King Leonidas addresses his men at Thermopylae

Leonidas: "Remember this day, as we fight and die. For we are now on the international stage. The world will remember us, but they must never, NEVER... know about our wierd and seedy marriage rituals."

Spartan: "My lord, but what of the bumming?"

Leonidas: "Oh, they've known about that for years. I cant let them know that my wedding night began with the shaving of the Queens head OK...I just can't."

Spartan2: "And the dressing her up like a man of course."

Leonidas: "Yes, AND the dressing her up as a man...we can't let them know about that either, not exactly heroic behaviour now is it?"

Spartan3: "Don't forget shoving her ritualistically into a darkened room sire."

Leonidas: "How could I ha ha ha, but yes you are right, they must never know of that either."

Spartan4: "How about when you bummed her?"

Leonidas: "I TOLD YOU, they already know about the bumming. Now lets all comb our beautiful hair so we can get on with this damn battle. DEATH TO THE PERSIANS."


There are few among the populace, who upon hearing there is an historical epic coming out on general release, rush to the bookcase and dig out Herodotus. I am one of those people. A movie like 300 offers to some, like me, an opportunity to view a representation of those most significant events in our world history. When something is based upon a real event, I like to put it in context. What were the ramifications of Thermoplylae, what events led to that battle? Who was that subject of Xerxes who beseeched him to leave one of his sons behind to tend his farm, and as a result of such audacity in the face of the God King, had to watch, while the Light of the Aryans marched his entire army (100,000 not 1 million) through the garotted and quartered corpse of sed son? There things are important, well... to me they are.

I went to see 300 fully aware that it was not going to be historically accurate, that the story belonged to Frank Miller, not Herodotus. That Director Zack Snyder had said in interviews that the fighting styles had been purposely altered in an attempt to make them look, well, cooler.
And cool they are. The movie has the look and feel of a graphic novel, complete with dramatic shadows and slo-mo shots lifted directly from the pages of Millers own imaginings. Those imaginings based themselves on the historically spot on "The 300 Spartans".

So we have a movie, based on a comic, based on a movie, based on historical fact. What is on offer in 300 is not the Thermopylae in the classics lectures, but a myth akin to that offered to Themistocles as he launched the crushing naval assault at Salamis, a victory that this defiant stand afforded him. This is history with feeling, told not through the eyes of an analytical mind recording and conveying fact, but through artistry, painting what is tantamount to a portrait of courage and sacrifice personified.

Pianted indeed, green and blue screen are used to full effect. The movie is replete with sweeping Grecian landscapes and the imposing setting of "The Hot Gates", all computerized. But the CGI is harmoniously combined with the live action sequences and not once did I find myself thinking that anything was artificially rendered. The violence is graphic, ambitiously and distractingly so, but even though there are sequences that draw ones attention to the fact that this owes heavily to the special effects department, the realistic portayal of the characters and the understated way in which the main players interact, tie so strongly with the backdrop that it is never questioned. The dialogue seems unimportant as the visuals lead you, and often it is in this dialogue that the movie falters. When it seems at times a collection of throwaway lines from Braveheart ,unconvincingly extolling the virtues of this venture which, to my mind at least, never needed justification. Gerard Butler is at his best when silent, and brooding, his beard a magnificent thing to behold as he stands ready, volunteering to die.

It is little wonder that reviewers worldwide got a sour taste in their mouths with this movies representation of a soldier with such a mindset. That it touched a chord in those so aware of the current political climate that they could not seperate this movies representation of a clash between East and West, of freedom and slavery, with current upheavals in the Middle East. Halfway through it all seemed somewhat in bad taste, bad timing if nothing else. I too could not escape the feeling that Leonidas' defiance of the politicoes may have represented something deeper, and dirtier. That the placement of heavy guitar riffs at certain dramatic peaks within the film and the genuine expendability of the Persian army (themselves slaves not soldiers of choice) seemed to resonate and expound the same virtues of resiliance in face of such unwarranted onslaught as the Whitehouse press releases. I had thoughts of those caught in Bushs newest surge and cringed.

But then this is a movie, a war movie. And although one may question the acceptability of this variety of entertainment when people are fighting and dying in the heart of what was once Xerxes domain, one would would have to similarily bring in to question the timing and message of the majority of John Wayne films. Of course this movie glorifies Leonidas and his men, of course it fucking does. A`plaque is not enough for a name now more synonymous with Belgian chocolate than the turning point in a war that, if lost, would have erased the influence of Greek culture forever. The magnitude of the Spartans accompishment is such, the dent they put in this seemingly unstoppable force of overt aggression so great, that Xerxes would not honour Leonidas' dead body. He broke from tradition and had the Spartan king decaptated, then crucified the headless body. Something to remember when you see Gerard Butler, chest full of arrows, his men dead, rush forward in defiance.

The Spartans were often painted in a negative light by their Athenian counterparts. Their mistreatment of women and reliance on the neighbouring Helot slaves have somehow rendered them inferior to their mysoginistic, slavemongering philosopher cousins. But the Spartan oligarchy lived and breathed war, worshipped Aries and embraced the concept of a noble death as something earned. The movie 300 is ingenious because without any knowledge of the facts you can become quickly immersed in one hell of a tale, because Miller and now Sneider have created a visually stunning representation of an event always destined for exaggeration and artistic licence. The greatest thing about this movie however, is the fact that it remembers those 300 men, clad only in loin cloths that successfully repelled the advances of the largest army that had been assembled in their history. Question the timing all you want, balls never go out of fashion.

To All The Killers And The 100 Dollar Billas

Time has not been kind to the members of Mobb Deep. After releasing a string of classic albums in the nineties, the Queensbridge duo of Prodigy and Havoc have struggled this decade, diluting their sound in response to waning commercial fortunes and seeing old rival Jay-Z rise to undreamt of heights. Their signing to 50 Cent's G-Unit label proved to be the final nail in the coffin, with last year's Blood Money being a rather lame attempt to fit their distinctive talents into an album of club-friendly and guest-heavy 50 cast-off tracks. In truth, the duo never really recovered from Jay's diss on "The Takeover" in 2001, where he memorably ridiculed them for being short-arses and revealed Prodigy's childhood predeliction for ballet. Back in 95' though, with the release of their second album The Infamous they were one of the groups at the forefront of a new kind of gritty, street-level rap, and "Shook Ones Part II" still stands as one of the essential artifacts of early nineties hip-hop. Prodigy and Havoc may have met at Manhattan's prestigious High School of Art and Design (Previous alumni include Calvin Klein and Tony Bennett, fact fans!), but you wouldn't know it from this track, where they play the cold-eyed thugs to perfection. Havoc was one of the great exponents of the sparse, minimal sound that the RZA pioneered on Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) and "Shook Ones" is one of his most striking productions. Pared down to the absolute essential elements, the track is built around a sinuous guitar lick, filled out with almost subliminal bass hits, cavernous, echoing drums and intermittent bursts of synth noise. Over this suitably cinematic backing, Prodigy coolly lays out the group's brutal philosophy, if something as simplistic can even be called such. In essence, there's Mobb Deep and there's the rest of the world, the "halfway crooks" of the title. Prodigy's opening verse remains one of the best in hip-hop, as he informs us in casually chilling fashion: "Im only nineteen but my mind is old/And when the things get for real my warm heart turns cold/Another nigga deceased, another story gets told/It aint nothin really." The verse ends with a comforting piece of advice "Now, take these words home and think it through/Or the next rhyme I write might be about you" I mean Jay-Z may have pictures of the dude in a ballet costume, but would you fuck with him?

Mobb Deep - Shook Ones Part II

Hey, jetzt kommen die Hero-Turtles

So there's a new CGI Turtles movie out, but for some reason they've decided to call it "TMNT". I guess in today's fast-paced world people don't have time to say entire time to say entire four-word titles. (They've rechristened Reebok as RBK over here aswell. Street) Apparently this new one doesn't feature Shredder or Krang, so they won't be getting my hard-earned Canadian dollars. What with this and the Transformers movie (Although that's bound to be a clusterfuck of epic proportions considering Michael Bay's involvement) 2007 seems to be the year for resurrecting beloved cartoon franchises of my youth. Surely a "M.A.S.K." movie can't be too far away? Man, that would be sweet...

Starry-Eyed

Cortney Tidwell - Don't Let The Stars Keep Us Tangled Up (Ewan Pearson's Objects In Space Remix)
Remix of the year so far for me. Berlin-based English producer Ewan Pearson, fresh from helming a number of tracks on The Rapture's second album, reimagines this track from Nashville singer-songwriter and Bjork soundalike Cortney (that's how she spells it) Tidwell as "shoegazing space-disco." Pearson, taking a cue from his excellent Goldfrapp remix from last year, transforms the song into a spacey epic which unfurls gracefully over an unhurried twelve-minute running time. Retaining just a snatch of liquid country guitar from the original, he drapes it in a galaxy of fuzzy synths, clicks, and sonar bleeps which build layer by layer til the gravity of the thing becomes to much and it collapses in on itself, dissolving into a swirl of synths and Tidwell's wordless backing vocals. Cosmic.

LCD Soundsystem - Someone Great
LCD Soundsystem's new album Sound Of Silver, while still impressive, is more of a refinement of previous sounds than a staking out of new sonic territory. The album proves most effective when James Murphy drops his protective cloak of irony, (Most evident on lead-single "North American Scum" the latest in Murphy's series of "scene" tracks) as on the driving, piano-led nostalgia of "All My Friends" and the poignant "Someone Great." Recycling a section from Murphy's disco-centric 45 33' piece, "Someone Great" is a melancholy electro-shuffle, all pulsing keyboards and tinkling glockenspiel with a delicate, rueful vocal from Murphy. More heart, less hipness next-time please.

Gui Boratto - Like You (Supermayer Remix)
Kompakt label-head Michael Mayer and artist Superpitcher (who's a past master at this sort of downbeat minimal) team up for this remix of a tune by Brazilian producer Gui Boratto, who released his debut album Chromophobia last month (And mighty fine it is too). Riding a clipped synth line that's reminiscent of Superpitcher's classic remix of "The Difference It Makes" this one threatens to escape heavenward but remains firmly earthbound, creating a simmering tension that's retained throughout the track. Throw in some clattering old-skool breakdowns and a beautifully melancholy vocal from Boratto's wife Luciana Villanova and you've got a lovely slice of tear-jerking techno.

Avalanche Warning

Somehow i forgot to mention when i posted those mixes a couple of days ago, that The Avalanches are back! back! back! Yep, a mere six years since the sampleadelic Australians won us over with Since I Left You they've finally released some details about a new album. In a post on their official site they revealed that the as-yet untitled record "is so fuckin party you will die, much more hip hop than you might expect" and "much of last year (Hmm, what about the other five years lads?) was spent cutting up the spoken word/instructional records we need to tell the albums musical story, and we have some 40 odd songs we're narrowing down and finishing." They're also promising to post some new mixes soon and they've already put up a discotastic Wham/Digitalism mashup. This also gives me an excuse to post one my favourite remixes ever, where the lovable procastinating Aussies sprinkle some of their magic over "So Why So Sad", turning the Manic's rather leaden Beach Boys tribute into a phantasmagorical pop confection of the highest order.

Manic Street Preachers - So Why So Sad (Avalanches Sean Penn Mix)

And no, i don't know what connection this remix has to sour-faced political activist and occasional actor Sean Penn. Those crazy guys...

European Son

In the early 1970's Lou Reed was ingesting industrial ammounts of speed, shaving swastikas into his hair and making children cry on his albums. The twat. Meanwhile his fellow VU founder John Cale was producing classic albums by The Stooges, The Modern Lovers, and Patti Smith and collaborating with Nick Drake and Brian Eno. In the midst of all this, he also found time to write and record a succession of fantastic solo albums, the best of which was 1973's Paris 1919. A stately, haunting collection of baroque pop songs, there's a distinct classical feeling to many of the compositions on Paris 1919 but with an underlying pop sensibility that makes this perhaps Cale's most accessible album. The songs often resemble short-stories with their cryptic, allusive lyrics replete with references to Dylan Thomas, Shakespeare and Graham Greene. The central feeling of the album is one of dislocation, of being cut off from a beloved time or place and set adrift in a surreal, post-war vision of Europe. "A Child's Christmas In Wales" is a superficially jaunty piano-led tune with an underlying current of nostalgia for Cale's welsh childhood and "Andalucia" is a drifting, weightless ballad that floats along on delicate fingerpicked guitar. Paris 1919 [buy it here] was re-issued last year and in my opinion it's one of the most unusual and best pop albums of all time.

John Cale - A Child's Christmas In Wales

John Cale - Andalucia

Mixology

Some of my favourite mixes from the past year:

Booka Shade - Essential Mix 2/7/06
Berlin-based duo Walter Merziger and Arno Kammermeier had a great 2006, releasing a top album in Movements and recording this fantastic live/dj set for Radio 1. The mix portion includes Danish producer Trentemoller's banging 4/4 take on Aphex's by now canonical "Windowlicker," Thomas Schumacher's immense "Red Purple" and the Shade's own take on Ferris Bueller featured 80's anthem "Oh Yeah" by Yello. The real draw of their essential mix is the opening live portion however, where they rejig the best bits of their catalogue into a storming filler-free sixty minutes. Best Bit: The closing triple whammy of "Darko", "Mandarine Girl" and "Body Language/Cha" is an unstoppable slab of dancefloor destroying techno.

Shit Robot - Feburary 2006, Rocker 33 Stuttgart
DFA records have a host of free mixes available on their website from the past year, but the pick of the bunch is this offering from recent signing and Dublin native Marcus Lambkin AKA Shit Robot. Dodgy moniker aside, Mr Lambkin is an excellent producer and Dj and comes up trumps here with a squelchy acid-infused mix of favourites old and new. Best Bit: Rub N' Tug's remix of LCD Soundsytem gradually picking up the pace before morphing into the inexorable, rising bassline of Gui Boratto's "Arquipelago"

Jeffrey Mac - Mediations (In Dub)
From Houston DJ Jeffrey Mac, this is a sleek, propulsive, mix of minimal techno from the year past. Highlights include the head-on trancey rush of The Field's "Over The Ice" and the lush melodicism of Jesse Somfay and Pantha Du Prince. Best Bit: The spine-tingling moment when the ominous, percolating synths of The Knife's "Silent Shout" emerge gradually from Roman Flugel's killer remix of Radioslave's "My Bleep."

The Avalanches - Beats In Space Nov 2001
An oldie but goodie, from DFA cohort Tim Sweeney's consistently excellent radio show Beats In Space. Back in 2001 no one could touch the Avalanches' particular brand of pop alchemy, which they demonstrate here with a fantastic mix that takes in pop, hip-hop, techno and most things inbetween. Best Bit: When The Chemical Brothers "It Began In Africa" is rudely interrupted by the live version of Underworld's "Rez." The crowd goes wild, and deservedly so.

Paddy's Day

It was early. Johnny awoke upon a drool soaked pillow, face down. Unpeeling himself and forcing a stand he did the morning thing. He scratched. His ongoing battle with the eye goo was being fought and lost on the front line and as he lazily tissued out the majority he thought of the many times during the coming day in which someone would point it out. He was groggy and dry mouthed, and didn't give a shit. Fumbling around the floor for the same clothes he donned and patted the pockets for change. None. Thirteen crumpled fags were a huge consolation, remnants of a heavy night. He straightened one out sparked and drew big. His throat was raw and he felt dirty, this particular brand was the dirtiest and the heat in his lungs felt something like love.
He idly looked around his Spartan room for something to distract him, from the headache, from the vague but creeping guilt that swept over his sleepy body every stolen morning. There was silence in the house and it blanketed him with relief. If he was quiet he could slip out before the others awoke, calling in debts and brandishing dirty looks like knives. Borrowed books and comics littered the floor, filler for the alcohol free nights of occasion, of poverty. He flicked through a few pre-thumbed candidates but couldn't focus and more than ever felt the craving well up within him. Numb.
Johnny flipped on his coat in a practiced fashion, T-Bird or Fonzarelli, but no one was there to see or to care. Doing the double check for wallet keys phone and fags he stepped out the back door and carefully slid it back into place, minimum squeekage and he felt his heart flickering recede. the house was massive, knock down price because they all pretended to be upstanding, hard working, community orientated. He remembered the one watch meeting he had attended, booted and polished, fuck off smile and feigned interest in children. he had felt up the chairman's wife on the way to the toilets and she slipped him a spare key with a smile, her tights stained. With the fogies nodding off, or pontificating about punk kids he slipped out and left a lit firework in the hallway. he gave the key to a drunk and knowingly touched his nose.
Muffling laughter he slipped out the back way through the manicured gardens and watched the windows for signs of movement. It was early. There were none. Home stretch, bank machine, a begging phone call claiming molestation and robbery; off licence. Watching the flags double and triple in number as he neared the busier streets Johnny remembered the day that was in it. He thought fondly of cursing laughing children, drunkenly meandering through the crowds of indifferent adults screaming “I am batman". This was a day when anyone could disappear.
He collected himself and his money. Drinking in solitude by the pier; shrouded by shrubbery and the fact that no one was looking for him. There was a horrible freedom in that, one that echoed in him. Sounds of bands starting up and crowds gathering in the vicinity shook him a little so he smoke-waited for a while before braving the crowd. Friendly face spotting left him breathless so he ventured to a few of the hangouts in search of company. Eventually he started hitting the homesteads. Boys were everywhere, on couches, on floors and on windowsills. The bigger drinkers welcomed him open armed and bottle handed. The rest mustered up some booze fuelled enthusiasm handed out to any in-walker, cheersesque.
They drank for hours, all of them. Trips out were made but not prolongued, the streets were hell. Cowboy hats and fake beards cut like surf in the sea of green. One big hide the unhappy party. Inside was warmer, friendlier. They all wished each other well and laughed together. The vying for attention was apparent at times, no attempt more so than Johnny’s company starved own. But it was tolerable, friendly, funny. He liked the guys there. No ladies men but good skins. Music was played, songs were sung and drinks were sunk, and sunk, and sunk.
In the spirit there was some talk of Patrick, exposing the metaphor and the plain BS, none of it new. Romanticized spouting over Irishness in all its forms, a great nation of everything apparently. All the while outside, pensioners drank with the middle aged who drank with teens who drank with kids. Fiddles screeched. Bodrans thudded. Accordions sucked. Johnny felt the liquour hit him a few times then pull its punches. He kept soldiering with the best, the brightest. All would return to normalcy come Monday he thought. Looking at the foul tasting warm beer left in his hand. He counted the pennies and thought of the weekend. I'll find a way Johnny mused. I always do.

Birthday Champagne

(Act 1)

I have saved the champagne for my birthday; we open in a warmly lit sitting room with the TV on. We are dressed in ordinary contemporary clothing with the notable exceptions that Conor is wearing a top hat and I a monocle, everything else resembles a modern room.

Me: (accent of the British aristocracy) More champagne?
Conor: (in a similar but not as polished accent) You know, I think I shall.
Me: It is, after all, a special occasion.
Conor: Indeed.
(both glasses are refilled)
Me: (admiring the shine of the liquid-nonchalant) Did you read that article in the Times about these new contraptions, autocars i think they're called?
Conor: (sipping-equally nonchalant, aloof almost) Of course, awfully vulgar.
Me: One cannot replace the quiet majesty of the horse drawn carriage.
Conor: Nor the thrill of the bumpy ride to Twickenham. (laughs)
Me: One would imagine them to be incredibly noisy things.
Conor: People from Twickenham?
Me: Autocars.
Conor: Indeed. (pauses, thoughtfully) If I may, I would like to propose a toast.
Me: Thats awfully thoughtful of you. What shall we celebrate.
Conor: Why your birthday of course!
Me: (a little embarrased) Thank you, but no, It seems frivolous to celebrate such an uneventful year.
Conor: To its passing then?
Me: To its passing. (glasses are raised and make a satisfying chink)
Conor: More champagne?
Me: You know, I think I shall.
Conor: It is, after all, a special occasion.
Me: Indeed.

(End scene)

(Act 2)

We open once more in a modern sitting room, the television is rerunning this afternoons edition of "Deal or No Deal", the gentlemen have now consumed copious amounts of champagne and are quite visibly drunk. The conversation is more empassioned now, yet gentlemanly restraint is maintained where possible. Conor's top hat is slightly skewed to the right and Michael is wearing the monocle on his other eye, they are now also barefoot.

(curtain up)

Conor: (aristocratic british accent, slurred)
All I'm saying my dear boy is that Marie Antoin ...(hiccups) Marie Antoinette was not, as she is sooo often painted by historians, socially unaware, she was in fact lampooning the lower classes for their quite ludicrous infatuation with bread!
Michael: (aristocratic british accent also, equally slurred)
One cannot account for the sophistication, or inherent lack thereof, contained within anothers pallette. I just thin' cake (hiccups) was a little insensitive of her, steak would have been better, without ruining the meter.
Conor: Let them eat steak!
Michael: Precisely, you see everyone likes steak. She neglected to account for the individual preferences, which cake. Chocolate or madiera, battenburg or.. or ... you know ...other cakes, by the way this cake is delicious. She confused them you see, that was her...shall we say, fatal flaw.
Conor: Overestimation.
Michael: Quite.
Conor: It's like those ghastly Home-Rulers isn't it. Potatoe infatuated one and all. Self governance should not be betsowed so lightly let me tell you, no sir! His Majesty should invite them round for tea, perhaps introduce them to other root vegetables. Variety, they lack variety. Such fundamental adherance to traditional cooking is not to be trusted.
Michael: It must be all those carbohydrates.
Conor: (adjusting his hat)
Carbo...
Michael: ....hydrates, I read it in the Times. Slow release energy, cast some light on this Irish situation I'm telling you! Parnell could well have done with some carrot juice.
Conor: (waving his finger)
This is the thing you see, this is the thing....
Michael: (drops his monacle into his glass, removes it and wipes it on a servant)
What is the thing?
Conor: (confused)
I'm sorry, did you say something?
Michael: (politely)
The thing you mentioned, about it being irrefutably the thing.
Conor: Ah yes, the thing... Variety, they lack variety, self governance shouldn.. (pauses) no thats not it. (pauses again, thinking, takes a drink) Im dreadfully sorry what was I saying?
Michael: (proudly placing his now shiny monocle back in place and waves the servant over to pour more champagne)
Hm?
Conor: What was i saying? (recieves the top up graciously, then looks didsdainfully at the servant as he walks away)
Michael: Something about cake? By the way this cake is delicious.
Conor: Ah yes, In my oppinion Marie Antionette was not, as she is.......
(Conor continues to repeat the Marie Antoinette story as the glasses are refilled once more)
Curtain falls

Difficult Second Album

So you're probably aware that Montreal-based indie-rock behemoths Arcade Fire have a new album out. It's called Neon Bible and to say its eagerly anticipated would be something of an understatement. I had intended to write a full review of the album, but in the end my crushing lack of enthusiasm for it defeated me. Here are some phrases that would have appeared in my review: "slathered in orchestration", "plodding, graceless opener", "faintly ridiculous", "Unremarkable blues shuffle", "Downright embarassing lyrics", I think you get idea. If you go to Neon Bible's Metacritic page, you'll see that it's garnered almost universal acclaim. I'm afraid i just don't buy it, this is a fundamentally uninspired, lifeless album, with a very few bright spots and a lot of unremarkable filler. The clue for this distinct lack of spark comes on the track "(Antichrist Televison Blues)", the lyrics of which apparently concern Joe Simpson, sinister svengali pa of Ashley and Jessica. Now previously i wouldn't have pegged Win Butler for a "Newlyweds" fan, but when on the next song he gloomily intones "MTV what have you done to me?" suddenly the the lack of inspiration evident on Neon Bible makes perfect sense. We've all been there - You start the day with big plans, like y'know finding a job, or following up your critically acclaimed debut album. But a little TV first won't hurt will it? Then before you know it it's dark outside, and you realize you've been staring at a "Viva La Bam" marathon in slack-jawed torpor for the last six hours.
In the end the only song on the album that captures the anthemic abandon of the Arcade Fire of old is, uh, an old Arcade Fire song. Yep, the best song on Neon Bible is a re-recording of "No Cars Go" a four year old track from their debut EP. And if that isn't a damning indictment, i don't know what is. Next time Win, turn off that episode of "Room Raiders" you've already seen a hundred times and write some songs.

Arcade Fire - No Cars Go

Ahem...

Happy Birthday Mick! Jesus, Toni Basil was scary wasn't she?

When I Get That Feeling

After hearing Hot Chip's cover of "Sexual Healing" i was reminded of a brilliant brass-band version of it that Donal Dineen was playing a lot on his radio show just before i left for Canada. Well, after scouring the internet i finally found a copy of it for download. It's by the Hot 8 Brass Band - a New Orleans based group who blend influences from hip-hop and funk with more traditional brass band sounds -and it's pretty special. Check it

Hot 8 Brass Band - Sexual Healing

Does exactly what it says on the tin, this one...

You can get more tracks from the Hot 8 Brass Band on their website

Portion of Chip

I don't think my opinion of a band as ever changed as radically as it did with Hot Chip last year. Coming On Strong felt more like a messy assemblage of their influences than a coherent musical statement, and you got the impression they were a little too in love with the whole "indie boys do soul and r'n'b" schtick. The Warning [buy it here] proved to be a huge step forward though, gone were the joking references to Prince and Stevie Wonder and in came a tighter, more focused production style and an album full of great electronic pop songs. Taking on a multitude of genres, they managed to synthesise their diverse influences without it coming across as pastiche. In keeping with their new more dancefloor-oriented direction, Hot Chip recruited a pretty incredible array of some of today's best house and techno producers to do the remixes for the singles from The Warning. Pick of the bunch for me were: Eroll Alkan's languid edit of "Boy From School" which doesn't try to improve on the original, just rearranges the essential elements over an epic ten minute running time; Booka Shade's glitchy, kitschy take on "(Just Like We) Breakdown" which marries the synth fanfares of the original to an insidious bass groove and some gloriously tacky vocodered vocals; And Fred Falke (minus regular collaborator Alan Braxe) doing that slinky French-house thing that he does so well with "Colours"

Hot Chip - And I Was A Boy From School (Errol Alkan Extended Rework)

Hot Chip - (Just Like We) Breakdown (Booka Shade Vocal Mix)

Hot Chip - Colours (Fred Falke Remix)

Go on then, have the Chip's own robo-funk take on Marvin's Motown classic "Sexual Healing." Cos' let's face it, we can all use a bit of that now and again...

Hot Chip - Sexual Healing (Marvin Gaye Cover)

Death Again

unken in the haze of habit, all is not right. When urinating into toilet bowls, a creeping unease calls me back into the act and, forcing on me an awareness, I fear I have found abandon in habit and am in fact pissing on a floor. But it is not so. The waters collide as should be. The deal is done and I return unshamed.

Returning home taking the left onto a footpath pulling open a slide-door, it occurs to me that this is not my house. And the fear of being caught - a neighbour's head peering bewildered from a doorway - strikes at me from the idle anxiety bubbling below.

It awaits me, this fall, I can feel it. An unforced error destroying the steady accumulated play I've been laying. And I too await it.

It is the search for the anguish that means anything at all. Fucked on past thoughts I stay sober and work. The need for separation is immense and the people disposable, as is every thing you thought you had and would forever hold. Preservation is the accidental by-product of a need to destroy. I write it so it must be true.

And again after dark as I step outside and smoke and breathing uncomfortably and dizzy I find a wall to rest against and wonder if this is death again and know it is not so. I turn down the hallway and into the room and sitting down at the desk I think: All is not right. Lord, let it never be right.

Girl's Night Out

Girl Talk - Smash Your Head
On his 2006 album The Night Ripper, Pittsburgh DJ and producer Greg Gillis takes the rather tired notion of the mash-up and takes it to the next level, chucking over a hundred snippets of classic pop, hip-hop and rock tracks into a blender and serving up the pureed remains over an extremely hectic 42 minutes. It's often inspired, sometimes annoying, but always unique listening. I'd liken the album to that one dude at the party - eyes seemingly trying to escape in opposite directions from his head - standing on the kitchen table endlessly screaming "PARTY!" until he keels over and hits his head on the sink. Entertaining yes, but only if you're in the right mood for it. The one moment of introspection in all this madness (and the album's undisputed highlight) comes on the track "Smash Your Head," where after mixing and matching snippets of Nirvana, The Pharcyde and Young Jeezy, Gillis gradually introduces the rolling piano riff of Elton John's Tiny Dancer and then drops the first verse from Notorious B.I.G.'s "Juicy" on top of it. It's an inspired juxtaposition, the sentimental strings and piano mesh perfectly with some of Biggie's most heartfelt lyrics, adding an even more poignant air to his tale of growing up as an aspiring rapper. It's a pairing that you wouldn't ordinarily expect to work, but when executed with Gillis' skill, it sounds completely natural and packs a real emotional punch. (It's also notable for disproving the equation that Elton John + Hip-Hop = Shit. See Tupac's woeful "Ghetto Gospel", or Sir Elt bellowing along to "Stan" at the MTV awards)

Yeah, we changed the name. Wanna fight about it?

More Videos

Here's some more music videos i enjoyed from last year. I particularly like the stop-motion one for Plan B's "No Good", it's fairly terrifying thinking of the work it must have involved....

Plan B - No Good


Boards of Canada - Dayvan Cowboy


Daft Punk - Prime Time Of Your Life
(Warning: Not for the squeamish)


TV On The Radio - Wolf Like Me

06 Redux

I had intended to write a lengthy post detailing my favourite music from 2006, but time keeps slipping and seeing as we're already in March i've decided to knock it on the head. However, i've decided to post some of my particular highlights from last year in an intermittent fashion i.e. when and if I can be bothered. First up:

M Ward - To Go Home (Daniel Johnston Cover)
from the album Post-War

The always excellent Matt Ward continued to do what what he does best in 2006, releasing quietly superb albums that unfortunately, not many people take notice of. Hopefully this is going to change soon, with Post-War garnering Ward the most widespread attention of his career. As well as being a fantastic songwriter in his own right, he is also a superb interpreter of other musicians work (For further evidence of this, see his mournful version of David Bowie's "Let's Dance.") and this Daniel Johnston cover was the highlight of Post-War for me. Using a full band for the first time in his career, Ward effortlessly reconfigures the lo-fi original into an honest-to-goodness rock n' roll stomper. Over a rollicking backing of pounding drums, thrashed acoustic guitar and barrelhouse piano, Ward magnifies the quiet desperation of the song to almost unbearable levels. What really elevates the track to another plain however, are Neko Case's stunning harmonies on the chorus. Joyous and sad, no other song last year made me want to simultaneously shout with happiness and sit down and have a bit of a cry.

You can also check out the great animated video to another another Post-War track, "Chinese Translation" here.

Gandalf Sold Me Drugs

Intellectual heavyweights Howard Zinn and Noam Chomsky discuss hobbit's essential criminal nature and how the war in Middle Earth is a "conflict primarily about pipe weed", on their unused audio commentary for "The Fellowship of the Ring." From the sporadically excellent, Dave Eggers helmed periodical McSweeney's.

Lethem Eat Cake

I think the above title will remain unbeaten for it's groan-inducing punitude, especially as apart from the author's name it does not relate logically to this post in any way. Never let it be said that i'm one to pass up the chance for an awful pun...
I'm something of a geek when it comes to the work Jonathan Lethem, he's responsible for one of my favourite books of this decade in "The Fortress of Solitude" (if you haven't read it, remedy that as soon as possible) and he's written a load of brilliant novels ranging from defiantly odd science-fiction to offbeat crime thrillers. As well as a couple of brilliant short-story collections. At the moment he is offering an interesting challenge on his website - he's calling it the Promiscuous Materials Project and it basically involves him making a number of his stories available for adaptation by aspiring film-makers or dramatists, free of charge. Maybe that Galway theatre company that keeps getting sued should try adapting one of these next time. At least they'll be spared the wrath of Kevin Smith.
Oh, Jonathan Lethem also has a new book coming out on the 13th of March called "You Don't Love Me Yet" if anyone wants to know what to get me for my birthday next month...

EDIT: Here's a link to an interesting article Lethem wrote on plagiarism

Pop Video

In my leaving cert English exam, i had to write an essay on "whether music videos can be considered a legitimate form of artistic expression", or something. I thought i would be all cool by talking about Spike Jonze and Gondry and so on, but i think i just ended up sounding like a cunt. Enough about me, here are some good music videos from last year:

Hot Chip - Boy From School


Vitalic - Poney Part I


Beck - Cellphone's Dead
(from the aforementioned Monsieur Gondry)


The Mountain Goats - Woke Up New


No, i'm not going to post that Ok Go video...

Dave Mulligan, International Man of Mystery

I think i've figured out why Dave hasn't posted anything here lately. He's either busy working on a new screenplay, or locked in preparation for Scunthorpe's tricky away tie at Brentford this weekend...