müzik tarihinde kendisine yer bulan önemli akımların yeşerdiği, filizlendiği ülkelerden birisidir ingiltere. özellikle 70′lerin sonuna doğru kendisine iyice yer bulan punk akımına ev sahipliği yapan, sonrasında brit rock ile rock kültürüne başlı başına bir akım sokan şimdilerdeyse indie rock’a güzel alternatifler sunan ülkedir. manchester da tüm bu akımlara bulaşmış ve müzik tarihine yön veren gruplara ve olaylara ev sahipliği yapmış bir yöresidir ingiltere’nin. işte filmimiz de bu yörenin müziğin çehresini nasıl değiştirdiğine ait izlenimler sunuyor bize.

frank cottrell boyce’un yazdığı senaryoyu, 2002 yılında michael winterbottom filme çekmiş. dekorunda manchester’ın merkezinde ise tony wilson’ın olduğu film, 1976 haziran’ında sex pistols’ın ilk sahneye çıkışıyla açılıyor. punk’ın ortaya çıkışında önemli bir yere sahip isimlerden olan buzzcocks’ın yerine sahne alıyor sex pistols, 42 kişinin karşısında. o anda tony wilson iyi bir öngörüde bulunarak yeni bir devrin açıldığından bahsediyor yanındakilere. nitekim de öyle oluyor, buzzcocks’ın “gidin ve kendi grubunuzu kurun” deyişi bünyeleri gaza getiriyor, ve ilk bu aragaz ilk sex pistols ile hayat buluyor. ardından ian curtis’in göçüp gidişine kadar ortalığı sallayacak olan joy division doğuyor. tony wilson da bu doğuma el verenlerden biri ve hikayenin odak noktalarından biri. joy division’ın müzikal tarihine göz attıktan sonra film, manchester’daki müzikal faaliyetlere dair bir resmi geçit halini alıyor. joy division’ın küllerinden new order doğuyor, ardından happy mondays’i piyasaya sunuyor tony wilson. yandaşlarıyla beraber factory records’a imza atıyor ve bu da beraberinde dönemin en önemli mekanlarından birisi olan hacienda’yı çıkarıyor gün yüzüne. hacienda’nın da kapanmasıyla noktalanıyor 117 dakika süren film.

1976′dan 1990′ların başına kadar olan zaman diliminde müzikteki değişimlere şahit oluyoruz filmde. müzikal akımlardaki değişim sırasıyla şu şekilde sunuluyor; punk - post punk - brit rock - rave. bu değişimin yanı sıra arka planda müzik ile sosyal hayatın karşılıklı etkileşimi de yer alıyor. yazıyı sonlandırmadan önce “control” ile beraber arkalı önlü izlenilirse güzel bir konsept yakalanır hatırlatmasını da yapıp noktayı koyuyorum.

Madis Kõivu “Lõputus kohvijoomises” (mida võiks ju lausa soovitada vaadata kui kõik etendused juba ammu välja müüdud poleks) istub W kohvikus alati üks mees - Stammgast. Tema ja kohviku ümber peetakse sõdu ja põleb linn, vahetuvad riigikorrad ja moed, inimesed tulevad ja lähevad, mõned tulevad tagasi, mõned ei tule. Stammgast istub ja joob kohvi, mõnikord ka maitsvat veini, sest milleks lasta end ümbrusest häirida, kui kohvi on ja vahel isegi veini.

Mina joon veini muidugi oluliselt rohkem kui kohvi, aga Stammgasti ellusuhtumine mulle meeldib. Alati naasva Uustulnuka rollis on mul aga näiteks mõned filmid, mida iseenesest väljakujunenud rütmis ikka uuesti ja uuesti üle vaadata. 24 Hour Party People - vähemalt kaks korda aastas nagu kellavärk. Sest ilma ei saa või ei taha. 

Või siis sellepärast, et ikka leiab kellegi, kelle elu sel filmil muuta lasta. Et nagu boonusena või nii.

Või et endalegi midagi meenutada.

See lõik siin (mis lõpeb üsna napilt liiga vara), jah, seesama..

..on üks kõige ilusamaid kohti filmis. Ja valusamaid, aga tundega, et kõik hakkab kohe jälle paremini minema.

Ning lisaks meenutas see lõik taas, et John Simm, kes siin Bernard Sumnerit kehastades laulab, on lihtsalt fantastiline, mängigu ta siis parajasti LSD-uimas klubinoort (Human Traffic), 1970ndatesse sattunud 21. sajandi politseinikku (Life On Mars) või kõikvõimast tulnukat, kellest saab Suurbritannia peaminister ja kes vallutab maailma (Doctor Who).

Fantastiline olemine kulub eriti marjaks ära, kui inimene, keda sa filmis mängib, istub esilinastusel täpselt sinu taga. oleks Simm kehv olnud, oleks pussitamisintsident ehk ohtlikult lähedal olnud, läks aga nii, et veel samal aastal esines John Simm koos New Orderiga päris suurel laval:

Kuhu me nüüd välja oleme jõudnud, on see, et filmist tõugatuna veetsin ma õdusa hommikupooliku Youtube’is kõike Simmiga seotut vaatamas ning vägagi jagamisväärseks pean ma tema esinemist saates Orange Playlist, kus Johniga räägitakse ka tema lapsepõlvest ning vaadatakse kiirelt üle ta põhirollid, kuid peamine rõhk on siiski muusikal nagu saate pealkirjastki ehk aimata võiks. Stone Roses, biitlid ja Elvis ning üht-teist veel on Simmi lemmikud.

Ning ei saa jätta mainimata, et ma olen täiesti kindel, et John Simm ongi Thom Yorke’i kadunud (ja nüüd siis järelikult leitud) kaksikvend.

Orange Playlist:

Robert Junior est encore entier, faut le dire. Il ressort d’un devoir surveillé de littérature et d’une carte de géo sur table, mais limite, on s’en tape. De toute manière, il a décidé qu’Octobre ne rimait pas avec travail, c’est tout. Après cette introduction totalement foireuse, que je n’assume pas mais alors pas du tout (c’est un autre qui l’a écrit), eh bien, il est temps d’aborder ZHE truc de la week, à savoir les Inrocks Indie Club d’hier soir. Alphabeat et Islands (et Your Happy End, un groupe havrais). Faut dire que la journée avait commencé de manière tout à fait nordique. ABBA dans la voiture de Robert Senior dès huit heures du matin, résultat la Dancing Queen m’a poursuivi pendant un bon bout de temps. Juste pour le feun tu vois… (je sais, c’est gore)

ABBA ••• Dancing Queen
ABBA ••• Knowing Me, Knowing You

Bref, passons aux choses sérieuses. J’arrive à 20 heures au Cabaret Electric. Comme toujours, j’ai certainement l’air terriblement blasé devant le peu de personnes présentes devant la salle. Comme toujours, on pourra facilement être bien placé, juste devant la scène et compagnie, sans être poussé. 20 heures et des poussières, ma camarade d’on-the-list-girls se pointe et après avoir imaginé le même scénario qu’avec le bus-tour des Kills (genre le chauffeur bourré qui décide de faire une petite promenade et qui ne revient jamais), on se décide à rentrer, il fait froid sa grand-mère quoi. Moment de gloire personnelle, “on est sur la liste” pour écoper de deux tickets à l’image du logo de Jack Daniel’s “le bar des VIP est au fond de la salle, vous avez des bons pour deux verres“. Ouais bon, cool d’être des vipeuses. Non seulement tu ne payes pas, mais on t’incite à boire et à venir en cours avec une gueule de bois (que je n’aurai pas, soit dit en passant). A vue d’œil, on doit être les seules à trouver une utilité au comptoir sponsorisé uniquement par Jack et sa bouteille. Le barman est généreux, n’y va pas de main morte et on se retrouve chacun avec une dose assez impressionnante de whiskey.

Au final, il y a du monde, mais tu peux facilement écarter les bras sans éborgner ton voisin. Les Your Happy End débarquent sur scène, ils sont deux. J’étais persuadée de les avoir déjà vu en première partie des Sunday Drivers en Novembre dernier mais j’ai du me planter. C’est havrais, mais c’est sympa, original quand ils quittent les sentiers battus, et se barrent dans l’expérimental, en gros bon souvenir. Vous pouvez aller faire un tour sur leur myspace, mais les titres rendent mille fois mieux en live. Enfin, j’en sais rien, je n’en reconnais aucun.

Alphabeat ••• What Is Happening
Alphabeat ••• Touching Me Touching You

Petite pause, avant de se mettre en face du micro pour Alphabeat, ou le groupe pour lequel j’étais principalement venue. Les roadies réglent les derniers détails, on est en total quiphassage sur le t-shirt des Smiths d’un des types… qui est en fait le batteur du groupe. Les danois débarquent, et vu leur coupes de cheveux (les plus chevelus ont quasiment la même), je peux affirmer que la crète blonde sur le côté (ou sa variante : au milieu), c’est tendance au Danemark. Résultat, on a une petite blonde à robe noire scintillante (à crète), un grand blond musclé à cravate orange (crète bis), un chanteur plus ou moins bonasse qui nous a fait un remix de la danse de Ian Curtis et de la gestuelle du leader des Hushpuppies (crète encore), deux leucémiques à casquettes (dont une des Smiths je crois) et le batteur, déjà repéré grâce à son t-shirt. Du beau monde, pour une prestation über quiphassante. A noter, les mouvements de bras et de jambes de la chanteuse, qu’on qualifiera de “chou”. On a le droit à une bonne partie de leur album (normal), un petit rappel pour jouer Fascination et c’est fini. Photo - Alphabeat, T in th park. De gauche à droite : un des leucémiques, casquette à l’appui. la bonasse qui chante. l’autre chanteuse très chou. le type à la coiffure impressionnante et… le type avec LE t-shirt.

Islands ••• Creeper
Islands ••• The Arm

La suite de la soirée fut courte. Deuxième verre à la main, les Islands s’installent. Il est 22h30, je décolle de la salle d’ici vingt minutes pour cause de DS à réviser et Mamanpascontentedevenirmechercher. J’ai du assister à trois ou quatre titres, notamment Creeper (sur ma liste des choses à faire). Chanteur qui est visiblement mal en point à en juger par ses bandages aux mains. Bassiste nain, à qui on a n’a jamais dit que la chemise ouverte, quand on n’a pas la classe innée, on évite. Deux violons, ceux qui changent de tout ce que j’ai pu voir au Cabaret Electric, en même temps, ils viennent de Montréal hein. Photo - Islands, pas de présentation, introduce yourself tout seul.

Photo du début d’article : quand Robert Jr va à Londres avec une fanatique des canards. Ou quand la fanatique des canards devient fétichiste des pieds pendant trois secondes.

todo ano nós esperamos ansiosamente pela programação. depois que sai a programação, começa a correria pelos ingressos (e eu ainda não comprei). compra o ingresso, espera mais um pouquinho pelos dias dos shows.

tim festival é jaca. e eu adoro.

todo ano eu vou, pelo menos uns dois dias…

ano passado, fui com minha irmã e mais duas amigas para o tim festa.

compramos vodka e energético e quando entramos, já estávamos louconas e piramos com tudo lá dentro.

me perdi mil vezes de todo mundo. era muita informação, mil dj’s tocando ao mesmo tempo. johnny e alexandre, girl talk, marlboro… ah esqueci!

lojinhas, entretenimento, gente bonita, bebidas, música e tudo mais.

a gente comprou coisinhas exclusivas do tim na redley. adoro!

ficamos lá a noite inteira.

quando me dei conta, o sol já estava bombando na marina da glória e já estava tudo fechado e sem som, e os seguranças estavam pedindo pra gente sair.

oh my god! e agora?!

gente, vamos à praia! olha esse dia!

partiu itacoá

uhu

partiu.

pois bem, saímos da glória direto pra niterói, onde trocamos nossos trajes noturnos por biquinis e fomos dormir em itacoá. nesse dia a praia estava linda e foi muito ótimo.

quero de novo.

ok, um vídeo de péssima qualidade, mas que rende boas risadas.

fim de festa, indo para o carro.

Primera acotación de Tony Wilson dirigiéndose al público:

Esto ha pasado en la vida real. Evidentemente también es simbólico y funciona en ambos niveles. No os contaré demasiado para no estropearos la película, pero sólo os diré “Ícaro”. Si sabéis de qué hablo, bien, y si no da igual, pero deberíais leer más.

Cuando una película o un libro vomitan encima del talento un resorte envidioso libera en nuestro riego sanguíneo cierta dosis de endorfinas y nos relaja, nos permite seguir viviendo sin ser tan buenos o sin haberlo demostrado todavía. Es un genio, sí, pero morirá. Es un genio, sí, pero también un infeliz amargado que vive como un imbécil y se pasa el día colocado. Permitimos la genialidad porque creemos que esos genios no son mejores que nosotros.

Las obras que muestran la otra cara del proceso creativo, la bilis, el tormento por alumbrar la creación, esas obras-digo- deben contarse desde la admiración y la inteligencia, porque si no parecen el resultado de que un grupo de palurdos envidiosos salgan a la calle con una cámara de vídeo. 24 hour party people es una gran película porque parte de que sus protagonistas son genios y por eso viven así. No es envidia, no es rencor, no es zafiedad. Muestra la miseria del artista y el fracaso del visionario pero lo hace desde el talento propio. Con talento se sabe que pese a la capacidad las cosas cuestan trabajo y no puede hacerlas cualquiera. Son los necios los que lo ven todo fácil.

En fin. La película cuenta la revolución musical que se produjo en Manchester desde los setenta, con cierto aire documental y énfasis en el gurú que aglutinó a grupos y productores: Tony Wilson. De hecho es el protagonista y narrador. Son los príncipes los que hacen las revoluciones, porque sólo ellos están tan seguros de su superioridad que piensan mantenerla pase lo que pase. Les es inalienable y eterna. El talento de los músicos necesitaba que Wilson, periodista educado en Cambridge, dijera: la revolución se hace así, yo haré la revolución. Esa es la clave. Lo demás es dejarse matar y tomar la Bastilla. Fuerza, no genio.

Es divertido observar cómo, en la presentación ante cuarenta personas de The Sex Pistols, Wilson describe el auditorio y sus componentes. “Estos serán Joy Division, que serán New Order”. Etc. Casi toda la sala, que parece un montón de yonkis setenteros, iba a ser inminentemente aclamada por las masas, rica en ocasiones. En ese momento no, pero veloz, ferozmente rápido. Es así porque el camino más corto hacia el poder es la revolución. En la vida, en la política, en el arte. Por eso el revolucionario tiene que matar, y se mancha las manos de sangre casi orgulloso: la sangre de una herencia, la sangre de una raza. Da igual.

Si alguien no está interesado en la historia musical puede seguir viéndola por el guión, más que mordaz y bien traído. A mí mismo no me quita el sueño la música de la banda sonora-que es la música de los grupos protagonistas, más o menos-. Pero el guión es buenísimo. Ejemplo práctico. Unos camellos matan a un cliente en el club. Narrador: “esto es malo en sí mismo, pero también es malo para el negocio”. Con el humor negro pasa como con los músculos. Hay que trabajar la inteligencia para que se vea. ¿Tienes músculos? Fuera esa camiseta.

Tony cita fuentes clásicas durante toda la película, narrando o hablando con los personajes. Cita a Blake, cita a Plutarco, cita a Yates. Tony mola. Pero claro, el que pone la fuerza en la revolución y suda cree que el que piensa la revolución es sólo, en el mejor de los casos, un capullo. Por eso ante sus citas la respuesta suele ser esa: eres un capullo.

Es buenísima la escena en la que él, que además de productor musical es presentador de televisión, presenta la Ruleta de la Fortuna. Comienza a hacerlo así:

-Bienvenidos a la Ruleta de la Fortuna. Ahí está. La ruleta que durante siglos ha servido para simbolizar las vicisitudes de la vida. Boecio, en su gran obra “La consolación de la filosofía”, compara la historia con una gran rueda que nos levanta para luego dejarnos caer. La inconsistencia es mi particular esencia, dice la rueda. Súbete a mis radios si quieres, pero te pido que no te quejes cuando caigas.
¡Gire la rueda!

Y dice el productor: “Joder, qué chorrada. Lo quitaremos en el montaje. De ruleta de la fortuna corta a ¡giremos la ruleta! “.

No abuso del tiempo: recorto contenido y a los hechos me remito para más delectación. Pero no me privo de recoger el final de la escena en la que le ofrecen comprar la empresa discográfica. Diálogo entre el otro empresario y Tony.

E- Je, je. No pintáis nada.    (La empresa no tiene contratos, trabajan por confianza y amistad)

T- Cierto. Pero mi epitafio será que “Yo, nunca, ni literal ni metafóricamente, me vendí”. Me he protegido de tener que dilucidar el dilema de venderme al no tener nada que vender.

(Alguien de la sala carraspea)

E-¡Tony, estás como una puta cabra!
T- Esa es una opinión.

Primera acotación de Tony Wilson dirigiéndose al público:

Esto ha pasado en la vida real. Evidentemente también es simbólico y funciona en ambos niveles. No os contaré demasiado para no estropearos la película, pero sólo os diré “Ícaro”. Si sabéis de qué hablo, bien, y si no da igual, pero deberíais leer más.

Cuando una película o un libro vomitan encima del talento un resorte envidioso libera en nuestro riego sanguíneo cierta dosis de endorfinas y nos relaja, nos permite seguir viviendo sin ser tan buenos o sin haberlo demostrado todavía. Es un genio, sí, pero morirá. Es un genio, sí, pero también un infeliz amargado que vive como un imbécil y se pasa el día colocado. Permitimos la genialidad porque creemos que esos genios no son mejores que nosotros.

Las obras que muestran la otra cara del proceso creativo, la bilis, el tormento por alumbrar la creación, esas obras-digo- deben contarse desde la admiración y la inteligencia, porque si no parecen el resultado de que un grupo de palurdos envidiosos salgan a la calle con una cámara de vídeo. 24 hour party people es una gran película porque parte de que sus protagonistas son genios y por eso viven así. No es envidia, no es rencor, no es zafiedad. Muestra la miseria del artista y el fracaso del visionario pero lo hace desde el talento propio. Con talento se sabe que pese a la capacidad las cosas cuestan trabajo y no puede hacerlas cualquiera. Son los necios los que lo ven todo fácil.

En fin. La película cuenta la revolución musical que se produjo en Manchester desde los setenta, con cierto aire documental y énfasis en el gurú que aglutinó a grupos y productores: Tony Wilson. De hecho es el protagonista y narrador. Son los príncipes los que hacen las revoluciones, porque sólo ellos están tan seguros de su superioridad que piensan mantenerla pase lo que pase. Les es inalienable y eterna. El talento de los músicos necesitaba que Wilson, periodista educado en Cambridge, dijera: la revolución se hace así, yo haré la revolución. Esa es la clave. Lo demás es dejarse matar y tomar la Bastilla. Fuerza, no genio.

Es divertido observar cómo, en la presentación ante cuarenta personas de The Sex Pistols, Wilson describe el auditorio y sus componentes. “Estos serán Joy Division, que serán New Order”. Etc. Casi toda la sala, que parece un montón de yonkis setenteros, iba a ser inminentemente aclamada por las masas, rica en ocasiones. En ese momento no, pero veloz, ferozmente rápido. Es así porque el camino más corto hacia el poder es la revolución. En la vida, en la política, en el arte. Por eso el revolucionario tiene que matar, y se mancha las manos de sangre casi orgulloso: la sangre de una herencia, la sangre de una raza. Da igual.

Si alguien no está interesado en la historia musical puede seguir viéndola por el guión, más que mordaz y bien traído. A mí mismo no me quita el sueño la música de la banda sonora-que es la música de los grupos protagonistas, más o menos-. Pero el guión es buenísimo. Ejemplo práctico. Unos camellos matan a un cliente en el club. Narrador: “esto es malo en sí mismo, pero también es malo para el negocio”. Con el humor negro pasa como con los músculos. Hay que trabajar la inteligencia para que se vea. ¿Tienes músculos? Fuera esa camiseta.

Tony cita fuentes clásicas durante toda la película, narrando o hablando con los personajes. Cita a Blake, cita a Plutarco, cita a Yates. Tony mola. Pero claro, el que pone la fuerza en la revolución y suda cree que el que piensa la revolución es sólo, en el mejor de los casos, un capullo. Por eso ante sus citas la respuesta suele ser esa: eres un capullo.

Es buenísima la escena en la que él, que además de productor musical es presentador de televisión, presenta la Ruleta de la Fortuna. Comienza a hacerlo así:

-Bienvenidos a la Ruleta de la Fortuna. Ahí está. La ruleta que durante siglos ha servido para simbolizar las vicisitudes de la vida. Boecio, en su gran obra “La consolación de la filosofía”, compara la historia con una gran rueda que nos levanta para luego dejarnos caer. La inconsistencia es mi particular esencia, dice la rueda. Súbete a mis radios si quieres, pero te pido que no te quejes cuando caigas.
¡Gire la rueda!

Y dice el productor: “Joder, qué chorrada. Lo quitaremos en el montaje. De ruleta de la fortuna corta a ¡giremos la ruleta! “.

No abuso del tiempo: recorto contenido y a los hechos me remito para más delectación. Pero no me privo de recoger el final de la escena en la que le ofrecen comprar la empresa discográfica. Diálogo entre el otro empresario y Tony.

E- Je, je. No pintáis nada.    (La empresa no tiene contratos, trabajan por confianza y amistad)

T- Cierto. Pero mi epitafio será que “Yo, nunca, ni literal ni metafóricamente, me vendí”. Me he protegido de tener que dilucidar el dilema de venderme al no tener nada que vender.

(Alguien de la sala carraspea)

E-¡Tony, estás como una puta cabra!
T- Esa es una opinión.

I will take the slightly naughty energy of the climactic song “Rock Me Sexy Jesus” from the new film “Hamlet 2” over the shrill teen warblings of any “High School Musical” in a heartbeat.

It’s not the blasphemous blast some might expect from such a title, but it dances the line just enough to keep you riveted as to where it may go next.

This is predominantly due to the exasperated efforts of the film’s lead Steve Coogan, who throws his every last spastic muscle into his role of clueless high school drama teacher Dana Marschz. Coogan, who has yet to break big on this continent, is adored by many in his British home where his vain, tempestuous television character Alan Partridge could have easily passed for a sibling to Ricky Gervais’ immortal David Brent in the original “The Office.”

One wishes the film had as much manic manner as Coogan displays.

“Hamlet 2” is filled with devious left-field non-sequiturs, send-ups to inspirational teach films, and broad physical comedy, but these parts never gel to a whole.

Marschz’s dream of acting resulted in but a few commercial gigs (which are played in the film’s opening, echoing the same structure and eliciting the same laughs as “Tropic Thunder, which Coogan also stars). Alas, since his resume’s peak was “Frustrated Juicer User” and “Happy Herpes Sufferer,” his reach for the stars was grounded and now toils away in a teaching gig in Tuscon, Arizona.

His plays, which are based on popular films such as “Erin Brockovich,”(which would be much funnier had it not been done already in “Rushmore”) are hardly the stuff of theatrical inspiration. And when his school’s budget ax swings, the drama department is the first on the block.

Marschz meets the news with the typical “pick-yourself-up” pluck that serves as the source for so many a Hollywood drama. But Marschz is a far cry from Mr. Holland, or even a Dead Poet. So his stirring speech to save the program is less a rallying cry than it is a pitiful sob.

And speaking of pitiful, Marschz’s home life is in shambles as well, co-existing with a booze-soaked wife (Catherine Keenar) who stays pickled to purge thoughts of her sliver of a life with such a loser. His transportation needs have been reduced to roller skating to work, thanks to a prior DUI conviction, and his stage efforts are often panned by the school’s freshman critic in the school paper.
All of this seems pretty bleak, and were it not for the chipper (or oblivious) attitude of Coogan, it would appear as tragic as the film’s eponymous namesake.

But what is sorely missing in the film is any sort of development from any other character. The students are little more than stereotypes (the ultra-religious gal who falls for a bad boy, the closeted gay one, the mute chick who speaks only to deliver an inspirational monologue). The only time it dare plays with these is an amusing bit where Marschz marches to the home of one local ruffian whose parents pull him from the play. He expects them to be layabout drug addicts who don’t want their macho son singing on stage, but when he meets them, they are actually literate, well-read PhD holders who object to plays sloppy writing and preposterous storyline (which involves Hamelt, a time machine and Jesus).

Elizabeth Shue factors into the film as well, taking a good-natured shot at her own celebrity, but it hardly feels integral to the overall story.

When it comes to the final performance, which somehow manages to receive backing from the entire student body that rejects his as a clown, Marschz pulls off a show that makes the grotesqueries of Cirque du Soliel look like community theater.

But there is no emotional payoff for the students who have apparently been so transformed by this event. Sure, the music is shockingly funny (it was co-written by Pam Brady, who also co-wrote the “South Park” film), but for a film based in theater, it feels starkly un-theatrical and hollow, just a bunch of aping and mugging for the camera.

To paraphrase the Bard himself from “Hamlet,”: “Though this be madness, there is no method in’t.”

“Music is the shorthand of emotion.” – Leo Tolstoy

*****

Cowboys riding into sunsets, gangsters toting machine guns, and superheroes hurtling over buildings should be enough in themselves to stir an audience. But in movies, such scenes are always accompanied by music to help set the mood, as well as audience expectations. Sometimes these collected slices of atmospheric cues take on lives of their own, and last far beyond the motion pictures that they were intended to support.

The best soundtracks are those that became de facto documents of emerging musical movements while perfectly capturing the spirit of their times. Saturday Night Fever = disco, Car Wash = funk, American Graffiti = 50’s rock-n-roll, The Harder They Come = reggae, and so on. Soundtracks are ideally geared towards representation of musical movements because they usually have money to burn, as well as the luxury of carefully assembling the parts. Sometimes those parts come together to define an era.

Conversely, concert films like Stop Making Sense and Rust Never Sleeps seem like little more than a performing artist holding a mirror up to their own coronation. In contrast to the formula above, Stop Making Sense = Talking Heads, Rust Never Sleeps = Neil Young, etc. That’s not to say these aren’t excellent films and albums, but they aren’t as powerful as cohesive yet eclectic soundtracks, and thus they faced a steeper path to inclusion here.

Pink Floyd’s The Wall was disqualified on the basis of the album preceding the movie by a full two years. There was no soundtrack as such to the movie version of The Wall – although one was planned and eventually scrapped. It’s an excellent rock movie, and a great album, but to call The Wall a soundtrack is to cast it as self-fulfilling prophecy. The Floyd were good, but not Nostradamus good.

Here are 20 soundtracks that were that good. They anticipate or perfectly curate musical or cultural trends and have lasted long after the final credits rolled, the popcorn was swept from the aisles, and the magnetic letters removed from the front marquee, to make way for the next blockbuster…

*****

#1 – Rushmore (1999) – Listening to Rushmore is like riffing through a really cool person’s record collection. And it’s exactly what a soundtrack should be: You hadn’t heard 90% of the songs on first listen, and it jumps from style to style and era to era without ever feeling disorienting. Quite the opposite – it all holds together magnificently and every step feels carefully plotted but never forced or put on. Featuring songs from the likes of Chad & Jeremy, Creation, Unit 4 + 2, Yves Montand, and the mastermind of the whole thing, Mark Mothersbaugh (late of Devo) on a series of plucky interludes, this is a great musical journey.

#2 – American Graffiti (1973) – It’s no exaggeration to say that American Graffiti changed the way modern soundtracks are constructed. Before this, it was rare for Hollywood to license “period” music, particularly on a scope and scale this ambitious. American Graffiti’s 41 “original hits” include tracks from Bill Haley & The Comets, Fats Domino, Chuck Berry, The Beach Boys, Buddy Holly and many, many more greats. This is an excellent primer on 50’s (and early 60’s) rock-n-roll and the spirit that made rock so potent – right down to the Wolfman Jack cameos.

#3 – Purple Rain (1987) – This epic soundtrack – to a ridiculous, self-absorbed film – is beyond excellent from start to finish. ‘Let’s Go Crazy’, ‘When Doves Cry’, and the title track, along with many others, would play as many artists’ Best Of album, but it was another day at the office in the 80’s for the Purple Wizard. It’s a certified classic – even if ‘Darling Nikki’ caused a shocked Tipper Gore to launch the PMRC and sticker the world with warning labels.

#4 – The Harder They Come (1972) – The movie is a tough Jamaican take on the gangster film, with Jimmy Cliff in the starring role – and much the same could be said of the soundtrack. Featuring The Maytals, Desmond Dekker, and the Melodians (in addition to Cliff’s three excellent tracks), it’s a virtual starter kit on reggae, and one of the first albums of that genre one should own. The colorful, super-cool cover art perfectly heralds what’s inside, and like the film it punctuates, it’s an absolute – if bittersweet – joyride.

#5 – O Brother Where Art Thou? (2000) – The soundtrack to this classic Coen Brothers film brought widespread and overdue recognition to Bluegrass music almost overnight. The performances are all letter perfect, from Ralph Stanley’s chilling take on ‘O Death’ to Dan Tyminski‘s (ie the Soggy Bottom Boys) ‘Man Of Constant Sorrow’ to Emmylou Harris, Alison Krauss and Gillian Welch going otherworldly on ‘Didn’t Leave Nobody But The Baby’ and beyond. The movie and soundtrack spawned several tours and albums, but the original article best captured the levity, sadness, tradition and invention that are (now, mainstream) Bluegrass.

#6 – The Virgin Suicides (2000) – The French duo Air was an inspired choice to provide the score for Sophia Coppola’s moody film. From the opener ‘Playground Love’ – with its smoky saxophone – onward, the emotional context of the music swirls and changes, making it akin to a musical Rorschach test. What you get out of it depends on your mood going in, but rather than feeling like a rollercoaster, the album has a way of getting right at the center of emotion, that narrow strip where the heavy stuff meets; love and hate, distance and intimacy, happiness and tears. This net effect makes the Virgin Suicides one of the few albums that is equally well-suited for a candlelight dinner or a deep dark bout of mourning.

#7 – Superfly (1972) – The soundtracks to many blaxploitation films nodded and winked at inner-city issues while paying off movies that glorified the very violence that made living there such a nightmare. But Curtis Mayfield’s songs for Gordon Parks Jr.’s Superfly rise above the genre (and this movie) to truly capture what was going on in the American ghettos in the 70’s. ‘Pusherman’ and the title track took critical views of small-time hoods and their vices, and ‘Freddie’s Dead’ sounded the real consequences of living within the urban blight. This vivid, intense, and moving album might be Mayfield’s best, and stands alongside What’s Goin’ On as the best social commentary in a decade that sorely needed more of it.

#8 – Repo Man (1984) – This cult classic film was filled with punk thugs, aliens, and Harry Dean Stanton – and spawned a similarly odd and endearing collection of songs. Featuring both well and lesser-known (and mostly West Coast) punk artists, Repo Man reflects the sense of humor and juvenile fun that make punk, at its best, so vital. Nonetheless, Black Flag, Circle Jerks, Suicidal Tendencies Fear, and Iggy Pop rail with righteous boredom at the concrete wasteland of Southern California. Slam-dancing, Mohawks and “Beer” not required, but strongly encouraged.

#9 – Wild Style (1982) – Of all the movies documenting the early hip-hop scene, only Wild Style resisted the Hollywood trap(ping)s of a romantic plot line, established leading actors, and rough edges smoothed into non-existence. The soundtrack too is one of the few as-is documents of its era, and for that we should be extremely thankful. Busy Bee & DJ Starski, The Cold Crush Brothers, and Funky 4+1 take you back to a time before bling, gangsta or beef. This album is all about getting the party started and that’s it. Old skool indeed.

#10 – Singles (1992) – More than Ten, Nevermind, or Badmotorfinger, the Singles soundtrack is the defining album of the grunge era. Featuring Alice In Chains, Smashing Pumpkins, Pearl Jam, Mudhoney, and Chris Cornell, it helped lay the boundaries of both what this new sub-genre was, and what it could become. It’s weighted down by two lame Paul Westerberg tracks, and the movie it supported was a weak soap opera, but those facts should be forgiven and forgotten as it’s recognized as the seminal document of a genre bursting forth in full flower.

#11 – Saturday Night Fever (1977) – The gold standard of movie soundtracks, Saturday Night Fever has sold in excess of 25 million copies worldwide. The Bee Gees led the way with three number one hits; ‘Jive Talkin’ ‘Night Fever’, and ‘Stayin’ Alive’ - but unfortunately, there was little else of note here. If this had been a more focused single record, it might very well be the best soundtrack of all time, but the abundance of filler brings it down several notches. In spite of that, it’s still the potent party starter it was in the summer of ’77, especially if you’re not afraid of moving the needle around on the record.

#12 – The Last Waltz (1978) – Martin Scorsese’s film of The Band’s last ever performance(s) – shot at Winterland in San Francisco – is as good as it gets in concert movies. Scorsese glossed over the internal strife that was pulling the group apart, but the interview segments and rehearsal numbers make The Last Waltz a compelling reflection of one of the greatest bands of all-time. The star-studded guest appearances indicate how well regarded The Band were, and also help prevent this from becoming just another rock-star vehicle (see below for more on this phenomenon).

#13 – 24 Hour Party People (2002) – The soundtrack to this pseudo-bio-pic of Tony Wilson, Ian Curtis, and the Manchester music scene explains the missing link between punk and electronica. Smitten with the Sex Pistols, Wilson formed Factory Records and signed punk-noir geniuses Joy Division. After their lead singer Ian Curtis hung himself, the surviving members formed New Order and gave early electronica a much-needed kick in the trousers. The songs here connect the dots nicely – from the rough sweetness of Buzzcocks to the sweet roughness of Happy Mondays – and build a strong case that the influence of punk has been longer-lasting and farther-reaching than most people suspect.

#14 – The Triplets Of Belleville (2004) – Appropriately enough, the highest-ranking soundtrack to an animated feature sounds like the work of the demented offspring of Warner Brothers cartoon musical genius Carl Stalling and 30’s jazz guitarist Django Reinhardt. Ben Charest infuses all the songs with a pervasive sense of joy that ensures these songs zero in on the spot in your brainpan where giddiness and pudding reign, and you don’t mind singing the same funny tunes over and over to yourself.

#15 – Car Wash (1976) – Featuring the young Pointer Sisters, Rose Royce, Richard Pryor, and heaps of wah-wah, the Car Wash soundtrack is the perfect groove for a laid back, sunny day in the ‘70’s. It’s also one of the finest, smoothed-out funk albums of the decade. Side one of the first album alone has the title track, ‘6 O’Clock DJ (Let’s Rock)’, ‘I Wanna Get Next To You’, ‘Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is’ and ‘Zig Zag’ and the rest of the album – especially the stuff you’ve never heard – is nearly as great. Don’t let the novelty-esque quality of the title track fool you, Car Wash is not only a fabulous soundtrack, it’s one of funk’s all-time high points.

#16 – Until The End Of The World (1991) – Many bands that were “alternative” or flew beneath the critical radar for much of the 80’s were superstars by decade’s end. Until The End Of The World serves as a de facto coronation for many of them, and is loaded with great (and mostly original) tracks by the likes of U2, Talking Heads, R.E.M., Elvis Costello, Depeche Mode, and Nick Cave. Strong songs are also contributed Lou Reed and Patti Smith, who were the 70’s antecedents to many of the acts listed above. And the album is rounded out by extraordinary, but lesser known, talents like Daniel Lanois, T-Bone Burnett, and Jane Siberry. A perfect time capsule of the movers and shakers of music at this time – it couldn’t be better if it had been constructed strictly for that purpose.

#17 – Zabriske Point (1970) – Any soundtrack that boasts Jerry Garcia and Pink Floyd as its main calling cards is bound to be good, and Zabriske Point doesn’t disappoint. Garcia allegedly recorded his rambling John Fahey-esque solo guitar suites while watching a looped tape of a lengthy orgy scene from the film. The original single album soundtrack also features Kaleidoscope, Patti Page, Fahey, and the Youngbloods. But it’s the double disc version, which includes a bunch of Floyd and Garcia outtakes, that makes this such a worthwhile listen and one of the great soundtracks of all-time.

#18 – Crumb (1995) – R. Crumb is a cantankerous old goat who draws filthy cartoons, loathes modern society, and listens to nothing but old-time 78’s. Thank goodness for all of it. The soundtrack is a faithful recreation of the ragtime, jugband, and stomp music that Crumb is so fond of, and features David Boeddinghaus performing spot-on renditions of songs by the likes of Scott Joplin, Jelly Roll Morton, and “publisher unknown”. Every note of it came from public domain, and it’s all brilliant. If you like this, check out Cheap Suit Serenaders, a band Crumb and director Terry Zwigoff – both avid record collectors – formed so they could play exactly this kind of old-timey goodness.

#19 & #20 – Wattstax (1972) & Woodstock (1970) – As tempting as it is to draw parallels between lily-white Woodstock and the more soulful Wattstax, (which was, for example, held nearly three years to the day after Woodstock) these music festivals had very little in common. Everybody behaved at Wattstax, for one thing. Nobody was killed, no babies were born (or conceived) and nobody took any brown acid (although that clearly would have been the color of the good acid at this festival). Wattstax was a single day event, held on August 20th, 1972 at the Los Angeles Coliseum. Memphis label Stax Records sponsored the event, and its artists – including Isaac Hayes, Rufus and Carla Thomas, The Bar-Kays, and Albert King – thrilled a capacity crowd of 100,000.

Culturally, Woodstock is a mushroom cloud to Wattstax’ cloud of dust, but musically the roles are reversed. Woodstock has a number of fine moments, led by Jimi Hendrix’ frenetic take on the ‘Star Spangled Banner’, Santana’s blistering ‘Soul Sacrifice’ and Richie Havens’ million watt performance of ‘Freedom’, but the rest of the soundtrack rarely approaches these peaks. Still, it’s a fun trip back to the time when rock festivals were strange and threatening beasts that deserved 36-point type on front pages across the land.

*****

Also nominated…

Spinal Tap
Requiem For A Dream
Ray!
Dogtown & Z-Boys
Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels
Easy Rider
Bladerunner
High Fidelity
Almost Famous
Willie Wonka & The Chocolate Factory
Blow Up
A Clockwork Orange
Dazed & Confused
Heavy Metal
Lenny
The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly
How High
Boogie Nights
Wag The Dog
Animatrix
Hedwig & The Angry Inch
Out Of Sight
The Big Lebowski
Moog

*****

Don’t hold this disclaimer up to a mirror…

These are clearly great albums that deserve recognition. However, since they’re mostly soundtracks of the performer creating the soundtrack itself, it didn’t seem right to include them. And before you start pointing out The Last Waltz from above – that’s Scorsese, man, so shut it.

Neil Young – Rust Never Sleeps
Lynyrd Skynyrd – Free Bird
Bob Dylan – No Direction Home
Talking Heads – Stop Making Sense
Pink Floyd – The Wall*

*[Floyd being Floyd as recreated by cartoons, puppets, and Bob Geldof]

*****

Overlooked gems…

The Lost Boys
9&1/2 Weeks
Bob Roberts
The American Astronaut
Ascenseur pour l’eschafaud [music by Miles Davis]
Decline Of Western Civilization, Pt 1

*****

Lifetime Achievement Awards…

Ennio Morricone – The king of the spaghetti western has been providing scores and soundtracks for movies of all kinds for more than 4 decades. A genius and giant of the genre. Nominated for 4 Acadamy Awards, he’s won none.

Carl Stalling – Warner Bros cartoons music man for nearly the breadth of their golden age, he provided the sound effect laden music that Bugs, Daffy, and friends enacted their comic operas to.

Wes Anderson & Mark Mothersbaugh – The director (Anderson) and musical director behind the brilliant soundtracks for Rushmore, The Royal Tennanbaums, and The Life Aquatic. If they never make another, their fame is still sealed.

John Hughes – The Breakfast Club, Pretty In Pink, and Sixteen Candles, were classic 80’s teen fare, but Hughes always crammed his films with as many good tunes as possible. From Simple Minds ‘Don’t You Forget About Me’ to Psychedelic Furs ‘Pretty In Pink’ there are many memorable musical moments in his movies.

Cameron Crowe – The long time Rolling Stone journalist turned director has put together some of the best soundtracks of his generation. Singles, Almost Famous, and others are terrific, and scenes like the ‘Tiny Dancer’ singalong in Almost Famous and the John Cusack holding his boombox over his head in Say Anything are classics.

En estos momentos debería estar reseñando “The Savages”, sin embargo no puedo evitar la tentación de seguir paladeando un poco más la voz grave de Ian Curtis.

Si algun@ se dejó seducir (como para no dejarse) por la arrolladora y brillante “24 Hour Party People” (2002) del ecléctico Michael Winterbottom, estoy segura de que “Control” (2007) no les decepcionará.

Winterbottom nos regalaba un magnífico paseo de la mano de Tony Wilson, fundador de la Factory Records, por la historia de la música de los años 70 a los 90 y en ese camino descubríamos los primeros pinitos de los Joy Division: el innovador grupo nacido tras el punk que únicamente publicó dos discos a causa de la prematura muerte de su líder y cantante Ian Curtis.

“Control” se centra precisamente en una parte de la vida de Curtis cuyo trágico suicidio también aparecía relatado en “24 Hour Party People”. Sin embargo, el tono utilizado en ambas películas es diametralmente opuesto: la desenfrenada y cachonda fiesta continua que destilaba la cinta de Winterbottom se torna en algo oscuro y triste en el film dirigido por Anton Corbijn.

La película se inicia presentándonos a un adolescente Ian Curtis al que no le interesan los estudios y que se decanta por otras inquietudes y así, en su habitación observamos discos de David Bowie, un póster de Lou Reed o un cartel alusivo a Jim Morrison y descubrimos algunas de sus lecturas entre las que cabe destacar “Crash” de J.G. Ballard (algún día debería escribir sobre el gran David Cronenberg) o “El almuerzo desnudo” de William Burroughs (ídem). Introspectivo y amante de la poesía, Ian fue el típico “creep” que plasmaba su mundo interior a través de la escritura y que “se hizo mayor” demasiado deprisa.

Tras casarse con Debbie cuando tan sólo contaba con 19 años y siendo padre de Natalie a los 22, Ian compaginó en un principio su rutinario trabajo en una oficina de empleo con los primeros pasos de esa banda que tomó su nombre de uno de los burdeles que los soldados alemanes frecuentaban durante la Segunda Guerra Mundial.

Inmersos en la vorágine de conciertos que les darían a conocer, Curtis sufrió su primer ataque epiléptico. Atiborrado a pastillas que le sumían en un estado de somnolencia y apatía, el cantante dejó su medicación por lo que sus ataques se convirtieron en algo demasiado frecuente que, incluso, llegaban a producirse en medio de una actuación. Sus fans solían no darse cuenta de este hecho, ya que estaban acostumbrados a sus habituales movimientos espasmódicos cuando bailaba sobre el escenario.

Casado con una mujer a la que ya no amaba pero de la que no quería divorciarse, padre de una niña a la que apenas veía, enamorado de una joven belga a la que no podía abandonar, aplastado por la incontrolable epilepsia, sumido en un bache económico, asustado ante los primeros éxitos y con una gira por Estados Unidos en ciernes, Ian no resistió la presión y se ahorcó en la cocina de su casa el 18 de mayo de 1980 (el chiste fácil sobre la horrible “Stroszek” de Herzog, me lo ahorro). Tenía 23 años.

Anton Corbijn (fotógrafo de grupos como los propios Joy Division y director de vídeos musicales como “Personal Jesus” de los Depeche Mode) dirige esta película basándose en “Touching From a Distance”, la obra que escribió la viuda del cantante Deborah (Debbie) Curtis.

Rodada en un opaco y maravilloso blanco y negro, “Control” nos muestra el tormento vivido por Curtis y asistimos, así, a su progresivo deterioro en todos los sentidos. Siempre con un cigarrillo entre los dedos, con la pena pintaba en el rostro o deambulando con su petate por las grises calles de Macclesfield, Ian demuestra en cada gesto que su apego a la vida pende de un hilo.

A excepción de Samantha Morton (a la que hemos podido ver en “Acordes y desacuerdos” (1999) de Woody Allen, “Minority Report”(2002) de Steven Spielberg, “En América” (2002) de Jim Sheridan, la soporífera “Morvern Callar” (2002) de Lynne Ramsay, “Código 46” (2003) de Michael Winterbottom o “El libertino” (2004) de Laurence Dunmore) que encarna a Debbie, el resto son actores prácticamente desconocidos. Los intérpretes que dan vida a los componentes de Joy Division también reinterpretan las canciones del desaparecido grupo, único punto negativo de esta excelente película puesto que nos escamotean la peculiar voz del verdadero Curtis, aunque debo reconocer el destacable trabajo de Sam Riley.

Dotada (como no podía ser menos) de una espectacular banda sonora en la que encontramos cortes de David Bowie, Sex Pistols, Kraftwerk, Iggy Pop, The Buzzcocks, The Killers, The Velvet Underground, Roxy Music, New Order (la banda formada tras la muerte de Curtis) y, por supuesto, pequeñas joyas de los Joy Division como “Transmission”, “Dead Souls”, “Atmosphere” o la conocidísima y reversionada “Love Will Tear Us Apart”, “Control” recibió el Premio de la Juventud y el Label Europa Cinema en el Festival de Cannes de 2007.

Dios salve a los Joy Division   

El verdadero Ian Curtis    

Trailer (en inglés)

Para ver la ficha de la película, pinchad aquí

Briony 

24 Hour Party People is a crazy movie and not quite what I was expecting. When I heard the title and saw the psychedelic colors on the cover of the DVD, I immediately thought trippy rave movie, (similar to Groove). And when the opening credits came on, it seemed like I was right. I’m not really into that type of movie (mostly because I’m not really into that type of lifestyle) but a friend highly recommended it to me and it stars Steve Coogan (as Tony Wilson) so I knew it couldn’t be all bad, even if it was about ecstasy and disco balls. As it turns out, 24 Hour Party People is not about raves (well, not at first anyway) and it is a fantastic, albeit weird movie.

Party People is about the music scene in Manchester starting in the mid ’70s, told from the point of view of Tony Wilson, the guy who kick started the whole scene. This film utilizes some elements that I don’t normally like in a movie but for some reason or other, they worked out really well in this instance. For example, Steve Coogan, the narrator and the main character, didn’t do a voiceover for the narration. Instead, he would momentarily take himself out of the scene and look at the camera, addressing the viewer. Normally, that comes off as hokey and gimmicky, but Coogan (especially as Wilson) is perfectly suited to do just such a thing. Also, Party People was such a hectic, fast paced movie that it was jumping in and out and all over the place constantly so it never seemed out of place when Coogan would do such unusual narration.

Generally speaking, this is a movie that doesn’t sit perfectly in any genre. It’s part music movie, part biography, part comedy, part drama, with lots of other parts thrown in for good measure. Director Michael Winterbottom (who recently did A Mighty Heart with Angelina Jolie) seemed sure enough of what he wanted, and wasn’t particularly interested in making it flow smoothly. The biographical parts seemed almost secondary to the story. When Ian Curtis of Joy Division killed himself, we’re hardly given any rhyme or reason as to why it happened (if you’re interested in the rhyme and reasons, check out the new Ian Curtis biopic, Control, directed by Anton Corbijn). I think what we see in the movie as “important” is only what was important to Tony Wilson or Michael Winterbottom. Such as all of the quick scenes of Tony Wilson (a reporter for Granada Reports) at various locations, shooting stories and interviews. My personal favorite is when he’s talking to some sheep herder who is actually yelling orders at a duck (”Go left!”) while shaking a stick at it. The duck obeys and then herds the sheep. It’s hilarious and out of place, like most of the scenes in this movie. But when they’re strung together, they seem to be cohesive in some sort of indirect way.

24 Hour Party People is certainly not for everyone. I recommend having an interest in music history, especially ’80s British music. That will help. Also, if you’re a big fan of Steve Coogan (and why wouldn’t you be?) then this here is a 2 hour Steve Coogan marathon. I also definitely recommend not watching this if you already have a headache (like I did) because it will only make it worse. That being said, if you’ve got any two of the three, then make haste and watch this movie. You won’t regret it.

Yesterday’s Guardian newspaper (UK), 30th June 2008 had this article by Frank Cottrell Boyce (24 Hour Party People, A Cock and Bull Story et al)

Makes for an interesting read. it also had a link to this site. After a quick preliminary scan of the site it looks like quite an interesting. Think it’s going to be very Hollywood-centric but worth a gander I should think. If’s its good enough for the writer of cock and bull it’s good enough for me!

Yes he did!

From a modern masterpiece, 24 Hour Party People. Tony Wilson is God! You doubt me????? YOU DARE TO DOUBT ME!

Here’s evidence!

What? YOU STILL DON’T BELIEVE ME? Sod off then, you crazy 80’s obsessed safety dancer!

While watching 24 Hour Party People on IFC tonight,

24 hour party people trailer:

youtube

I had never seen the film, and now it has become a favorite, and I want to see it again,

it made me think maybe, just maybe

the ’80’s weren’t so bad (nod to julie)

Example from film:

Joy Division

Love will tear us apart

youtube

See also:

“Joy Division” documentary Trailer

In 1976 four young men from ruined, post-industrial Manchester, England went to see the Sex Pistols. They formed a band, Joy Division. Three years later it was a matter of art, life and death. Now thirty years later, they are enjoying a larger audience and more influence than ever before with a profound legacy that resonates fiercely in today’s heavily careerist music industry and over-mediated pop culture.

youtube

See also:

Joy Division was an English rock band that formed in 1976 in Salford, Greater Manchester. With their dark, cavernous sound and use of synthesizers and electronics, they pioneered the post-punk sound of the late 1970s and the early 1980s. The band dissolved in May 1980 after the suicide of its lead singer, Ian Curtis. The remaining members reformed as New Order and went on to achieve much critical and commercial success.

wiki




Tony Wilson vede Dio. Ha la faccia di Shaun Ryder. 8,2.

11:28 pm. Es un lunes simple, y sin embargo, mi apatía cotidiana no logra borrar la sonrisa que existe en mis labios desde el sábado. Más de un viaje existió ese día. Se debe de aprender que las geografías no son sólo físicas, y muchos son los caminos que se forjan entre los tejidos de notas musicales y las pupilas de las personas que uno quiere. De verdad, no alcanzo a concebir un mejor destino que el que nos muestra un viento frío que con sus notas filosas se pasea entre amigos.

Oh is this the way they say the future’s meant to feel? Or just 20,000 people standing in a field.

Cold War Kids, las primeras tonadas que llegan a mis oídos, nada que despierte mi asombro. Camino entre cientos de personas, encuentro rostros conocidos, y rostros que me gustaría conocer. Antiguas amistades se convierten en reencuentros. Pareciera que va a ser una noche larga, llena de luces, de movimientos. Una de esas noches que pueden contener al mundo entero, una de esas noches en donde todo va a estar bien.

De la distancia llegan nuevas notas, Disco Ruido, un buen pretexto para bailar. Las sonrisas comienzan un vuelo que en algún momento pareció no tener fin. Salto de un lado para otro, doblo las rodillas, subo, bajo, meneo mi cuerpo entre el humo y las personas.

El estomago me esta matando, busco un poco de agua, no consigo nada, busco la unidad médica y un pepto soluciona mi malestar. Ahora abandono a The Cribs y comparto con Yorch Lo-Fi-Fnk. Entonces aparece un pez naranja.

And I don’t quite understand just what this feeling is. But that’s okay ’cause we’re all sorted out for E’s and wizz.

Corremos, Saltamos, Cantamos, estamos entre amigos, estamos felices. La música se estrella contra nuestros rostros, transportada por luces de colores. El frío parece no hacer mella en nuestros cuerpos. Descubrimos que el mundo se constituye por pulsos, por ritmos. Todo lo que nos rodea tiene y nos envuelve en un palpitar específico. Ciclos y secuencias dictan nuestro proceder y nos obligan a su vez a producir nuevos ritmos. Nuestro entorno se puede resumir en beats y todo beat puede traducirse en música. El cielo entero se convierte en una nota que sabemos y cantamos, que compartimos con los demás.

At 4 o’clock the normal world seems very, very, very far away. Alright.

Un hombre de corbata y lentes se sube al escenario: Jarvis. Las palabras no alcanzan, la música es genial, llamamos a los amigos por celular, compartimos las canciones. Yorch y yo nos sentamos en el pasto, agradecemos la amistad mutua. Es un momento ideal para que se pare el mundo, Y, en efecto, se detiene, y por unos segundos uno agradece con toda la sinceridad que conoce, mucha o poca, poder compartir momentos así con los amigos.  Dos canciones de Cut Copy, hubiera querido más, sin embargo, dos canciones muy disfrutables.  M.I.A. hermosa, se erige en el escenario entre  alarmas y balazos, nada mal, nada mal…

Entonces, la noche se rebela como epifanía, estoy escuchando a los Beastie  Boys, a mi lado una hermosa mujer rubia, con unos ojos azules que podrían encender la totalidad del cielo si así lo quisieran. Bailamos, reímos y mientras “Sabotage” suena, acompañada por miles de gritos, mis labios encuentran los de una mujer salida de la mitología romana. Una luna artificial, nada en la venenosa flor de sus labios, con una pálida complicidad. Encuentro en su boca un sonido que es más alto que cualquier Dios, un canto nunca escuchado. El milagro desnudo se viste de cuerpo y la saliva se adelanta al deseo con pasos mudos…

Sigo sonriendo, esperando que este gusto a ensueño dure al menos un día más.  

Muchas cosas han pasado desde la última vez que visité este espacio. Para empezar las rutas trazadas en el mapa de una tierra particular, que existió, únicamente, entre pistas, mensajes y mi imaginación,  quedan sólo como marcas estériles en las palmas de las manos.

Por otro lado tuve la oportunidad de participar en el FICCO. Como apasionado del cine la experiencia de platicar con críticos, directores y curadores fue por demás grata, no obstante, debo confesar que lo mejor de todo esto radicó en la fiesta de clausura, la cual fue magnifica. Claro que mi principal motivo para asistir era la cabellera pelirroja de la mujer que me contrato como traductor para el festival: Adriana. Esa noche mis dedos ansiosos buscaban dibujar nuevos caminos por las carreteras de su cabello, descubrir el mar de su vientre, para permanecer naufrago en un tacto hasta ahora desconocido, complicidad de piel en donde la dicha radica en ahogarse en la oscuridad de cuatro paredes. Las luces, el alcohol, la música eran disfrutables, pero no tanto como la sospecha de sus labios en juguetona comunión con los míos… Por supuesto nada de esto sucedió, al menos no con Adriana. En el momento que su ausencia se hizo realidad, me dedique a buscar una silueta que pudiera sustituir mis anhelos: se llama Daniela, y de ella, o Adriana, no he sabido más. Por suerte, tengo que llamar a Adriana pronto para ver lo de mi pago, quizá ahí, tenga la oportunidad, y el tiempo, de al menos, compartir una taza de café… sólo Dios sabe.

1976 befann sig den brittiske TV-profilen Tony Wilson på Sex Pistols första framträdande i Manchester. Visserligen fanns bara en handfull personer i publiken men Wilson blev så inspirerad av vad han såg och hörde att han bestämde sig för att hjälpa den nya musikvågen på traven. Livemusikklubben Factory blev skivbolaget Factory och Wilson gav ut Joy Division och Happy Mondays samtidigt som ravekulturen såg dagens ljus på hans klubb Hacienda.

Om allt detta handlar Michael Winterbottoms 24 Hour Party People, som låter Wilson (spelad av Steve Coogan) bli en självmedveten ciceron genom sitt liv. Det är gryniga bilder, skakig handkamera och ironiska sidokommentarer till publiken medan vi bjuds på en tur genom lite sex, en hel del knark och massor av rock’n’roll.

Bitvis är det riktigt kul. Även om sanningshalten kanske kan betvivlas finns det gott om underhållande episoder, och Winterbottom har ett drivet berättande även om det emellanåt blir en överdos av skakiga bilder. Men det finns förstås en poäng med den röriga, nerviga stilen: det är stundtals nästan lika knarkat som Shaun Ryder.

För den som är genuint intresserad av den här musiken och epoken är förmodligen filmen extra intressant. Annars ter det sig som en förvisso underhållande utflykt på rock’n’roll-territoriet som egentligen inte ger så många insikter.

TV-tips: Visas i SVT2 torsdag 17/1 (ikväll!) kl 22:25.

Andra bloggar om film, recension, 24 hour party people, steve coogan

Control, the debut film by celebrated rock photographer and video maker Anton Corbijn, documenting the life of Ian Curtis, late frontman of Manchester’s post-punk band Joy Division, is playing at UofL’s Floyd Theatre (SAC W308) Thursday, January 17 @ 6:00, 8:30 pm. It’s essentially free ($1 with student ID, $2 w/o) & if you’ve got the time, there’s no reason to miss this.

Then, if you like Control, I strongly encourage the immediate renting of 24 Hour Party People….as it loosely documents Manchester’s Factory Records incredible rise to fame, as just as quickly its demise. By association, it also documents Joy Division, New Order, Happy Mondays, and bits here & there about a few others…I absolutely loved 24 Hour Party People & strongly encourage going to see Control.

Control - official trailer

24 Hour Party People- official trailer

Walked down the road last night to the Phoenix Cinema to a preview screening of Anton Corbijn’s new film Control about Ian Curtis and Joy Division. Corbijn came to England from the backwaters of the Netherlands in the late 70s as a photographer and spent his first 14 days here tracking down the band Joy Division to take their picture. He went on to direct videos for them and others of that generation like U2. He re-mortgaged his house to finance this film so it’s a real labour of love from a person with a first-hand perspective of the characters and events.

One of the characters showed up after the screening for a Q&A chaired by journalist and producer Paul Morley (who also has a first-hand perspective of the post-punk scene in Manchester - including having stood Joy Division up for an early recording session) - the character in question was the bassist Pete Hook.

Unlike today, as Hooky explained, not much of that classic era was recorded for posterity. People didn’t have the cash to film stuff so there’s hardly any footage from the early years after Warsaw evolved into Joy Division or when Joy Division disappeared off the scene for a while for a Robert Johnson-like moment and reappeared transformed with magical qualities.

The band didn’t even have the facilities to record the songs they composed in a matter of hours at Wednesday (2 hours) and Sunday (3 hours) rehearsals. Those great songs only existed in the heads of those four individuals until they got into the studio together, where laying them down was to a large degree an act of memory.

Morley pointed out the key role played by legendary producer Martin Hannett - not just in adding depth to the music but recording it in a timeless way so that Unknown Pleasures shows none of the aging signs of many other records of that era.

The scene that best captured the brilliance of Joy Division for me was the recording of Isolation with Hannett sitting at the mixing desk, fag in mouth and mad hair a go go, with Curtis behind him, alone in the glass booth, singing with sweet intensity.

I also liked the sequence where Curtis crosses the line from his epileptic dancing - which I saw for myself at the Lyceum in London when Joy Division supported fellow Mancs the Buzzcocks in around 1978/9, frankly an embarrassing spectacle at the time - from his epileptic dancing into an on-stage seizure as if brought on by his own intensity.

I know to use the word ’seizure’ not ‘fit’ because I made a film for the British Epilepsy Association at a location in the very same high street as the Phoenix - entitled The Right Stuff. It was a drama and I had to accurately recreate a seizure with an actress from Byker Grove (who strangely enough I later came across working at the ticket office of the Phoenix when her thesp work was thin on the ground). My title graphics - like Corbijn’s - took their cue from the idea of electrical disruption.

In the same high street I bought, only last year, the copy of Atmosphere whose Pete Saville designed cover Hooky signed for me last night.

When asked which scene was most poignant for him Pete Hook said it was the one in the pub after Ian’s wake - he said it was the most true-to-life scene in the film. All the friends sitting around the table in shock, sorrow, anger and a discordant medley of emotions was very resonant for me too as it had strong echoes of the pub me, Stuart, Carol and co. visited in Southgate after the funeral of our friend Steve. Should we have spotted something? How come he was so up on the phone just hours before, making plans for the not too distant future? Hooky said: We should have known, just looking at the lyrics alone - but you choose not to, don’t you?

Now I’m a huge fan of Michael Winterbottom’s 24 Hour Party People and, for all the love that’s gone into this and the very impressive performances (the cast play many of the tracks), it’s not in the same class. This is mainly down to the script which hardly has a scene longer than a half-dozen lines of dialogue, which precludes it having much depth. The romance between Ian and Annik, for example, hasn’t much fire - although I liked the detail that when Debbie Curtis finds her rival’s phone number it’s scribbled on the gatefold sleeve of Siouxsie and the Banshee’s Join Hands. Icon is the great track on that top record and the Icon award is what Pete had just picked up at the Diesel music or some such awards before this cinema session. In the audience had been Debbie Curtis, Paddy Considine (24 Hour Party People), Sam Riley (Control) and various other real and fictitious characters from the Joy Division story. According to Hooky, something of a headfuck (he’s a Shameless curser). But a reflection of the dynamic where a largely unrecorded-at-the-time story is gradually pieced together as people work out what went down, an amalgamation of individual perspectives. Pete mentioned how interesting he’d found it watching the recent Joy Division documentary as he heard Bernard and Steve’s interviews - they’d never spoken toegther in that way. It was clear from the emotion in the auditorium last night that Ian’s suicide cast a long shadow.

This post is dedicated to the memory of Steve Simmons, with whom I shared some great adventures