Thursday, 6 September 2018 / ,

Four Albums That Make Me Smile

When I conceived the idea for this post, I had a long list of albums by the likes of The Rolling Stones and Neil Young. David Bowie, The Slits, Hole and Whitney were on there too. But as I started to write, I realised I wanted to share albums with a story attached, a memory, and not just my favourites (which is a tie between Revolver and Abbey Road, by the way). Records that pull you out of the here-and-now and snap you right back into a different phase of your life, the way catching a whiff of a certain perfume on a passing stranger does. So out went Exile on Main Street and Harvest - that last one hurt a lot - and in came this nostalgia-inducing quartet. Look, no Beatles!




 1. Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Songbook - Ella Fitzgerald
I'm a night writer, for sure. I used to spend a lot of my nights in the library - not for the books, of which there were surprisingly few, but for a quiet place to write without distraction. I'd usually sleep all day, and then walk to the library, a few streets away from my grubby flat, at about 10pm. It was almost always raining, and so I'd turn up with a tangle of black curls on top of my head and eyeliner dripping down my cheeks. I probably looked like a ghost from a Japanese horror movie.

My routine was always the same: I'd grab myself some coffee from the Starbucks machine in the corner, then find the most secluded desk, preferably a booth. I liked the first floor best because you could eat and drink there. The rules became stricter on each floor - you couldn't eat on the second, but you could drink as long as it was from a bottle with a lid. Absolutely no food or drink permitted on the third. As long as the first floor had coffee machines and a vending machine stocked with toffee cookies, I was all good. Unfortunately, the rules on noise also increased by floor, and so I was on the loudest and most unregulated. No matter, that's why earphones were invented.

As soon as the dinosaur of a computer had turned on, I'd pop on some music. If I needed to get into a certain mood to write, I'd pick something more specific (The Shining soundtrack is excellent for horror and dread) but otherwise I'd set up Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Songbook on Youtube, and get to work. To this day, the album still reminds me of those rainy, carefree nights.




2. Ultraviolence - Lana Del Rey
I remember hearing this and thinking, here is a future classic. I'm 85% sure Ultraviolence will come to be regarded as a masterpiece of modern times, and it makes me feel pretty damn smug to have called it. I hadn't expected much. I wasn't a Born to Die fan, and Paradise was merely good (though I loved Ride, and Gods & Monsters and American were decent). I didn't even like Ultraviolence when I first heard it. It was slow and boring and all the songs sounded the same. And then one day, I just got it. It's an incredible throwback to the Sixties and Seventies, when albums were a thirty five minute experience and not just a collection of singles. Not that Ultraviolence is without its standout tracks; Shades of Cool is the greatest, weirdest Bond song that never was, and West Coast was the best single of 2014.

With this album, Lana has proven not only her fantastic voice, but her ability to use it to manipulate the listener, evoking any damn feeling or mood she wants. At times she is whispery and vulnerable, purring with affected sensuality, at others slow and dripping with braggadocio. To me, this is what makes a great singer - it has nothing to do with vocal range or hitting the high notes. Her vocal delivery tells as much of the story as her lyrics. And I love characters in pop music. From Prince to Gaga to Bowie, they just make an overplayed game more interesting.




3. LA Woman - The Doors

Liverpool isn't much like Los Angeles. God knows why this album brings me back to wandering the streets of Scouseland at night. I listened to it on my midnight wanders, sure, but I also listened to the I Love You, Beth Cooper soundtrack and Drake Bell. So why does LA Woman yank up memories of traipsing to the Tesco Express round the corner for pizza, red wine and cans of Monster, before spending the night locked in my shitty room, alternating writing and staring at the walls I'd turned into huge mood boards? (Not mentioned: paranoid Google searches of 'can you OD on energy drinks?' at 3am.)

Something about hearing Jim Morrison growling DRIVING DOWN YOUR FREEWAY and Ray Manzarek hitting those keys livens me up from the inside. My brain associates The Doors with nervous, rampant energy and manic creativity. They sort of induce a caffeine-like effect on my system. That's the kind of focus their music gives me; it increases productivity, enhances concentration and energises my soul. To be honest, I probably could have left the Monster on the shelf at Tesco and saved myself a couple of quid and a few hours worth of anxiety. Oh, and yes, energy drinks can kill you. And yes, I'd consumed a potentially fatal amount of caffeine. RISIN', RISIN'.




 4. In Utero - Nirvana
The ugly, elitist side of me considered skipping this one from the list. It seemed too obvious, and there are so many fake fans out there. You know who I mean: the ones who buy smiley-faced Nirvana t-shirts at Forever 21, tie a flannel shirt around their waists and call themselves a 'huge fan'. The ones who think it's super-cool Kurt killed himself. I really don't want to be lumped in with these people. But you know what's lamer than pretending to like a band for the cool points? Pretending not to for the cool points. And so In Utero enters the list.

I was always a casual Nirvana fan, but it wasn't until my first year of university I really began to listen. I'd spend my days either sleeping or exploring the city after lectures (or during - my attendance record wasn't the best), and by night I'd either write or get out on the streets to listen to music and people watch. I like the vibe of night better. People are different. I was living just off Hope Street, and opposite my flat was the Metropolitan Cathedral. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I'd climb up the stairs in front of the cathedral and sit at the top. You could see the whole city from up there. I'd drink 45p cans of knockoff Vimto and watch the night fall over Liverpool. Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle came on shuffle, and for the first time, I really heard the lyric 'I miss the comfort in being sad'. and yet it was exactly how I'd been feeling for years, ever since I 'trained' myself not to be depressed. This might seem a strange reason for inclusion on a list of albums that make me smile. But in that moment, high up above Liverpool and as physically alone as you can be in the city, I felt that someone else knew how I feel.

People talk about pain and depression as if it will make you some great artist. As if your work will be infected with originality and a special rawness. As if depression is okay because it has an up side, too. But how can art ever be raw when depression dulls the depth of feeling until I'm no longer capable of expressing myself at all, artistically or otherwise? I think that's why I latched on to Nirvana so hard after that night at the Met. Kurt was singing these things and expressing everything for me, because I was unable to do it myself.




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Friday, 1 June 2018 / ,

Forgotten Film Friday: After Dark, My Sweet

Back before Jason Patric was fighting for dads’ rights, he was busy brooding in James Foley’s sun-bleached noir. A poetic and strangely hypnotic take on the classic genre, After Dark, My Sweet is a slow-boiling poker game of a film.
Patric’s drifter, Collie, hot out of the mental institute, is picked up by alcoholic widow Fay (Rachel Ward) in a bar. Allowing him to live in a trailer at the bottom of her dried up yard, the pair soon become caught up in a kidnapping plot. Orchestrating the clumsy scheme is Uncle Bud, played with creepy flair by Bruce Dern. When the trio finally manage to steal the right child, things quickly disintegrate and they begin to question their trust in each other.
Patric gives the performance of his career as the mixed up ex-boxer; the shrewdness and aptitude for violence Collie represses fights to break out from under his veil of restraint and dim-witted sensitivity. Ward, the femme fatale to his smoldering anti-hero, is as alluring and tragic as the noir heroines that precede her. The sunny colour palette and Palm Springs setting freshen up the moody, paranoid tones and taut sexual tension that pervade the narrative. A feverishly sensuous film that artfully taps into human loneliness, After Dark, My Sweet has been overlooked for too long. This is an absolute gem and a solid entry in the neo-noir genre.
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Thursday, 10 May 2018 / ,

Ten Underappreciated John Lennon songs


...because there's more to the Smart Beatle than just Imagine, you know?

Steel and Glass (from Walls and Bridges)
Probably the only song in Lennon's catalogue to rival the better-known How Do You Sleep in nastiness, Steel and Glass is a delightfully seething fuck-you to his former manager, Allen Klein. With cruel lines like 'your mother left you when you were small / but you're gonna wish you weren't born at all', John's at his best when he's angry, and boy is he angry here.

I'm Losing You (from Double Fantasy)
This is undoubtedly one of Lennon's best-written songs. His fear and confusion about his relationship with Yoko Ono manifests itself, as it so often does, as anger in this intense, paranoid gem from his final album. The sound is so tight, so tense, that listening to it evokes anxiety in me. Great vocals, too!

I Know (I Know) (from Mind Games)
He dismissed this song as a 'piece of nothing', but it's a top-five Lennon track for me. Something I find in a lot of his more ostensibly tender songs, like Oh Yoko! and Grow Old With Me, is an underlying sadness and pain, though it's possible I'm allowing his eventual murder to colour my perception, of course. I hear it in this song too, which sounds so bittersweet to me. Lennon uses simple statements - 'no more crying, no more crying', 'today, I love you more than yesterday' - to convey deeper themes such as forgiveness and empathy. I like the theory that he wrote this for Paul - it wouldn't be the first time he referenced Beatles songs (Yesterday, Getting Better) to send him a message (see: How Do You Sleep).

Surprise, Surprise (Sweet Bird of Paradox) (from Walls and Bridges)
No one ever talks about this song! It definitely misses the powerful emotion that drives some of his better-received tracks like Mother and God, but what it lacks in intensity, it makes up for in groove and fun. Whilst distinctly Lennon-sounding, the lyrics are almost Paul McCartney-esque ('just like a willow tree/ a breath of spring you see). Plus it's got Elton John on backing vocals! Definitely not his best or most powerful track, but a very entertaining listen nonetheless. 

You Are Here (from Mind Games)
This is one of his most relaxed, pretty songs. When I think of his post-Beatles career, I tend to think more of songs like this and Bless You - vaguely philosophical, meandering tracks - than rockier numbers like Cold Turkey and Remember. He famously hated his singing voice, but the raw thinness of it works well with this kind of song.

Remember (from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band)
So many of Lennon's best songs are based around one word, almost like a mantra: Imagine, God, Love, Isolation, Woman, Mother and this one, Remember. I always forget how good this one is until I hear it. Perfectly placed on the album right before the much softer Love, the juxtaposition is beautiful and disorienting. Great drumming from Ringo on this one, too! 

Nobody Told Me (from Milk and Honey)
I love this song! It's much less vulnerable than most of his songs, but doesn't suffer for it. Taking inspiration from classic poetry - and his own UFO sighting! - it's a jaunty little tune that was originally meant for Ringo Starr. Calling a top-five hit 'underrated' could be a bit of a stretch, but the song seems to have been largely forgotten with time.

Out The Blue (from Mind Games)
You can probably tell I'm a big Mind Games fan. This serene, grateful song is less emotionally searing than most of his songs, but doesn’t suffer for it at all. This type of song is underrated in the Lennon canon in favour of louder songs like Instant Karma, not least of all by John himself. Lyrics such as ‘it had to be – two minds, one destiny’ and ‘I survived long enough to make you my wife’ express the very Lennon-esque sentiment that he was awakened or ‘saved’ by Yoko and their love for each other.

Look at Me (from Plastic Ono Band)
I love the ethereal double-tracked vocals on this pretty song. He’s vulnerable, asking for help and begging ‘please look at me, my love’. He’s pleading for guidance with lyrics such as ‘here I am. What am I supposed to do?’ It’s something I find so interesting about Lennon. He was so opinionated, so self-centred, so uninterested in what anyone else thought, and yet it’s clear from his songs that he looks for validation from others, particularly women. 

Hold On (from Plastic Ono Band)
This could have easily made it onto The Beatles’ Let It Be album. The bass line is fantastic, while the simple, universal message of ‘hold on, it’s going to be all right’ is surprisingly positive for such a lyrically bleak album. People always talk about John’s ability as a lyricist, but in many ways, I think he’s actually underrated in that department; he has the rare gift of being able to say so much by saying so little. Think of songs like Strawberry Fields Forever –‘no one, I think, is in my tree’ may be my favourite line in any song.





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