Ten New Songs - Leonard Cohen (Album)

Sorry I missed posting last week. I had my reasons.

You are probably familiar with one or more renditions of the song "Hallelujah." You know, the one that starts "I heard there was a secret chord..."? But in all likelihood you have never heard the original version, or anything sung by the song's writer, Leonard Cohen. If you are not acquainted  ith Cohen beyond having heard that one song, it may surprise you to know he has been inducted into the American Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the Canadian Music Hall of Fame, and the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame. He is also a Companion of the Order of Canada, which Wikipedia ensures me is Canada's highest civilian honor.

"Who is this guy?" you might wonder, "And why have I never really heard of him?" Well, I don't know why you've never heard of him. Lack of good breeding probably has something to do with it. I first heard of Mr. Cohen in Nirvana's "Pennyroyal Tea," where Cobain asks--rather inexplicably--for a "Leonard Cohen afterbirth."

While he is perhaps best know for his writing of "Hallelujah," the 78 year-old singer/songwriter has been an active musician industry for the last five decades, and yes, he's still active to this day. He's written hundreds of songs, some as good as Hallelujah, and a great deal of them even better. His career is too big to cover in one blog post, but allow me to say that in the time he's been writing he has inspired thousands of artists and explored many different artistic venues.

One cannot help but compare his early albums with Dylan, but for the last twenty years or so he has utilized the feeling, mood, and instrumentation typical of southern gospel music, mixed with a dark folksiness that is all his own. Specifically, I want to draw your attention to his 2001 album Ten New Songs, which performed well in many countries, and went platinum in Canada and Poland (for some reason). In my opinion, this is almost a perfect album. Each song resonates. There are no thrown-away lines, or songs to fill the space between singles. Two solid years of production went into the album, and it shows.

Unfortunately, it has lost a lot of ground since it was released. Have you ever heard of it ? Probably not. This is an album to listen to with closed eyes, examining each word, then allowing them to wash over you. Cohen's voice is present on each track, but so is his group of gospel singers, which have been seamlessly incorporated into the music.

Cohen is a devout Jew, as well as an ordained Buddhist monk. He is a man of wisdom, and important truths are constantly explored, abandoned, forgotten, learned, and accepted throughout the body of this album. Everything seems effortless here. It is not an album that is trying to accomplish something, it simply does. I recommend listening to it about a dozen times. The songs are at times catchy, but there's a lot more going on here, and I challenge you to find it.

-MA 7.22.2013

Fiends - John Farris (Novel)

I'll be honest with you, dear reader, I'm having trouble starting this review. I'm tempted to tell you everything I know about Mr. Farris as a way to set the stage for my conflicting feelings about him, but as I began the task I realized that he's a difficult man to write about.

He's in his late seventies now, presumably not dead, although his Wikipedia page is rather unhelpful. If you were to go to a used bookstore right now and thumb to the "Also By John Farris" page near the front of whichever of his books you may find banished in the basement you might be lead to believe that his first novel was a shortish thriller/horror called "All Heads Turn When the Hunt Goes By" published in 1977. That would seem to make sense. His books would appear to fit nicely in the Horror genre, and a shortish novel is par for the course for an author's first book. There's just a small problem with that, though: by 1977 John Farris was already an established author, known for his Southern Gothic novels. His work actually spans back to the mid-fifties, having finished his first novel, Harrison High, (a fairly massive work tackling the then fledgling issue of crime committed by middle-class American youth) at the ripe old age of eighteen.

I guess what I'm trying to say--or at least cleverly illustrate--is that there's more to the professional Farris than a quick perusal of his work on the shelf will show. I could go on--oh, believe me I could--and tell you all about his various impacts in the industry (Stephen King practically wanted to be this guy when he grew up), but I think for my purposes that is enough. Obviously, reading a book or books by any given author is not enough to really "know them," but a reader will at least get a sense of the writer through their work. We understand a little bit about how they see the world, where injustice, excitement, and triumph lie on their personal maps, but with Farris I'm confused. One moment he seems filled with humanity, a great love for people, perhaps even a trust in people, the next moment he throws down a block of gory, detached, almost hateful prose as the characters we have grown to care for are torn apart without even the faintest feeling of sadness. On this page his politics seem conservative and rural, the next he is as liberal as a lesbian abortion specialist. Consider two passages, both from novels by Farris:

"That was a good summation you made at the school, Amy. You put together what we knew, and what we suspected, and what we hoped was true, you put it all together beautifully and it sounded good. But it wasn't the whole truth, because the truth is even more grotesque. We have to let it out though, Amy. We have to let it breath."

Do you hear the power of his writing? The simplicity and honesty of it? Now, the same man wrote this. The girl in the passage is fifteen, the man is in his thirties. They have never met before, but he knows who she is and is there to rescue her. She is wearing a hospital gown, so she is all but nude:

"[She] struck at him, then flinched when he brought his hand back. He kissed her instead, tenderly and with as much lust as he thought she might be familiar with at her age. [She] found this new approach confusing, shocking and indefensible, and as she grew slack in his arms gradually the kiss became a comfort to her. With his own eyes closed [He] readily lost awareness of her youth; the snug pressure of her uncovered c*** against his body was mature enough, even insinuating."

Ummm, what? Really? Really? That's how he's deciding to deal with this scene? Confusing to say the least.  Perhaps most jarring is his polar interest in literature and spectacle. What does he want these books to be? Page-turners? Allegories? Transcendent compositions? I'm really not sure. Some of the books are transcendent (and we'll get to one of those in a moment), but others...others seem only to exist as vehicles for action and weird ideas.

I realize The Fury was a big hit when it came out, but against his other books I'm happy to see the romp disintegrate into the past. It is a book I read then promplty disposed of mentally. It didn't touch me. It didn't even seem to try. I'm confused by its success, where so many other books of his are largely unknown.

I have no right saying this, as I know the man not at all, but I feel like even he does not have a clear vision of what he's trying to achieve. In this, I think, he is not so much an artist as a creator. There's certainly a connection between the two, but the difference (at least for my uses now) is that the creator creates in order to create, whereas the artist creates in order to have great art. Are his books great art? Yes, at least some of them. Is that the point? Maybe not.

This is much better than the cover of the version I have.

This brings us to one that was great: Fiends. The worst thing about it, regrettably, is the melodramatic title, but I guess that comes with the territory. As I read Fiends I was touched. Not just by the plight of the characters, though I was drawn in completely by them, by also by the possibility the art itself presents. This is art. Real art. Perfect as Horror, but equally compelling as pure fiction. Fiends is not about anything you typically find in a horror story, but there is a familiar sense to the creatures here. The huldufólk are from Icelandic myth, and are--as presented here--terrifying. 

This is an usual book. I've read a few reviews of it in which readers were disappointed, having expected something else. I'll tell you what you should expect going in to Farris' Fiends: nothing. Take the high road in your reading for this one. View it as a performance of writing and story-telling more than as some kind of packaged plot. Let our protagonist, the overweight, confident, and strong-willed Marjory, take you into her private self and through her nightmare journey beginning with the kindly--if confused--old man, Art.

This is a book to take in slowly, thoughtfully. That's not to say it isn't exciting or that it doesn't beg you to turn the next page, because it does. What I'm saying is that there is something here beyond the typical. Beyond trying to scare you or excite you or turn you on. I know I have a tendency to exaggerate the quality to work reviewed here, but I'm not going to apologize or even try to correct it when I say that I can't find the words to describe what I find so brilliant about this book. It is, to me, a secret gem buried in-between the passages. I only hope by giving instructions for reading that what I found in it will also reveal itself to you.

My final word to you on this is one I've expressed before: many of the best works ever created are not about what happens next.

-MA 07.08.2013

PS - And yes, I know I've talked about Farris before on this blog, but I chose not to refer to it as I've expanded my knowledge and feelings about his since then, and I feel that my review of Endless Night was inadequate to say the least.

Upstream Color - Carruth (Movie)

The intriguing poster
depicting the best moment in the film.

Welcome to Upstream Color, the second film by Shane Carruth. The first film was Primer, which I have reviewed on this blog as well. I'm locked in a battle with myself right now, trying to decide if I want to say that Upstream Color is my new favorite movie. I'm not sure if I'm ready to say that, as I've only seen it twice as opposed to the dozen-and-a-half or so views I've got under my belt for Primer, but it's safe to say that this is one of my favorite films of all time.

It's impossible to deal effectively with this film without referring to Primer, although the films are not actually in any kind of continuity with one another. However, it's clear that they are of the same school, namely the School of Carruth. It's not at all imperative to watch Primer before Upstream Color, but I recommend it. I do not believe Color would have been possible without Primer.

Like Primer, Color is a complex and provocative film. Intentionally confusing, the movie dares you to figure it out. Also like Primer (as well as another notable film that's been reviewed), this is not a movie you watch at the end of the day to unwind and have fun. (Goodbye half of the article's readers.) It's not the kind of movie you watch with a group of your buddies so you can laugh and chat over the film. If you hope to get anything out of Color, you're going to need to give it your full attention. And that is the main point I want to hit on today. This is a film that asks for your full attention, and really delivers.

Gross.

Too often, I fear, we as art intakers like what we like because we like it, not because it will enlarge or enrich us. I've said this (or something like it) before: there's more possible for art than we give art credit for. We live in a society of quick satisfaction. A world of "if it feels good do it." Now, I'm not saying there isn't a time and a place for relaxing or just good old-fashion fun. Of course there is. There is also a time and a place for being pushed around. For work. For giving up something for something better. That is the invitation extended by films like Upstream Color. It isn't easy to figure out. Nothing is given to the viewer on a silver platter. The scenes shift from one moment to the next in a disconcerting flash of colors and sounds. There are textures here. There are layers and layers of meaning.

You'll notice I haven't mentioned the plot or premise. This movie is about a pig farm. If that doesn't satiate your curiosity, then why not just watch the film? It's on Netflix right now. I, of course, suggest not looking up anything more about this film until after you've watched it.

What'd I tell you?

Watch it. Then watch it again. Marvel at how much you are being engaged. How much you are thinking. Don't expect to have fun (although you might)--expect to learn. This movie could just about give you a headache if you're not careful, not that I recommend caution here. Here is a film you give yourself to in at least some small way. This is an experimental film that pushes the edges a little. It doesn't really feel like just a movie. It is a philosophy. It is a performance. It is a living painting. But, perhaps above all this, it is a challenge.

Before wrapping up I feel it would be a mistake to not mention how excellent the acting is (especially from our leading lady Amy Seimetz), the cinematography, and Carruth's ability to be indulgent without ruining everything. In my own writing, this is something I envy greatly. Oh yes, I should also mention that as with Primer Carruth wrote, directed, produced, starred in, and composed the music for this film. Pretty sweet.

Alright, go to.

-MA 07.01.2014

One Too Many Mornings - Dylan (Song)

 

Dylan is too big, too mythic perhaps, for me to try to tackle in his entirety here (not that I would even be qualified for such an endeavor). So instead I have chosen just one out of his hundreds of excellent tracks to cast a little light on. That light, of course, being my opinion about it, as well as the implied (and usually stated) seal of approval that comes just from being on this blog in the first place.

Coming on his third record at the beginning of the fame plateau he was to cross for decades to come, "One Too Many Mornings" has it's place as classic Dylan, but there's more to this song than that. It stands on its own as an interesting example of minimalist folk. It is "folk" in many ways: the lack of dynamics, the simplicity of structure (both lyrically and musically), but perhaps most of all it echos the very heart of folk music's aim: to voice the inner thoughts and feelings of the common individual.

Folk music could be literally interpreted as "people" music, and rightfully so. Dylan knows this and here it shines through perhaps more so than in his (arguably) more influential politically charged songs. This is a song for anyone who has ever felt worn out by life, anyone who has felt tired and sad and impotent. This does not cross political or ideological lines, it doesn't have to. In the universe of this one track the differences in individuals are even more basic than that. "You are right from your side. I'm right for mine," could be a phrase championing understanding and empathy if it were in another context, but here it carries with it a hopelessness--a feeling that the issues will not and cannot be resolved.

It is a lonely song, despite the lover spoken of, despite the mellowness. It offers no answer to these empty feelings, but simply acknowledges and expresses them. It accepts them, end of story. The harmonica isn't really going anywhere, it's just kind of...hanging around, sawing back and forth somewhat playfully but without real aim, filling in the spaces between stanzas. The main picking riff of the guitar does about as much for the song, if not less. It is simply a stage on which this one aspect of life plays out, then quickly fades away. At the end of this acceptance, perhaps we can start looking for ways to be rejuvenated, maybe we can find meaning in our relationships and trials and opinions, but I think the song is suggesting that first we have to just say, "This is how I feel. Other people have felt this way. Okay."

Happy listening.

-MA 6.17.13

----------------------------------------

Down the street the dogs are barking and the day is getting dark.
As the night comes in a-falling the dogs lose their bark.
And the silent night will shatter from the sounds inside my mind;
Cause I'm one too many mornings and a thousand miles behind.

From the crossroads of my doorstep my eyes start to fade
As I turn my head back to the room where my love and I have laid.
And I gaze back to the street, the sidewalk and the sign,
And I'm one too many mornings and a thousand miles behind.

It's a restless hungry feeling, I don't mean no one no good.
When everything I'm saying, you can say it just as good.
You are right from your side. I'm right from mine.
We're both just too many mornings and a thousand miles behind. 

Aban Hawkins & the 1000 Spikes - 8bits Fanatics (Video Game)

He's even hotter than Harrison Ford!

I've been wanting to write about this game for a while, but what with the new systems being launched and the relative disinterest in the indie games on Xbox, I thought maybe its time had passed. Recently, however, a friend of mine sent me an article explaining how Aban Hawkins is getting another shot at life on the Wii U, so I had to jump on the opportunity to tell you all I loved it first.

Well, love/hate is probably a more accurate term to describe my relationship with Aban Hawkins. Love, because it is one of the most tightly-designed, true-to-form 2D platforming titles I have ever had the pleasure of playing. Hate, because this game is harder than an ultra-diamond. I don't know what an ultra-diamond is exactly, and maybe that's because I just made it up, but you can bet an ultra-diamond would be really hard.

The dollar I spent on Aban Hawkins & the 1000 Spikes has the special distinction of being one of the most well-spent dollars of my lifetime. You are a treasure-hunter named Aban Hawkins. You have 1,000 lives. Throughout the game I estimate you get maybe 500 more, but that's it. If you run out of lives, the game ends and you have to start over (or simply throw away your Xbox, as the case may be). 1,500 lives might sound like plenty, but once you realize a single level easily can eat over a hundred, you start to realize that it's a scant ration. To give you an idea of this difficulty, I'll tell you how many lives I ended up beating the game with: eight. I've never been so proud. Every enemy, and nearly every obstacle, represents instant death if touched. There are some traps you cannot know about until after they have killed you. You are basically required to memorize the levels in as few runs as possible, executing your knowledge perfectly. One difficult pitfall might be responsible for thirty or so lives. You may need to resist the urge to throw the controller through the screen on occasion.

The game does indeed have many spikes.

The game starts you off in a wonderful Engrish tutorial which explains one of the key functions of the game: two different jumps. You must learn to utilize these two jumps and your ability to throw knives to navigate the ancient temples where Hawkins hopes to make his fortunes. The tutorial is quirky and weird, and gives a glimpse inside the mind of the game's twisted creators. They encourage you to "be the gamer," meaning that you should save every time you are done playing (even if all you accomplished was throwing some lives away). They also explain that "here is no checkpoint" because checkpoints make you weak and prevent you from being "the gamer."

Just looking at this shot is giving me PTSD-style flashbacks.

Anyone who is a game purest will find their home here, and not just because of the quaint 8-bit graphics, but also in the way these levels have been so carefully crafted. The creators know where your head is, it seems, and push you (as a potential "the gamer") to the very edge of what you would be willing to put up with. The reward--a shower of coins you can't spend and gems you can't sell--comes at the end of the game. But the real reward, of course, is just having conquered the thing. The beast.

Good luck!

-MA 6.11.13

She & Him Volume 3 - She & Him (Album)

In doing my research for this week's post, I learned a little about Matt Ward: There is always something interesting going on to his right.

She & Him is the stage name of musical duo Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward; perhaps you've heard of them. I was a fan of both celebrities before they formed this group, and I remember being surprised when I first found out they had teamed up. I liked Deschanel because I thought she was pretty (although that attractiveness lessened severely with each new terrible film she was in), and I was basically in love with Ward (artistically speaking, of course) for his inspired albums. Maybe one day we'll look at Hold Time on here, which (interestingly or otherwise) also features Deschanel. What I'm trying to say is, I've been a fan of She & Him since their first album. Really I could have done any and all of them.

Am I right?

I hate to say this, but I just can't get behind Deschanel as an actress. Not that she isn't capable, but her talents are largely wasted. She's in too many shallow and dumb-A movies/TV shows. You can disagree with me if you like, but I figure if you're reading this blog you are entitled to my opinion. I was pleased to find that I could stand behind her 100% as a song writer though. Aside from the covers, she writes all of the She & Him songs, and I think they're top notch. Ranging from catchy and fun (I Could Have Been Your Girl) to having real depth (London, Take it Back.)

Or am I right?

I'm reviewing only the third album, however, because I believe it is the most fully realized of the set. The songs are likable, but you may notice upon first listening that they sound a little off kilter or even lackluster. This is because--unlike so much of the music that comes out today--this album is not "tuned" for modern ears. A lot of albums that come out these days jump on on the bandwagon of "right now" engineering. This has a few effects: 1) it causes new music to sound "preferable" to many people, and 2) it makes that same music eventually sound dated*, sometimes in as little as five or six years. She and Him Volume 3 is something of a revolution against this idea. This is not an album written for today, or (possibly even worse) for tomorrow; this is an album written to be timeless. There is an effortless quality to the singing which may sound to some listeners like Deschanel lacks energy. Please see this as a deliberate stylistic choice, meant to allow the song to breathe and live for itself. It is art like a painting or a fine poem, not merely a performance of music.

Right...

Now, I know what some of you are thinking: it does sound dated, but maybe in a good way. Is that possible? What you probably mean is that these songs harken back to a "classic" era of music, namely the acoustic pop songs of the late fifties to early seventies, and of course you'd be correct. But the influence of these songs is not so much what I'm talking about. What I mean is more subtle, and will probably only interest people who pay close attention to how albums are recorded, and not only the structure of the songs, the lyrics, and the vocal style. Not everyone realizes how big a difference a recording style can make. The percussion, the rhythm and lead guitars, the vocals, bass, keyboards, everything that's in a song--all these things have been recorded in certain tones and timbers. In high budget recordings (meaning basically everything that's not a demo or made by a local band) these tones can be laboriously engineered, agonized over even. They are as much a part of the sound as anything else. Consider, for example, the difference between this and this. These are both songs that start with power chords, which in theory should sound pretty much the same since they are just fifths, but they clearly sound quite different. Obviously there's other stuff going on here--the riffs are very different--but the tone is a big part of what you are hearing.

Right right**!

This is why I've chosen Volume 3 over either of the others, or all three in general. This album speaks to the best of my recording sensibilities. I know that tone is something Ward considers to be vital to a good recording, and that's clear here. I could provide copious examples track by track, but I won't. Just listen to the horns in Together and maybe you'll start to get my drift. The album isn't trying to pandering to the 2013 you, instead the album wants the real you to try to get to know it better, even if maybe right at first you kind of don't want to.

Or, if you require another simile, it is like a very hot hot tub. You know it's going to be good, but it takes some easing into. I'd take that over an album that feels good at first, but leaves me chattering my teeth ten minutes later, just wanting to get out and towel off.  Man, I don't know where that analogy came from but am I good or what?

-MA 6.3.2013

*For a wonderful example of how this trend can make even the most respectable artists sound like dog crap, see Leonard Cohen's "Closing Time." Throw a chair!

**Needle-nose Ned, Ned the Head, c'mon buddy! Case Western High!

My Memorial Day Recommendation

It's a holiday and I don't feel like writing a review. I recommend this one! I always felt it was one of my best, but not that many people have read it.

MA 5.27.13