hill<br />
Players: Steve McQueen, Ali McGraw, Al Lettieri, Ben Johnson, Sally Struthers<br />
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Jim Thompson was one of the most original voices in crime fiction. Texas-born, he lived a hardscrabble life, doing all kinds of different jobs while he attempted to become a commercially successful writer. Like many great artists, he was only really discovered late in life and his highly original talents were seized on by several film-makers who brought his work to the big screen. Sam Peckinpah brought in famous action star Steve McQueen to bring the story of an expert bank robber and his wife on the run to life. As Doc McCoy Steve McQueen is, well, Steve McQueen - at his best when driving, running and shooting. Although the original story by Jim Thompson included a much more surreal and downbeat ending, the script is written by Walter Hill, who put more emphasis on the action and pace of the first three quarters of the book. As such, the movie is best viewed as a pure actioner, with some great set pieces and stunt work from one of the great action stars of the 60s and 70s.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/Suk8TFMP_CI/AAAAAAAAAEo/nzXUiJcy_CE/s1600-h/straw_dogs_ver2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397911926888987682" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/Suk8TFMP_CI/AAAAAAAAAEo/nzXUiJcy_CE/s400/straw_dogs_ver2.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 264px;" /></a><br />
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Straw Dogs</b> <span style="font-weight: bold;">(1971)</span><br />
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</b>Director: Sam Peckinpah<br />
Screenplay: David Zelag Goodman, Sam Peckinpah<br />
Players: Dustin Hoffman, Susan George, Dal Henney, David Warner, Peter Vaughan<br />
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One of the stand-out films in a decade packed with memorable releases Straw Dogs ran into trouble right out of the gate. The movie was violent as hell, yes indeed, but violence has never really been that much of an issue for censors. The real controversy revolved around sexual violence towards the female lead, British actress Susan George, in a highly charged rape scene. As a result <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Straw Dogs</span> was banned in the UK and gained notoriety for all the wrong reasons. Viewed today, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Straw Dogs</span> is remarkable for many reasons. Its study of intellect versus brute strength and man's inherently violent nature is still highly fascinating. The superb editing, score and effective use of location ratchets up the tension to almost unbearable levels. Dustin Hoffman and Susan George both deliver career-defining performances. An intensely visceral experience that once seen will not be forgotten in a hurry. The cinematic equivalent of a kick in the groin.Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2062530868863398539.post-19088729688223412912009-10-23T04:43:00.000-07:002010-11-12T00:38:30.875-08:00THE COEN BROTHERS - Crazy like the Ferret<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SuGdQbbNuPI/AAAAAAAAACo/rg-zwdSeDhc/s1600-h/Coen+brothers.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" height="262" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395766734131935474" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SuGdQbbNuPI/AAAAAAAAACo/rg-zwdSeDhc/s400/Coen+brothers.jpg" style="display: block; height: 210px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Joel Coen (L) and Ethan Coen (R) : One directs, the other writes. But which does which?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;"><b>The</b></span> Coen Brothers have managed what is usually an extremely difficult task in the high pressure world of movie-making. In most cases directors start off making cool movies that get earn critical praise, get people talking and get the attention of the Hollywood heavies. Said heavies then proceed to co-opt them into the system and crush any maverick spirit or creative spice that made their movies interesting in the first place (case study: John Woo). The Coens, however, have somehow managed to avoid the trap of sacrificing their obvious talent for the big money deals, retaining their independence and unique qualities that endeared them to lovers of independent cinema and other fanboy geeks. In the process they have managed to keep churning out critically lauded flicks that somehow also earn them enough money so they can retain creative control of their next project. A rare animal indeed in today's bottom line driven world.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SuGe3w1I1_I/AAAAAAAAACw/Qoc2jfEkdMo/s1600-h/millers_crossing.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395768509404338162" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SuGe3w1I1_I/AAAAAAAAACw/Qoc2jfEkdMo/s320/millers_crossing.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 214px;" /></a><br />
<b>Miller's Crossing</b> (1990)<br />
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Director: Joel Coen<br />
Screenplay: Ethan Coen<br />
Players: Gabriel Byrne, Marcia Gay Harden, Albert Finney, John Turturro, Jon Polito<br />
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There are occasions when one has a transcendental experience in a movie house, much like some people experience in churches. For me this happened when I caught <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Miller's Crossing</span> on its commercial release. I didn't know much about the Coen brothers then. I had seen the trailer for the movie and knew I had to see it. It was one of those perfect movie-going experiences when the theatre is near empty, the projectionist was in his booth to make sure the film was loaded properly (a rare occurrence nowadays) and I was in the right frame of mind to watch something meaty.<br />
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As the movie opens and the hat is picked up by the wind and blown into the distance and the music swells, I realised <i style="font-weight: bold;">Miller's Crossing</i> was going to be something special. What I didn't know is that it would prove to be the beginning of a life-long love affair with the movies of the Coen brothers. It was so rare to see a film that fairly bristled with intelligence and looked as if the people who made it were truly in love with movies themselves.<br />
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The labyrinthine plot involving a mysterious individual who whispers in the ear of a local Irish mob boss is loosely based on the Dashiell Hammett novel<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><i style="font-weight: bold;">The Glass Key</i>. But in addition to literature the Coens were also pouring dozens of movies into the mixing bowl, chiefly gangster flicks from the 20s and 30s where guys like James Cagney spoke in rapid-fire and blasted dirty coppers with their tommy guns, always getting their just desserts in the end. Of course, when asked why they'd made <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Miller's Crossing</span>, the Coens replied with the deadpan humour that would become their trademark that they'd always wanted to make a movie where everyone wears a hat. Hence the hat becomes a central icon in the film, the sort of running joke they delight in.<br />
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Resplendent with rich art production, costumes, set design and fantastic photography from their long-time collaborator Roger Deakins, MC is so chock full of vivid characters its hard to know where to begin. Gabriel Byrne and Marcia Gay Harden are both flawless in the lead roles and their snappy dialogue is one of the highlights of the marvellously dense script. Each supporting character is perfectly etched. From Albert Finney's blustery Irish blarney as Leo to John Turturro's slimy unctuousness as Bernie Bernbaum to woefully under-used character actor Jon Polito as the demented Italian mobster, Johnny Caspar - there is much to enjoy.<br />
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Throw in a bit of bed and gunplay and even some sterling advice on how to get a really close shave and you have a piece of timeless art that never loses its appeal.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SuGbJOJZecI/AAAAAAAAAB4/qAQy6WxWYhc/s1600-h/hudsucker_proxy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395764411285207490" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SuGbJOJZecI/AAAAAAAAAB4/qAQy6WxWYhc/s320/hudsucker_proxy.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 222px;" /></a><br />
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The Hudsucker Proxy</b> (1994)<br />
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Director: Joel Coen<br />
Screenplay: Ethan Coen<br />
Players: Tim Robbins, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Paul Newman<br />
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Long before The Coen Brothers were a household name and racking up little golden statues on a regular basis, they were obscure geniuses who made movies that true cinephiles hoarded like Easter eggs. Following on from <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Miller's Crossing</span>, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Hudsucker Proxy</span> was meant to be the brothers' big commercial debut. It was supposed to make lots of money but for some reason it disappeared from view with barely a murmur. Which is something of a mystery as <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Hudsucker</span> is a tremendous entertainment, no matter how you slice it. Possibly the Coens' most upbeat film tonally it features several superb comedic performances, notably Tim Robbins as loveable goof Norville Barnes, Paul Newman as the villain and a crackerjack turn from Jennifer Jason Leigh (furiously channeling Katherine Hepburn) as Amy Archer. The script is Coen brothers at their most playful and the yucks flow fast and furious. The sets are superbly realised and the spoofing of the 1950s is a sheer delight. Good comedies are much harder to make than anything else and <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Hudsucker Proxy</span> is one of the finest ever.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SuGbgYJMMoI/AAAAAAAAACA/v7Xg0Nka7F8/s1600-h/fargo.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395764809105683074" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SuGbgYJMMoI/AAAAAAAAACA/v7Xg0Nka7F8/s320/fargo.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 214px;" /></a><br />
<b>Fargo </b>(1996)<br />
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Director: Joel Coen<br />
Screenplay: Ethan Coen<br />
Players: William H Macy, Frances McDormand, Steve Buscemi, Peter Stormare<br />
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1997 would prove to be the year of the big breakthrough for the Coens. <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Fargo</span> would go on to win several Academy awards, including best actress for Frances McDormand and best screenplay. It picked up another five nominations including best picture, best cinematography, best editing and best supporting actor for William H Macy in addition to a total of 50 other awards around the world. The Coens may well have been puzzled by all the fuss over what is in many ways a far less dazzling picture than the two that came before it, but <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Fargo</span> has many quieter attractions of its own. The frozen winter setting of Minnesota (not to mention the bizarre accents), the banal nature of the horrific crimes committed by the two kidnappers, and of course, the stand-out performances by McDormand and Macy, not to mention Peter Stormare and Coen staple Steve Buscemi all add up to a perfect little cocktail, laced through by the blackest of black humour.<br />
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<b>The Big Lebowski</b> (1998)<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SuGbzQaVOWI/AAAAAAAAACI/HWHpE7rP5Yo/s1600-h/big_lebowski_ver1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395765133447608674" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SuGbzQaVOWI/AAAAAAAAACI/HWHpE7rP5Yo/s320/big_lebowski_ver1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 217px;" /></a><br />
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Director: Joel Coen<br />
Screenplay: Ethan Coen<br />
Players: Jeff Bridges, John Goodman, Steve Buscemi, Julianne Moore, David Huddleston<br />
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Its hard to be objective about <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Big Lebowski</span>, one of my all time favourites. Settling in to watch it is like catching up with great and slightly crazy friends you haven't seen in years. Featuring two of the most immortal idiots ever created for the big screen, the Coens created a comedy that is so passionately loved, hordes of fans get together every year in the USA to celebrate it at an event called Lebowski Fest, where they dress up as characters from the film, bowl a few rounds and drink vast quantities of White Russian beverages. Suffice to say it is near impossible to resist the charms of the Dude and Walter as they bumble their way through life. Jeff Bridges and John Goodman are just outstanding in their roles and every detail of their characterizations is perfect. As usual there is a bizarre collection of supporting characters including a gang of Swedish nihilists, a soulful pornographer, a performance artist stroke landlord, a fine artist who's work has strong vaginal content and a philosopher cowboy. There's never been anything else like it - before or since - and there probably never will be.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SuGcrhb8AbI/AAAAAAAAACY/Q51Q9DK1Cn8/s1600-h/intolerable_cruelty.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395766100090421682" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SuGcrhb8AbI/AAAAAAAAACY/Q51Q9DK1Cn8/s320/intolerable_cruelty.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 214px;" /></a><br />
<b>Intolerable Cruelty </b>(2003)<br />
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Director: Joel Coen<br />
Screenplay: Ethan Coen<br />
Players: George Clooney, Catherine Zeta Jones, Richard Jenkins, Cedric the Entertainer, Julia Duffy, Geoffrey Rush<br />
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At first glance <i style="font-weight: bold;">Intolerable Cruelty</i> doesnt seem like a typical Coen brothers movie at all. With its 'rom-com' vibe and disgustingly good-looking leads, it seems like the Coens had sold out to the studios and were chasing the big bucks like everyone else. Oh ye of little faith! If anything <i style="font-weight: bold;">Intolerable Cruelty</i> is one of the most enjoyable Coen flicks since <i style="font-weight: bold;">Hudsucker Proxy</i>. Set among the shark-infested waters of Los Angeles' divorce lawyers, <i style="font-weight: bold;">Intolerable Cruelty</i> is as cynical a rom-com as you'd ever expect to see, with Catherine Zeta Jones excelling as the professional gold-digger who eventually falls for divorce attorney Miles Massey, played with great comedic zest by the disgustingly good-looking AND talented George Clooney. The script is packed with gems and repeated viewings are necessary to catch every little barb and quip. It is also rich with highly entertaining supporting roles by the likes of Geoffrey Rush, Richard Jenkins, Billy Bob Thornton, Cedric the Entertainer and Julia Duffy, not to forget Jonathan Hadary as the inimitable 'Heinz the Baron Krauss von Espy'. Whenever I need a belly laugh, I simply pop this or <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Lebowski</span> into the machine and sit back - the results are guaranteed.<br />
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<b>No Country for Old Men </b>(2007)<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SuGdCS_dY4I/AAAAAAAAACg/E8VcfH-B8hk/s1600-h/no_country_for_old_men.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395766491349869442" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NeTPNYewpkg/SuGdCS_dY4I/AAAAAAAAACg/E8VcfH-B8hk/s320/no_country_for_old_men.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 218px;" /></a><br />
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Director: Joel Coen<br />
Screenplay: Ethan Coen<br />
Players: Josh Brolin, Tommy Lee Jones, Javier Bardem, Kelly McDonald, Woody Harrelson<br />
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A few years would pass before the Coens achieved similar success to <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Fargo</span>. This time they would take a story from literary giant Cormac McCarthy that seemed custom made for them. The Coens profess a great love for the speech rhythms of the deep South and Texas in particular, which was one of their motivations for wanting to film this novel. Set in the bone dry wastelands of east Texas <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">NCFOM</span> is indeed replete with some truly wondrous accents. The Coens also make the most of the scenery, their long time collaborator Roger Deakins rising to the occasion to deliver some beautifully rendered landscapes, among other desolate scenes of motels, trailer parks and other familiar features of Texas' vast open spaces. <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">NCFOM</span> also yielded one of cinema's great villains, Anton Chigurh. Played with utter conviction by the great Spanish actor Javier Bardem, Chigurh marches through the movie like the Terminator with a funny haircut, using a pneumatic cattle gun and a silenced 12 gauge to carve a path of destruction a mile wide. <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">No Country</span> reaped awards aplenty at the Academy awards, including the much coveted Best Picture and catapulted the Coens from critical darlings to major A-list heavies.Mark Crozierhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13277809295417575255noreply@blogger.com0