This was never going to be as dazzling as it ought to be, and only mildly disappointing is about the best possible reaction to these two finally making an entire album together. There’s a distinct sense of two artists doing what they do – as the song says, you know me by now – but it’s a schtick that’s still not worn out its welcome. Kanye is just coming to the end of his imperial phase, Jay-Z is maybe a shade too magisterial, but at this point a sub-par Kanye/Jay-Z record is still better than most of the rest of what’s out there. Continue reading Mostly Records – August 2011→
Hurrah! This is possibly her best single since Piece of Me. It’s a blessed relief after the first two singles from Femme Fatale (neither of which have been even remotely interesting) with a catchy little whistled hook and massive, hands-in-the-air chorus which, all things being equal, would play brilliantly in a club. Plus, it seems to be about wanking. Winner.
But, well, the video. File this under WTF? I’m not even sure my descriptions would do it justice. It starts quite tamely – though “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you’re cool, fuck you” is pretty great – with Britney being Acceptably Wild, pinching a guy’s arse and flashing a cop (the subsequent frisking by whom is enjoyed to an unseemly degree by Ms Spears), etc. Then the paparazzi attack, and it all kicks off, a bit. Continue reading Mostly Pop – August 2011→
John Williams and somebody else: Would you buy a used soundtrack from these men?
The two most annoying experiences I’ve ever had in all my years of being a soundtrack fan both involved people who were supposed to be selling me the things. Continue reading Confessions of a soundtrack fan→
I was watching Legally Blonde a few weeks ago on TV and it seemed like it was missing something. It took a little while to work out what it was but then it hit me – there weren’t any songs. Legally Blonde: The Musical opened at the Savoy Theatre in London a good year and a half ago, and although the critical and commercial response was good overall, there was a certain amount of snobbery in there too. It was viewed, along with Dirty Dancing, Grease, Sister Act and others, as just another way to entice middle-aged women into theatres. The argument runs that women of a certain age (surely the biggest spenders in the West End) remember the original films fondly, and head to the shows in droves to try to recapture their youth, bringing their friends and families with them.
So here we have a class of musical that’s commercially successful and very often fabulously well staged, acted and sung, which is nevertheless dismissed by many people writing about theatre. The most often expressed reason for this dismissal is that the musicals are not original: they are based on films, and crowd-pleasing mainstream films at that. Dare I say it, but I think they are sometimes also discounted for being based on films that tend to be popular with women, and often “things women like” is synonymous with “things we look down upon”. From time to time there will be an article in The Stage or in The Guardianwhere the number of “original” shows and/or straight plays is compared with the number of remounts and film adaptations, either between the West End and Broadway or between now and 50 years ago. The subtext of these lists is always that having a greater number of brand new shows is better, and a higher number of straight plays something to be proud of. The list writers suggest that musicals and film adaptations are not as good as brand new work and plays where no one sings. The articles will say things like, did you know that in the 1950s, The Entertainer starring no less than Sir Laurence Olivier was playing at the Palace Theatre, instead of – gasp! horror! – Priscilla Queen of the Desert? Golly, everyone must have been so much more clever and cultured then than they are now. Continue reading Legally Scorned: Films as Musicals→
Graffiti spotted on Tib Street, Manchester, Saturday July 2nd (and crudely painted over by Sunday July 3rd)
Like the song says, Manchester is wonderful: and since 2007, we’ve been able to add a fourth item to the list of reasons why. The Manchester International Festival rolls up every two years, presents a whole array of world premieres across the entire artistic spectrum, and then leaves London to spend the next 24 months picking up the leftovers. Currently in its third season (until July 17th), it doesn’t take over the whole city the way that, say, the Edinburgh Festival does: but you get the impression that Alex Poots and his staff would take quality over quantity any day.
Mostly Film will be devoting a pair of articles to MIF 2011: this one will be concentrating on the music-based performance events, or at least the three that The Belated Birthday Girl and I managed to catch during a weekend visit to my old home town. Continue reading MANCHESTER INTERNATIONAL FESTIVAL 2011: CHOON!→
Nicola Roberts was always my favourite Girl Aloud, in spite of the repeated criticisms slung at her – she can’t dance! She doesn’t smile! She can’t sing! – so when I became aware that she was launching a solo career I can honestly say my heart sank a little bit. “Stick to your legacy, Nicola!” I thought. “Be remembered as the slightly awkward redhead in the best pop band ever, the one with the flat but oddly appealing singing voice!” Mostly, though, I thought “Don’t release a bunch of anodyne shit like Cheryl and Nadine!”
Starting by talking about Lady Gaga risks straying into Mostly Pop territory but it’s an album so fair game. That Charlie off Busted thing last month had guitars on and did I complain?
Anyway, what’s fascinating about Gaga is the distinction between her persona and her actual records. If you read the interviews, look at the pictures, and watch the videos with the sound off, you’d expect monstrous, futurist pop. By rights she ought to sound like Björk fronting Army of Lovers.
Bob Dylan is 70 today. To mark the occasion, four Mostly Film contributors write about Dylan’s many faces on film and wonder whether any of them is his own.
Niall Anderson on “Dont Look Back”
There are probably worse introductions to Bob Dylan than Dont Look Back, but alas it was mine, so I find it hard to believe. Before I saw DA Pennebaker’s film I only knew the inescapable Dylan: the strumalong homilies, a famous line here or there, the placard-flashing promo for “Subterranean Homesick Blues”, and the fact that he was considered a genius. I was seventeen and I don’t know what I expected genius to be. I mostly expected it to be obvious. Not necessarily direct or easy, but in some way lividly apparent. I didn’t expect this.
I’m going to start by stretching the definition of a new record to breaking point – not only is this not new, being a compilation, it’s also not a record as it can never be released:
But nothing new I’ve heard this month – this year, in fact – comes close to matching this lovingly compiled unofficial best of the KLF for energy, for ideas, or for simple cheek. Tom Ewing has assembled a guide to the only truly lost pop group of the last 20 years, from the piratical hip-hop of Burn the Bastards through the hits and the scams of the Timelords and Stadium House to their freeze frame into legend.
Over the course of less than 5 years, the KLF invented at least 2 now-forgotten genres (ambient and stadium house), recorded half a dozen brilliant top 10 singles (even if you don’t count “Doctorin’ the Tardis” under “brilliant”) and took the idea of the pop group as scam to its vanishing point. Then they deleted the back catalogue, left the building and, with a discipline no equivalent act has ever managed, vanished. Even 20 years later I keep half-suspecting every new European comedy dance act has Drummond and Cauty pulling the strings.
There have, however, been some new albums released this month (even if the second best – which I’ll talk about next month – is Kate Bush’s collection of old songs recreated to get closer to the sound in her head).
MostlyFilm 