black and tan eyes

RIP Ingmar Bergman (1918-2007)

2007-07-30T22:26:00.000+12:00

Evan, MA (Hons)

2007-05-11T22:43:00.000+12:00

Tramwaj (Krzysztof Kieślowski, 1966) (soundtrack by Skalpel)

2007-02-10T19:13:00.000+13:00

This charming short was Polish master Krzysztof Kieślowski's first fiction film. Originally silent, here it is set to the trip-hop/jazz track "So Far" by Polish outfit Skalpel, which makes for a tasteful accompaniment.

What's notable about this early film is that in it one can already perceive themes - loneliness, obessession, voyeurism - that find their way into Kieślowski's later works, especially his remarkable 10-film cycle, Dekalog. He is a fascinating director, whose films deserve to be seen and cherished.

Tom Waits Orphans

2007-01-26T05:59:00.000+13:00

Tom Waits has characterised the 56 songs on his new three-disc anthology Orphans as “songs that fell behind the stove while making dinner”. Comprising outtakes from album sessions, songs that Waits and wife Kathleen Brennan wrote for film soundtracks and stage productions, cover versions and experiments that didn’t really fit anywhere else, Orphans is by turns a stomping, heartfelt, frightening set of tunes that should keep the ardent Waits admirer happy for a while. If a new album from this maverick musician and master songwriter is an event, a triple album should be the occasion for a parade of some sort. Anyway…

The first disc Brawlers reveals the rockier, bluesier side of Waits we last heard on his 1999 album Mule Variations. On this relatively uniform set of songs, Waits still manages to dabble in a variety of styles, ranging from rockabilly to mambo, rocksteady to backporch blues. The sound is characterised by grinding guitars, wheezing horns and railway-yard percussion, with Waits yowling, growling, crooning and rasping his way through all sixteen tracks. Highlights include the deranged Elvis stylings of “Lie to Me”, the down ’n’ dirty groove of “2:19”, the maniacal boast of a prisoner served with “Fish in the Jailhouse”, and the raw folk-blues “Buzz Fledderjohn” – a tale of suburban myth and mystery that sounds a hundred years old. Another noteworthy track is "Road To Peace", a bitter commentary on the grim stalemate that is the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and Waits’ most explicit political song to date.

Waits is one of the great American balladeers and Orphans’ second disc includes Bawlers from both of his two rough categories: a) piano-based jazz croons, lullabies and torch songs, and b) sepia-toned slices of Americana, evocative of long and lonely highways, dusty backstreets and abandoned roadhouses and populated by lost souls, repentant crooks, small-time hustlers and itinerant workers unable to leave the road. Of the first category we have here a new stunner “You Can Never Hold Back Spring” (which could well pass for a 1920s gramophone waltz number), the winsome “Bend Down The Branches” and the languid, reflective “World Keeps Turning”. One man’s wistful plea to a former love (“Tell It To Me”), a rueful caution against taking the wrong path in life (“Fannin Street”) and a heartrending tale of tragedy in a backwoods town (“The Fall of Troy”) are among the best of the second lot. Of course, there are also those tracks not so easily pigeonholed: "Widow’s Grove" is in the style of a French chanson, “Never Let Go” is a stirring hymn to fidelity, while “Take Care Of All Of My Children” sounds like an Irving Berlin ditty from the War years. For me, Waits is at his best when he does ballads and Bawlers contains some of the very best songs he has ever written and recorded. It’s a wonder they remained officially orphaned until now.

As suggested by its title, Bastards is the most eclectic of the three discs and the one most redolent of Waits’ exotic, erratic tastes and dark, earthy wit. During this hour-plus of esoterica, you will be exposed to, among other things, creepy spoken monologues (an unorthodox “Children’s Story”, a list of disturbing facts about insects on “Army Ants”), adaptations of Beat writers Kerouac and Bukowski (“Home I’ll Never Be”, “On The Road”, “Nirvana”) and engaging oddities laced with Waits’ patented vocal percussion (“Spidey’s Wild Ride” and a roaring, chest-beating cover of Daniel Johnston’s “King Kong”). Tom also turns the Disney tune “Heigh Ho” into a taskmaster’s chant, bleats out an Appalachian murder ballad on “Two Sisters” and goes electronic on “Dog Door”. Finally, this third disc is capped with two very entertaining hidden tracks: one is a piece of live between-song banter in which Waits relates his discovery of a sinister variety of dog treat, the other has Tom narrating the kind of adventure at a supermarket that only he could experience.

Though many of these tracks have been previously available on bootleg albums and a few more songs have been left behind the stove, Orphans satisfies this fan. My only nitpick are the liner notes, which are scanty on recording dates and vague on exactly which musicians played on which tracks. Lack of such information does reinforce a sense of continuity between the songs, but I wish Tom would have offered some of his usual documentary details in the listings. Waits neophytes probably shouldn’t start here (try Rain Dogs instead) but once one has acclimatised oneself to this legend of American music, Orphans should be an indispensable listen.

This review was published, with minor alterations, in the Summer School 2007 issue of Craccum.

boy in the 'hood

2007-01-21T17:45:00.000+13:00

Tim Finn and Richard Thompson - Persuasion

2007-01-19T08:11:00.000+13:00

Thompson's lead guitar and backing vocals make a great song even better.

Well Well Well

2007-01-09T14:35:00.000+13:00

I'm flattered. Ellis Sharp has responded to my comments on his piece on Little Chef. Instead of debating any of my key points, he decides to ridicule me. No surprises there of course - I wasn't expecting him to descend to the level of us mere mortals.

I’ve been aware for some time that this blog has a small but zealous following in the troll nether-world. It is avidly monitored for the scandalous outrages it commits against The Only Democracy in the Middle East.

He said it, not me.

I am not going to supply any links because, where trolls and Klingons are concerned, I do not believe in decency and fair play.

No news there. Sharp doesn't believe in decency or fair play anyway.

As for my closed Comments box – guys, just think of it as a separation barrier and you’ll feel much better about it, won’t you?

I'm surprised he didn't ask us to think of it as an "Apartheid Wall".

Sharp takes me to task over my apparent misunderstanding Azorim's last plan for Little Chef. Seems it was just a sardonic comment on the food they serve. I'll take that, but it seems a rather gratuitous inclusion in what was just another "the Zionist Entity is Evil" rant.

I do wish people wouldn’t get obsessed about Israel and have to bring it into everything.

This from a man who tried to explain the previous year's Mumbai bombings by pointing to India's supposed pro-Zionist Hindutva foreign policy.

A Pair o' Pxts

2007-01-08T06:35:00.000+13:00

These were taken with my Motorola V360 - they won't win any awards for composition, but they have a "rugged" charm (or at least I think so...)

The gates to the old Jewish cemetery, at the corner of K Road and Symonds Street, Auckland

A full moon - as seen through my bedroom window sometime around 3AM...

Richard and Linda Thompson - A Heart Needs A Home (Old Grey Whistle Test, 1975)

2007-01-06T21:06:00.000+13:00

Do yourself a favour and watch this beautiful performance of a beautiful song.

David Malouf on Patrick White

2007-01-05T22:36:00.000+13:00

Via The Complete Review. The Times has just published a piece by Australian novelist David Malouf on fellow Aussie author, Nobel Laureate Patrick White, who seems to have fallen into disrepute in his native land: Patrick White Reappraised

Incidentally, I am just about to begin White's novel The Tree of Man. The only White novel I have read so far is The Solid Mandala (which Malouf mentions in some detail). It's literature of the highest quality and I heartily recommend it.

The Sharp Files

2007-01-05T13:29:00.000+13:00

Ellis Sharp is a Marxist blogger with a Manichean outlook on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. He has been relatively quiet lately, but a recent, seemingly inconsequential bit of news has pricked his interest. It appears that Israeli property firm Azorim has invested in the British restaurant chain Little Chef. And as everything Israeli is marked with taint in the mind of Ellis Sharp, he takes the opportunity to launch a veiled attack on the State of Israel, listing his own, "satirical" speculations on "Arazim’s future plans for the chain":

1. All land within a radius of 100 miles of each Little Chef will be seized by troops and tanks under the slogan “After 2000 years, Little Chef comes home.” All residents will be evicted and their homes bulldozed. Businesses will be seized. There will be no compensation paid. The land will be used for car parking and homes for Little Chef employees.

As I pointed out in my last piece on Sharp, Ellis is adament in his belief that Jews, who suddenly decided, for no apparent reason, that after 2000 years it was time to reclaim the homeland, burst into Palestine, dispossessed the peaceable Palestinians and destroyed their homes. Of course, the complexities of real history fly in the face of such a reductionary narrative.

2. Little Chef does not discriminate. However customers of a swarthy complexion may be restricted to the fried egg menu and asked to eat in the Portaloo at the back, next to the waste containers. This is for security reasons.

Here Sharp interprets, as others are fond of doing, Israeli security measures in a discourse of Western colonial oppression. In reality, most Israeli Jews are "of a swarthy complexion", and this is especially true of the hundreds of thousands of Jews expelled from the Arab world (with businesses seized and no compensation paid) - Jews which warrant nary a mention on The Sharp Side (I wonder if Sharp is even aware of their existence?) In addition, that these Sephardi and Mizrachi Jews are physically nearly indistinguishable from Israel's Palestinian neighbours is probably the reason why suicide bombing operations are so successful, as all the attacker need do is blend in with the crowd; he would be relatively easy to spot if the rest of the diners or bystanders were Aryan. It is also worth noting that Israeli restaurants (or any other public facility for that matter) don't discrimate against Arab citizens of Israel - they are certainly not restricted to an inferior menu and required to sit out back near the portaloos.

3. Children who do not finish their meals, who play with their food, or who throw buns will be shot. Little Chef anticipates around 300-500 child fatalities in its first year of operation. The Blair government has agreed to supply free rifles and automatic weapons to all Little Chef employees.

Browsing through his blog, one receives the impression that Sharp believes that Israelis regularly murder Palestinian children for sport. They are (generally) not tragic accidents that occur during Israeli operations in the occupied territories but the intentional actions of a demoniacal people and their state. Yet, if one were to understand the killing of Palestinian children as being intentional, one should also presume that there would be more than "300-500" fatalities a year (and even that number is suspect).

4. All dissatisfied customers will be referred to by the BBC as ‘militants’ and ‘rogue elements’.

In case you didn't know, the BBC is actually a Zionist organ. That's sarcasm, by the way.

5. Visitors who call by just to use the toilets and who leave without buying even so much as a cup of coffee will be pursued down the motorway by a helicopter gunship and blasted from the face of the earth. Little Chef also strongly advises that no customers using wheelchairs attempt to patronise the chain.

Again, Sharp believes Israel sends helicopter gunships after Palestinians for little reason save to murder them for kicks. There have been reports of wheelchair-bound persons who have been killed during Israeli incursions in the West Bank, but I think the wheelchair reference is to Sheikh Yassin, the "spiritual leader" of Hamas that Israel assassinated in 2004. Israel was condemned by nearly everyone for targeting a "defenceless old man in a wheelchair" in spite of his deeds; no doubt Sharp, who refuses to interpret Israeli actions as anything other than malign, was in the chorus.

6. The exciting new ‘traveller’s menu’ will consist of (i) sliced melon starter (ii) spaghetti and chips with optional grated cheese topping (iii) Black Forest gateau (iv) complementary cup of Nescafe. The ‘kid’s fun menu’ will consist of (i) toast (available cold or lukewarm with optional toppings: marmite, minced pilchard). (ii) bowl of icecream (flavours: Cape white or Venetian mint).

I'm not sure what point Sharp is trying to make here. Perhaps the "travellers" are the Israelis "privileged" with a lavish menu, whereas the Palestinians are the "kids" who need to make do with scraps? Whatever...

Even ReadySteadyBook, the literary blog that often links Sharp's articles has expressed concern at his obsession with Israel. But Sharp, who has constructed something of an ivory tower for himself (neither of his blogs lists an email address and comments are disabled) will most likely continue to expectorate his bilious rants into cyberspace. Ah, the Net.

2007-01-01T18:54:00.000+13:00

Make of it what you will

"Kiwi!"

2006-11-13T21:09:00.001+13:00

A sweet little video for your viewing pleasure:

YouTube is a gift.

Queen A Night At The Opera

2006-10-10T16:48:00.000+13:00

Another Queenie. A Night At The Opera was arguably the first Queen LP to really elicit the attention of the music-buying public. Their fourth album, it was a commercial watershed for the band, helped in no small measure by the single Bohemian Rhapsody. Yes, we’ve all probably heard it a zillion times by now, but back in 1975, the idea of releasing a six-minute rock opera as a single sounded like commercial suicide. Well, the doubters were proven wrong and Bohemian Rhapsody went on to become one of the biggest selling singles in British chart history, a mainstay at the top of Greatest X Songs of all Time lists and the main ingredient of a memorable scene in the film Wayne’s World. Because of all the airplay, track 11 on A Night At The Opera is very much the elephant in the room that no-one notices. It remains a great song, but it is by no means the only great song on the album.

A Night At The Opera is a stylistically diverse album. As I mentioned in my previous Queen review, listeners familiar with only the hits will be surprised to discover the gems the band had hidden away as album tracks. All four members of the band contribute songs, with five Freddie Mercury and four Brian May compositions present, and one each from bassist John Deacon and drummer Roger Taylor.

The high camp of English music hall had an appeal for the flamboyant Mr Mercury, and the vaudeville element he brought to Queen’s sound (especially on the previous Queen hit, Killer Queen) is expanded on here, particularly on the jaunty, cheeky, piano-based romps Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon and Seaside Rendezvous, the former sounding like something you’d expect to hear wafting from granddad’s old gramophone. Also on offer from Freddie is the rocking opener Death On Two Legs (a rather nasty missive to an ex-manager) and a gorgeous ballad, Love of My Life, which was to become a live favourite.

Not to be outdone, May also has some tricks up his sleeve. His sci-fi folksong, ’39, with its layered acoustic guitars and vocals (which May himself provides), is one of the hidden delights of the Queen catalogue. The Prophet’s Song, written while recovering from fever is a quasi-biblical epic that vies with Bo-Rhap as the highlight of the album; its a capella middle section, which features three Freddies chanting back and forth (thanks to reverb), is quite amazing to listen to, and proof that Mercury’s voice really was an instrument unto itself. May even has a go at a vaudeville piece of his own, Good Company, which is remarkable for its turn-of-the-century jazz-band sound – clarinets, saxophones, trombones, etc – played entirely on his homemade electric guitar (he uses his dad’s old ukulele for rhythm); his technical prowess guarantees it one of the most entertaining tracks on the album. Finally, the guitarist crowns the album in true regal style with a multi-tracked instrumental of G-d Save The Queen.

As for the remaining two band members, Taylor serves up another fat slab of rawk in the form of I’m In Love With My Car, while Deacon provides the pop classic You’re My Best Friend. Even on these comparably more conventional tunes, the hallmarks of the Queen sound – the multi-tracked backing vocals and May’s guitar wizardry – raise them high above the average in 1970s pop/rock.

The more one digs into the Queen catalogue, the more riches are to be discovered. The Darkness are pretenders; Queen is king.

This review was published, with minor alterations, in Craccum, Issue 23, 2006

Queen Queen II

2006-08-16T08:34:00.000+12:00

Queen was the first band with which I really fell in love, back in my early adolescence. As my tastes in music matured and I developed greater respect for other artists, I looked back on Queen as a great singles band and nothing more… That was, until I delved deeper into their discography and discovered a quality and versatility in songwriting, musicianship and performance with which few rock groups could contend. These are fully evident on Queen’s albums from the mid-1970s – their second, eponymously-titled album in particular.

On the original 1974 vinyl release, the album’s songs were divided between a White side (Side 1) and a Black side (Side 2), the first comprising five tracks written by guitarist Brian May and one by drummer Roger Taylor and the second embraces six Freddie Mercury compositions. Bassist John Deacon, who wrote such Queen classics as Another One Bites the Dust and I Want to Break Free, would only come into his own as a songwriter on the band’s next album, Sheer Heart Attack.

Queen shunned synthesisers for much of their early career – a move which set them apart from other artists in the progressive rock subgenre. All those exotic sounds you hear on Queen II: the horn on the intro Procession, the harp on the soaring Father and Son and the cello on Some Day One Day are in fact Brain May on his home-made “Red Special” electric guitar (he gets a nifty sitar-like sound out of a beat-up old acoustic on the lovely White Queen). In addition, luxuriantly-layered vocal tracks (which would become recognised as a Queen trademark) by Mercury, May and Taylor flesh out the arrangements as fully as any orchestra or synthesiser otherwise would.

There is a light fantasy theme on Queen II which situates the album within the prog-rock movement of the early to mid-1970s. On paper the lyrics look silly with their over-the-top poetic flourishes and mock-archaisms, but Freddie sings them with such power and expression, one cannot help being moved. May and Taylor sing lead on a song each, and though neither matches Mercury’s proficiency as a vocalist, May’s soft tenor on Some Day One Day and Taylor’s throaty howl on his Zeppelin-esque The Loser in the End (probably the closest thing to a by-the-books rock song on the album) add welcome variety.

May contributes some excellent, haunting songs on Side White, but Freddie Mercury’s song sequence on Side Black is a dark, heady stew that holds the real meat of Queen II. When one thinks of the late Queen vocalist, certain images come to mind: those of the long-haired glam-rocker, the moustachioed stage-man, the HIV/AIDS martyr. Given his larger-than-life persona (or personae), it is easy to overlook what a gifted musician, arranger, pianist and songwriter he was. Here, he provides a wacky heavy-metal number (Ogre Battle), an ingenious Elizabethan court-music/hard-rock hybrid (The Fairy-Feller’s Master Stroke, which features some manic harpsichord noodlings and voice-acting from the man himself), a torch song (Nevermore), a mini-rock opera (March of the Black Queen, which is very much a precursor to Bohemian Rhapsody), a lush, sweeping pop song to do Phil Spector or Brian Wilson proud (Funny How Love Is) and the album’s sole (and Queen’s first) hit single, the baroque-and-roll of Seven Seas of Rye.

If you are only familiar with Queen through the Greatest Hits releases (especially the second one), this album will be a revelation. Though his flair for showmanship would continue unabated into the 1980s, Freddie would put his true talents on the back burner as the band reached the height of its stadium-conquering fame. Queen II is evidence that Mr Mercury’s powers were far more considerable than some would believe. On a trivial note, it is also one of Beck’s, Thurston Moore’s and Billy Corgan’s favourite albums.

This review was published, with minor alterations, in Craccum, Issue 17, 2006.

Matisyahu (with Che Fu) @ The Studio, 27 July 2006

2006-08-11T14:42:00.000+12:00

Many would have dismissed Matisyahu – an observant Jewish rapper in full Hasidic apparel – as a novelty act in the “Gregorian Monks sing U2” tradition. Yet rather than put an Orthodox Jewish spin on existing tracks, Matisyahu specialises in original songs that combine elements of Hasidic vocal music, Jewish liturgy and reggae music to create an intriguing fusion. The mix of influences is less incongruous than one would imagine: after all, Jamaican reggae artists have long drawn on the Old Testament (in effect, the Jewish bible) for inspiration and imagery. As far as lyrical themes are concerned Matisyahu is in good company.

Born Matthew Miller in 1979, Matisyahu became an observant Jew after a trip to Israel in his teens, after which he switched to his Hebrew name (Matisyahu is Ashkenazi Hebrew for Matthew), got together with some old mates and adjourned to the recording studio. The band Roots Tonic’s sound borrows from numerous genres, notably reggae, hip-hop and psychedelic rock (apparently, Matisyahu and his bandmates came together through their love of the cult band Phish). It was awful nice that they could make their way down here for a show at the cosy Studio on a cold Thursday night in July.

Kiwi hip-hop star Che Fu, back from supporting “his man” Matisyahu in Australia played a short introductory set including the “classics” Machine Talk, Misty Frequencies and Fade Away, as well as couple of new tracks from his upcoming album (I would have loved to hear Scene 3, Chains or Without A Doubt, but it was nice seeing him all the same).

A short while later, Matisyahu and Roots Tonic – guitarist Aaron Duggan, bassist Josh Werner and drummer Jonah David – appeared on stage and kicked into a set that included their recent single Youth, Jerusalem (a song about the Jewish Diaspora, whose chorus is built around an apt reference to Psalm 137 – of “By the rivers of Babylon” fame), and selection of other tracks from their major label debut Youth as well as earlier releases. We were also treated to some lengthy jams in the psychedelic vein (guitarist Duggan had an array of pedals at his disposal, and got some pretty cool sounds from his guitars), and from the man himself a little human beatboxing (he’s quite a whiz in that department), some shambling about the stage in a combination skank/Hasidic jig and plenty of “Oy-oy-oys” – a traditional Hasidic mantra that Matisyahu seamlessly incorporates into his vocal style. The highlight of the main set was no doubt Matisyahu’s signature tune, King Without A Crown. The audience was waiting for this one, and from the sound of things, they were not disappointed (the guy behind me knew all the words).

Reviewers are often amazed to discover that, for a religious musician, Matisyahu does not come across as preachy. This is largely due, perhaps, to his Jewish faith which forbids proselytising; while he does cover religious themes in his lyrics – sung in an English peppered with Hebrew and Yiddish – they mostly relate to personal experience and his own spiritual awakening. And given the present upheavals in the Middle East, it was not surprising to see him move to the front of the stage near the end of the show to offer a prayer for peace. The encore was capped by the beautiful and uplifting, and autobiographical, Time Of Your Song.

The band members mingled with the audience after the show, but the reportedly shy and soft-spoken frontman failed to show up, to my chagrin. I was, however, one of the few punters rewarded when drummer Jonah David threw a bunch of sticks into the audience (he wrote an unfortunately indecipherable message on mine after I gave it to him to autograph). Despite his not appearing for a photo at the end, I thoroughly enjoyed Matisyahu’s performance and look forward to hearing more from him and Roots Tonic in the coming years. Whether or not he is the future of rock ‘n’ roll remains to be decided; what is for certain is that the man has proven he is no mere gimmick. Shkoyach, Matisyahu!

This review was published, with minor alterations, in Craccum, Issue 16, 2006.

The Smiths The Queen is Dead

2006-08-11T14:19:00.000+12:00

“In 10 years’ time the Smiths will be viewed in the same way that the Beatles are now viewed” ~ Nick Kent, The South Bank Show, 1987

Well, it is now nine years since 1997 and while the general populace are familiar with “John, Paul, George and Ringo”, “Morrissey, Johnny, Andy and Mike” still doesn’t really strike a chord. Kent is now no doubt embarrassed by his comparison, but it’s quite apt – both the Beatles and the Smiths were two quintessentially British guitar bands and both were centred on songwriting duos of rare genius. The Beatles may have enjoyed greater commercial success, but the Smiths, England’s premier indie-rock band of the 1980s, are their equals in quality and I applaud Nick Kent for his audacity.

Though all their albums are excellent (“filler” was not a word in Steven Patrick Morrissey’s and Johnny Marr’s vocabulary), 1986’s The Queen Is Dead is surely the Smiths’ masterpiece. A mature third album, it flows beautifully from one track to the next, and although there are some obvious highlights, all the songs are top-drawer material and together form a fantastic album. Here, Marr manages to incorporate some adventurous instrumentation such as strings (performed by The Hated Salford Ensemble AKA Johnny Marr on a synthesiser) into the Smiths sound, where previously embellishment was kept at a minimum outside guitar overdubs.

The album’s two singles rank among the finest pop songs of the 1980s. Opening with a furiously strummed acoustic guitar the energetic Bigmouth Strikes Again is Morrissey’s probable apology for his then-frequent and inappropriate public outbursts. It is also vintage Morrissey with its playfully dramatic vocal and scrumptiously sardonic humour. The poppy The Boy With A Thorn In His Side cracked the British Top 30, but by rights should’ve topped the charts (along with countless other Smiths singles, but I digress…). Yet though the Smiths have often been characterised as primarily a singles band, The Queen is Dead yields other rewards.

Disenchantment with Queen and Country has always been one of Morrissey’s recurring lyrical themes, and it comes full circle on the title track. The Queen is Dead is not just a diatribe against the degenerate monarchy - it’s an indictment of 1980’s Britain as a whole - Thatcherism, Church greed and the moral bankruptcy of the English populace. A live favourite, Marr’s composition is the perfect compliment to Morrissey’s lyric - a menacing, quasi-tribal rhythm courtesy of bassist Andy Rourke and drummer Mike Joyce combined with frantic, post-punk guitar and some strings thrown in for good measure.

A quick glance through the lyric sheet would give the instant impression that Morrissey enjoys writing from the position of a hapless romantic and his outpourings would get tiresome for the listener if they were not undercut with sly humour. Despite the grand, funereal monsters I Know It’s Over and Never Had No One Ever, The Queen is Dead is a predominantly funny album. Queen Elizabeth and Prince Charles are skewered on the title track; Geoff Travis, boss of Rough Trade records and “flatulent pain in the arse” gets what’s coming to him on the music hall pastiche Frankly Mr Shankly; a transvestite clergyman makes an appearance on Vicar In A Tutu, the album’s mandatory rockabilly romp; on the brilliantly-titled Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others, Moz even references a scene from a Carry On comedy. Being one of the most literate rock stars that ever was, Morrissey has a tendency to cite and quote from his favourite books and films and Cemetry Gates is his opportunity to drop a few names, quote Shakespeare and extol his personal idol, Oscar Wilde.

The album’s masterpiece, There is a Light That Never Goes Out is more than just one of the Smiths’ greatest songs - it’s one of the greatest songs, period. It is a love song of the highest order, set against majestic layers of acoustic guitars, keyboards and strings. Morrissey, ever the morbid romantic, begs an addressee to take him away from his dark house and show him the big lights. He doesn’t care where they go, as long as it will enable him to confirm his place in the land of the living. Quite ironic, given the song’s anthemic chorus:

And if a double decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
The pleasure and the privilege is mine

A little on the melodramatic side, sure, but Morrissey’s romanticism is far from what you’d expect from a Diane Warren-penned power ballad. It's a track you won’t be likely to hear on Love Songs Coast-to-Coast and most deservedly so.

The Queen Is Dead is the one Smiths album you’d be likely to see in the top 20 of those Top 100 Albums of All Time lists that Q Magazine trots out every few months. Whether or not it’s the best thing the Smiths ever released is the fan’s decision - the important thing is that it’s a bloody marvellous listen and worth getting reacquainted with on this, the 20th anniversary of its release.

This review was published, with minor alterations, in Craccum, Issue 13, 2006.

None Too Sharp

2006-08-02T22:23:00.000+12:00

One of the more interesting anti-Israel bloggers I’ve come across in my scrounging in the back-alleys of the internet is a fellow named Ellis Sharp. He claims to be a “radical novelist” (indeed, I’ve encountered some of his books on amazon.com) and he operates a handful of blogs, in particular, The Sharp Side. Sharp’s Marxist ideology influences his perspective on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. As one can expect, he adopts the Arab narrative. Rarely have I come across “commentary” as shrill as his. In fact, he makes most other anti-Israel bloggers look like Likudniks.

One tic noticeable throughout his comments is the rather hysterical use of adjectives. For instance, he often refers to Israel as a “racist”, “sectarian”, "bellicose", "colonialist" state state established by “violent” Jews. His views on the status of the Jewish homeland can be summed up in this article, in which he excoriates Harold Pinter (of all people) and other left-leaning Jews for suggesting that Hamas recognise Israel’s right to exist:

This links up with a letter signed by prominent British Jewish artists and intellectuals, including Harold Pinter, which appeared in the Guardian on July 10. Most of it was unexceptional stuff, calling for “imaginative understanding of the hopes and fears of both sides.” But one demand placed on Hamas by Pinter and his co-signatories was “recognition of Israel.”

Now of course in one obvious sense Israel exists. But as anti-Zionist bloggers have repeatedly asked: which Israel is to be recognised? The Israel defined by the United Nations in 1948, which handed over land held by a majority Arab population to European Jews? The Israel of 1949, when the first major phase of ethnic cleansing had been completed, and Palestinians had not only been driven out of the U.N.’s defined Jewish state but a huge area of land on top of that? Or should it be Israel in 1967, when within Israel yet more ethnic cleansing had been surreptitiously carried out, and when the rest of historic Palestine was occupied? Or Israel in 2006, which has flouted innumerable UN resolutions and grabbed even more occupied land from the Palestinians? Israel 2006, presumably.

I’m not sure what Sharp means by Israel conquering a “huge” area of land (or "phases" of "ethnic cleansing"), but, then again, he is not above hyperbole. In Sharp's account, the 1948 war was nothing more than a straightforward campaign of ethnic cleansing against peaceful Palestinian communities by racist Jewish hordes. The invasion of the reborn Jewish state in 1948 by five Arab armies (the cause of the Arab refugee crisis) and any mention of Arab violence against Jews in the region are conspicuously absent from his account. He also forgets that "historic Palestine" originally included the country now referred to as Jordan (and most of what was left of the Mandate was state land that passed from the Ottomans to the British; it was not "held by a majority Arab population", as I have shown elsewhere).
It’s a little odd, for a person so apparently intelligent, to ignore such crucial historical facts in favour of, not a nuanced version of events, but a totally black-and-white villains vs. victims narrative. Palestinians are cast as the ideal Victim – not accountable at all for their own misdeeds (Sharp often goes out of his way to justify Palestinian terrorism) – while Israelis are the ideal Villain – militaristic, religious, racist, colonialist, aided and abetted by the “imperial powers” of the USA and Britain (indeed any doctrinaire Marxist’s idea of a villain).

As far as Sharp is concerned the Jews just barged their way into Palestine for little reason except to establish a “racist”, “sectarian” theocracy at the expense of the Arabs who lived there. The only Jewish settlers Sharp mentions on his blog are those from Europe and America – subtly suggesting the “colonial” or “imperialistic” nature of the Zionist enterprise (roughly half of Israel’s population are Jews from the Middle East, Asia and Africa). Sharp seems oblivious to the suggestion that Jews may have resettled in the Levant because they, as descendents of the scattered original inhabitants of that land, were seeking to reclaim it. He parrots Arab propaganda talking points almost exactly: the Jewish settlers (or modern Israelis) in Palestine/Israel have no connection whatsoever with the Middle East (which puts them in contrast to the “indigenous” Palestinians - indeed, Sharp emphasises the "indigeneity" of the Palestinians ad nauseum) and that if Jews from Europe have no connection with the Middle East, their arrival must have been solely religiously motivated (and religious nationalism is a no-no, hence the epithet “sectarian” when applied to Israeli Jews, despite the fact that the majority of the early Zionists, as well as most modern Israelis, are secular). His perspective of Israeli Jews as nothing more than foreigners can be best summed up in his article on Ankie and Andre Sprinkler.

But neither Spitzer nor her husband were born in Israel, or had any prior connections with the Middle East. Andre Spitzer was originally from Romania. Ankie was Dutch. They emigrated to Israel (Spitzer as an 11 year old with his mother, Ankie with her adult husband) under the sectarian privileges accorded to Jews by the so-called ‘Law of Return’. Any Jew anywhere in the world has the “right” to supposedly “return” to a place they have never been, while the indigenous Arab population, expelled in huge numbers in 1948 [Evan: Um, no they were not], has no right of return at all, and to this day rots in squalid refugee camps in Lebanon and other states bordering Israel. What does Ankie Spitzer think about that pitiless [Evan: ooooooh] injustice? Does she think it wrong that she enjoys her racist and sectarian privileges at the expense of Arabs? We don’t know because no one thinks to ask her. Questions like this lie outside the Orientalist frame of discourse. Israelis are victims and innocent; Arabs are aggressors and guilty.

The quoted text above is also indicative of Sharp's own fancified history of Israel and Palestine. He takes liberties with the record, reimagining situations and contorting history to suit his chosen narrative of Israeli evil-doing. In the above article, for instance, he takes issue with some of the terminology used by the Jewish settlers in question:

...Those “roving bandits”, for example. They wouldn’t by any chance be dispossessed Palestinian Arabs violently expelled from their homeland by Jewish racists? And that enigmatic “group of derelict buildings”. Not by any chance one of the innumerable Arab villages and homes ethnically cleansed in 1948?

Of course, this is all guesswork. It is doubtful that Sharp knows exactly who the bandits or what the buildings were, but he nonetheless makes the brazen assumption that the former were "violently [so that we don't forget] expelled" Palestinians and that the latter were part of an ethnically cleansed village (and no, they were not "innumerable").
Also in fantasy mode, he makes the following "observation" in a poisonous screed against the Israeli Holocaust survivor-novelist Aharon Appelfeld:

And of course it is almost never remembered that one-third of the Zionist army in 1948 comprised Holocaust survivors. The Holocaust survivor as a racist thug, a murderer or a rapist, is not a figure you will ever encounter in Western constructions of the Jewish identity or historical experience."

It's a figure one doesn't encounter because it's a figment of Sharp's overheated imagination. In fact, it is common knowledge that Holocaust survivors made up a significant portion of Israel's army in 1948: many were literally fresh off the boat and found themselves fighting for their lives against Arab armies bent on genocide. Sharp's blanket characterisation of them as evil aggressors is tantamount to libel.

Once more, in his vile attack on Amos Oz, he even seems to rejects the notion of “the Land of Israel”:

For a flavour of Amos Oz’s rhetorical strategies I recommend Chapter 39 of his acclaimed memoir A Tale of Love and Darkness. It’s in the biography section of most corporate bookstores and you can stand there and read it for yourself in a couple of minutes or so (pp. 293-5).

It begins with a lyrical landscape description, which includes “the smell of the Land of Israel from time immemorial”. (An impressive odour, for a state which has only existed for 58 years.)

Is he serious?

Sharp doesn’t want his villain-victim dichotomy blurred, so he ignores the historical persecution of Jews (and how this would have influenced the desire for a Jewish homeland). See, if Jews are to be portrayed as evil-evil, their cause cannot in the slightest way appear just (hence his unwillingness to even concede that there had been a Land of Israel). It is this in this vacuum that Ellis Sharp spouts his invective.
He blasts Israelis for enjoying a "racist", "sectarian" privelege by living in the region's most ethnically and religiously diverse country. He often slanders prominent Zionist Jews, comparing them with Nazis, and attempts to "expose" Israeli authors who do not acknowledge their country's supposed heritage of ethnic cleansing as little better than Nazi propagandists and Holocaust-deniers. Hence Amos Oz and David Grossman, two prominent left-wing Israeli authors are compared to Goebbels and David Irving respectively.
He has also likened Zionism’s founder, Theodore Herzl, to Hitler - claiming that he "laid out his dream of expelling the Arabs just as explicitly as Hitler set out his desire to exterminate Jews". Sharp undoubtedly has in mind a particular entry in Herzl's diary; an entry that, once taken out of context, has been interpreted by Israel-haters like himself as being a rationale for ethnic cleasning. However, as David Meir-Levi wrote in response to another writer, Herzl intended nothing of the sort:

2. “Theodor Herzl suggested to spirit away the Arabs”: Odd that she equates Herzl’s one diary entry with an entire Zionist plot. Herzl did muse about this possibility - a peaceful relocation of Arabs into Transjordan onto land the Zionists would buy from them. But that is as far as his idea got - a momentary musing in his diary. He never brought this idea to the Zionist leadership, nor did it ever appear in any Zionist agenda. Far from being any sort of “Zionist plot” to ethnically cleanse the Holy Land of its Arab inhabitants, this reference in his diary demonstrates exactly the opposite. If the single most influential leader of the 19th and early 20th centuries’ Zionist movement did not bring this momentary musing to his followers, it is because either he himself rejected it or he knew his Zionist followers would. In short, there was never any Zionist plot to dislocate and/or relocate Arabs.

In short, Sharp's comparison of Herzl to Hitler only serves to highlight his shameful ignorance of the history of the Israeli-Arab conflict. In his Appelfeld piece, Sharp seems to think Herzl's desire to modernise Jerusalem (as jotted down in his diary) entailed "[getting] rid of the dirty Arabs":

The musty deposits of two thousand years of inhumanity, intolerance, and uncleanliness lie in the foul-smelling alleys… If we ever get Jerusalem and if I am still able to do anything actively at that time, I would begin by cleaning it up. I would clear out everything that is not something sacred, set up workers’ homes outside the city, empty the nests of filth and tear them down, burn the secular ruins and transfer the bazaars elsewhere.

A more detailed selection of Herzl's diary entries on Jerusalem can be found here. The image one receives is of a man upset at the squalor of a purportedly great city. While one can accuse Herzl of cultural chauvenism, it would take a leap of imagination to claim, from reading this passage in which he derides the dirt and destitution has has witnessed (he has some unflattering things to say about the Wailing Wall too), that he wants to rid Jerusalem of "the dirty Arabs". Furthermore, it appears Sharp has fallen into the trap of thinking that Palestine prior to the Zionists' arrival was exclusively Arab. What he probably doesn't know is that Jews made up a majority of Jerusalem's population in the 1890s, and were the majority up until the 1948, when the Old City was cleansed of its Jewish population by the Jordanians. One wonders what Sharp thinks of this "pitiless injustice"?

Finally, in a bizarre review of Stephen Spielberg’s film Munich (a sickening piece of moral equivalence in which he reimagines the 1972 hostage-taking, Israeli's response the the production of the film taking place in a "parallel universe"), he delights in the opportunity to compare Israel with Nazi Germany, Jews to Aryans and Palestinian terrorists to Jewish activists - despite the fact that nothing remotely like Jews taking German athletes hostage ever happened (and that it didn't happen should give pause). Sharp may argue otherwise, but this is hate-mongering bordering on anti-Semitism.

Is Ellis Sharp unaware that Zionism – far from the religious, white-supremacist ideology he portrays in his comments – is a national liberation movement similar in many ways to the third-world national liberation movements he would no doubt support? Yet his blog entries rest on the assumption that the Jews are not a “people” in the way the Palestinians are, and hence cannot have nationalism. Or perhaps Sharp just needs a “colonialist state” to demonise, and has adapted the Jewish state to that role.

Unlike Sharp, I am leaving my comments box open. Feel free to share your thoughts.

UPDATE (3 August 2006): In a recent post, Sharp casually links Israeli measures in Gaza and Lebanon with Nazism, invoking the Arab propaganda myth that Zionism and Nazism were in support of one another:

Instead of a prisoner exchange, the infrastructure of Gaza was levelled – quite simply, a war crime – and some 140 Palestinians have now been slaughtered. The state best known for committing these kinds of atrocities against civilians in retaliation for attacks on its soldiers was, of course, the Third Reich. It’s no surprise, perhaps, that back in 1933 Hitler’s regime was sympathetic to Zionism: Anton La Guardia in his book Holy Land, Unholy War [2002] mentions that long forgotten piece of Nazi memorabilia “a special commemorative medallion with a swastika on one side and the Star of David on the other”. (p. 163)

This is a crude attempt to equate Israel with Nazi Germany. Here again, Sharp takes facts out of context to misrepresent history. He implies that two racist regimes were hand-in-glove from the start. But the truth is, the Nazis wanted the Jews out of Germany, and Zionists in Palestine were willing to welcome Jewish refugees (i.e. Zionism "collaborated" with the Nazis in the context of saving Jews from persecution).

As for the medal Sharp mentions, J Boas in his book German-Jewish Internal Politics under Hitler 1933-1938 puts it in its proper historical context:

Two trump cards held by Zionism facilitated its rapid rise. One was Palestine; the other was the "most-favoured-nation treatment" accorded it by a Nazi officialdom appreciative of its unsparing efforts on behalf of Jewish emigration 85 . Of the 138,000 Jews who had left Germany by the summer of 1938, 38,000 had opted for Palestine, the majority with the indirect assistance of the Haavara (Transfer Agreement), the special arrangement worked out in August 1933 between Nazi Germany and the agencies of World Zionism. (The agreement permitted Jews who wished to leave Germany for Palestine to transfer their money in German goods, thus circumventing the prevailing restrictions on the export of capital; they were to be reimbursed in British pounds upon arrival in Palestine 86 .) The idea of a national home for Jews in the Middle East was bound to appeal to a certain type of Nazi-"idealists", scrupulous constructionists of National Socialist glosses on Volk and Raum , who were wont to identify with the national aspirations of the Jewish people 87 . Well aware of this particular current in Nazi thought, the ZVfD in the spring of 1933 commissioned Kurt Tuchler, a member of the Juedische Volkspartei on the Berlin Executive, to fire the imagination of such broad-minded Nazis for the Jewish enterprise in Palestine. Tuchler found an interested party in Baron Leopold Itz von Mildenstein, the Judenreferent in the S.S.; and later that spring the two men, accompanied by their wives, embarked on their Palestinian jaunt. Upon his return the Baron, who also dabbled in journalism, persuaded the editors of Der Angriff, Goebbels's newspaper, to devote a series of illustrated articles to this curious fact-finding journey. Having learned a little Hebrew, von Mildenstein also brought back with him a collection of records from Palestine; to Tuchler's astonishment, strains of familiar Hebrew folk songs greeted him on entering the Baron's office in 1934. To commemorate the voyage of a Nazi to Palestine, Der Angriff even had a medal struck showing the Swastika on one side and the Star of David on the other 88
.

But Boas is careful to note the distinction between Nazism and Zionism:

Needless to say, German Zionism held no brief for National Socialism. If both agitated for a Jewish exodus from Germany, they did so for radically different reasons and purposes. It should hardly need repeating that Zionist principles differed from those of National Socialism as night differs from day. Zionism believed in the existence of different races, but not in the superiority of one race over another.Zionist nationalism, as elaborated by the ZVfD, harked back to an earlier period, the Mazzini-type conception of nationalism as a liberating force leading, ultimately, to the harmonious coexistence of all the world's peoples. And although Zionism, like National Socialism, repudiated individualism, rootlessness and decadence, unlike National Socialism it never lost sight of the individual human being independent of race. Nor did the sanctification of the soil as the mainspring of spiritual and national well-being, preclude Germany's Zionists from advocating the peaceful coexistence of Arab and Jew in a Palestinian bi-national state

On the other hand, the Palestinian Arabs (indeed much of the Arab world) have long been sympathetic to Nazism - the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, Haj Amin Al-Husseini even played an active role in the Holocaust. Is Sharp aware of this, I wonder?

UPDATED

"Not that I'm anti-Semitic or anything..."

2006-07-16T21:53:00.000+12:00

Sacked NZ Herald cartoonist Malcolm Evans is up to his old tricks again. Courtesy of the folk at the PHRC:

For the cartoons that earned Evans his dismissal in the first place, visit here. Hold your nose.

UPDATE (26 July 2006): Another Kiwi cartoonist, Tom Scott weighs in on the situation in Lebanon:

Separated at Birth?

2006-07-08T04:18:00.000+12:00

Left: Literary great and Nobel Laureate V.S. Naipaul
Right: Maori Party MP Pita Sharples

(At least Vidia had the good sense to spare us the mullet!)

To my dedicated readers...

2006-06-11T13:20:00.000+12:00

I've been having some technical problems with the blog. I've managed to sort it out... mostly - I still have to redo the links bar, reorganise the archive and get a new Bravenet counter. They should be up in another day or two.

I apologise for the inconvenience.

UPDATE (June 29 2006): Renovations are underway. Sorry 'bout the delay...

Tom Waits Rain Dogs

2006-05-24T13:37:00.000+12:00

In 1985, two years after wowing the world (okay, the critics) and hitting the top of most “Best Albums of 1983” lists with his booming, clanking compendium of avant-guard compositions Swordfishtrombones, Tom Waits released a meatier, mightier album in the form of Rain Dogs. Filler-free nineteen-song CDs are rare beasts, and Rain Dogs, despite being superb value for money (currently 15 bucks at The Warehouse) is one of Waits’ finest albums (surpassed only recently by 2002’s magnificent Alice).

Musically rich and challenging, Rain Dogs’ greater emphasis on song structure makes Swordfishtrombones’ songs sound like mere sketches in comparison. Whilst much of the album is experimental in nature – relying on exotic percussion, esoteric keyboards and brass instruments – and there are also a handful of songs which employ more conventional instrumentation and are therefore quite accessible to a larger audience. Accessible, in fact, that one wonders why they weren’t hits (well, one was for another artist, but more on that later…).

As an album, Rain Dogs defies categorisation. Waits draws from a melange of sounds: crazy calypso (Singapore) rhumba (Jockey Full Of Bourbon), piano-based jazz (Tango Till They’re Sore) blues-rock (Big Black Mariah), guitar pop (Hang Down Your Head), Depression-era folk (Gun Street Girl), bourbon-soaked country-and-western (Blind Love, which features some guitar and caterwauling from the as of this moment fresh from hospital Keith Richards), and New Orleans funeral music (Anywhere I Lay My Head). Yet Waits proves that musical innovation doesn’t necessarily have to come at the expense of great songwriting; Rain Dogs may be all over the place stylistically, but it is extraordinary consistent in quality.

Waits is one of popular music’s foremost lyricists, and Rain Dogs is testament to his craft. Most of the lyrics here are more surrealist montages and expressionistic character sketches than the relatively coherent narratives of Waits’ bar-room ballads of the 1970s. Spiced with quirky word-play and Noirish city-speak, the songs are as delightful for the words as for the adventurous arrangements, even though Tom’s singularly coarse vocals take a while getting used to.

Thanks to Rod Stewart’s reading of the song, Downtown Train is the album’s – and undoubtedly Waits’ – best known song. Yet whereas Stewart’s version is a slick, radio-ready power ballad, the original - despite its breezy tune and immaculate surf-rock guitar licks – is a desperate, heartsick entreaty to the insensitive female residents of Brooklyn. It also contains some of Waits’ very best lyrics:

You wave your hand and they scatter like crows
They have nothing that will ever capture your heart
They're just thorns without the rose
Be careful of them in the dark
Oh, if I was the one you chose to be your only one
Oh baby can't you hear me now, can't you hear me now
Will I see you tonight on a downtown train?
Every night it's just the same, you leave me lonely now

Rain Dogs was this reviewer’s introduction to Tom Waits. You should make it yours. The cover art is quite neat, too…

This review was published, with minor alterations, in Craccum, Issue 11, 2006.

Kate Bush The Dreaming

2006-05-24T13:29:00.000+12:00

It is a common misconception that the music scene of the 1980s was little more than a wasteland of synthesisers and mullets (Australian music videos of the period do little to dispel this notion). Yet amid the canned noise and hair crimes, there existed a coterie of unique artists that provided solace for the discerning music lover, a roll-call that included the Smiths, Paul Kelly, the Pogues, Billy Bragg, the Pixies and, of course, Kate Bush.

Bush may be remembered as the spindly 17-year old who debuted at the top of the UK singles chart sometime in the late 70s with the delicious Wuthering Heights, but not many in today’s public are familiar with her other accomplishments. At her best, Kate Bush creates experimental music that is actually a pleasure to listen to. Her only possible rival in this regard is Tom Waits, another 80s maverick – one I hope to cover shortly.

After three albums of precocious pop, Bush released The Dreaming in 1982, the album which marked the beginning of this experimental phase. Neither the public nor the critics knew what to make of the new album and it subsequently flopped. It was eclipsed three years later by the majestic Hounds of Love, arguably the greatest album ever committed to tape (in the humble opinion of this reviewer, at least). But the experimentation of The Dreaming set the benchmark for that later success.
The tone of the album is dark, stark and morbidly romantic, its sound characterised by skeletal guitar riffs and bass-lines, clanking percussion and the eerie coos and tinkles of Kate’s new toy, a Fairlight synthesiser/sampler. Even a bit of Irish folk manages to weave its way through the sonic tapestry. Among the musos lending a hand are big bro and multi-instrumentalist Paddy Bush, Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour, English folk legend Danny Thompson and Rolf Harris on didgeridoo (and, thankfully, nothing else).

Kate had before shown a flair for the theatrical, and The Dreaming takes it up a notch. Each of the ten tracks is a cross between pop song and performance sketch. Her roles include a Faust figure on the pounding opener In Your Lap, bumbling Cockney bank-robbers on the Brit-ska-flavoured There Goes a Tenner, a Vietcong guerrilla on the explosive Pull Out the Pin, an Aussie hick on the menacing title track and an excessively paranoid home-owner on Get Out of My House, to name but five. Kate’s haphazard vocal stylings, unorthodox key changes and general madwoman antics may be grating to some, but for those with a taste for the whimsical, she’s a gift from heaven.

Hounds of Love may a more coherent, more accessible and perhaps better album, but The Dreaming is a splendid piece of work in its own right and deserves to be rediscovered.

This review was published, with minor alterations, in Craccum, Issue 9, 2006.

The Pogues If I Should From Grace With G-d

2006-05-24T13:20:00.000+12:00

Another Pogues album. Two years after the classic Rum, Sodomy and the Lash, unlikely pinup Shane MacGowan and the boys (bassist Cait O’ Riordon left to shack up with Elvis Costello) released what was undoubtedly their masterwork. With producer Steve Lilywhite (who previously worked with stadium-ready rockers U2 and Simple Minds) adding a bit of spit and polish to their unique brand of Irish folk-punk, the Pogues expand on, rather than compromise, the principles established on their first two albums.

If I Should From Grace With G-d finds the Pogues work with a broader palette than before: we have a sea shanty with a Middle Eastern twist (Turkish Song of the Damned), a profanity-laced rave-up (Bottle of Smoke), a Flamenco pastiche (Fiesta) and Guitarist Philip Chevron’s epic ode to the Irish diaspora in America (Thousands are Sailing) sharing space with the band’s trademark Celtic stomps.

Along with Lilywhite’s lush production, an important ingredient to the album’s sound is Irish folk veteran Terry Woods, who contributes various instruments throughout, as well as his own flavoursome brogue vocals to two songs: the traditional The Recruiting Sergeant and his own mournful Streets of Sorrow, each of which constitutes the first part of a respective medley. The first is paired with the galloping Galway Races and the second with MacGowan’s angry Birmingham Six: a protest at the incarceration of the six men falsely accused of the Birmingham pub bombings, and one which incidentally landed the Pogues in a bit of poo with the powers that be. Directly after this bitter indictment, the tender ballad Lullaby of London floats in, borne on lyrical accordion lines and ringing mandolins – testament to the versatility of Shane’s writing we got merely a taste of on Rum, Sodomy and the Lash.

In the Pogues’ own fashion, tenderness and bitterness come together on the soaring mini-opera that is Fairytale of New York, a massive hit on its release as a single and probably the band’s most recognisable song. A duet between MacGowan and the late Kirsty McColl – singing as an Irish immigrant couple looking back over the years – the track takes the listener through a minefield of emotions in four and a half minutes. It is undoubtedly the highlight of the album, and the track responsible for its entry at third position on the UK albums chart in 1988.

If I Should Fall From Grace With G-d was one of several Pogues albums reissued with bonus tracks in 2004. The gem of the six on this disc is the MacGowan instrumental Shanne Bradley, a lovely tune that could probably be described as dancing music for fairies (of the female, winged variety). It is a welcome addition to an album that, along with Rum, Sodomy and the Lash, is one 1980s’ most unique and enjoyable music achievements.

This review was published, with minor alterations, in
Craccum, Issue 7, 2006.

Hehehe....

2006-05-24T13:17:00.000+12:00

Sorry for the lengthy hiatus, guys - but I've been working hard in the interim, as evidenced by these three reviews I'm posting. Enjoy!

They never miss an opportunity

2006-03-29T14:14:00.000+12:00

Those fun folk of the Palestinian Human Rights Commission are set to protest the upcoming Jerusalem Quartet concert in Auckland on 1 April : PHRC Deplores Jerusalem Quartet Support for Occupation:

On Saturday, April 1, for the second time in two years, the Palestine Human Rights Campaign (PHRC) will be protesting at the Auckland Town Hall against the visit of the Israeli Jerusalem Quartet, whose members support Israel’s violent military Occupation of Palestine.

What is their basis for alleging the Jerusalem Quartet support the Occupation? They won't speak about it!

PHRC had hoped that the Quartet would take a lead from the great Israeli musician, conductor Daniel Barenboim who, with other Jewish artists, authors, academics and professionals have condemned the inhuman and racist policies practised by Israel against the Palestinian people. We have twice asked the Quartet whether they would be prepared to emulate Barenboim’s courageous bridge building with the Palestinians. So far we have had no response.

This is conflating individuals with nations. One should not have to pass this kind of test in order to gain acceptance among sectors of the population. Should one boycott a Chinese cultural festival unless those involved speak out against China's occupation of Tibet? Are we to boycott a Russian pianist unless he personally voices his disapproval of Russia's policies on Chechnya? These people are, by and large, not officials of their countries' governments but individual artists who should be judged on their own terms; they should not be thought to be tainted in a way because they come from a state whose policies we may disagree with.

Then, again, the PHRC are likely to deplore and protest anything do do with Israel - so the boycott is merely an act of opportunism on their part.

The reference to Barenboim and other Jews is what director Spike Lee would call "covering one's ass" - an attempt to circumvent the accusation of anti-Semitism by invoking "other Jewish artists, authors, academics and professionals" who hate Israel. Any Jew supportive of Zionism - i.e. the majority of the world's Jews - clearly isn't worth the time of day.

I wonder whether we can now boycott visiting artists from the Palestinian territories unless they denounce the "inhuman and racist" policy of suicide bombing practised by Hamas - the ruling party - against the Israeli people?

REPORT - The Middle East: Israel and Palestine today: A Seminar by Stephen Hoadley and Zaeem Baksh – Wednesday, 8 March 2006

2006-03-20T22:08:00.001+12:00

[NOTE: This article was published in Craccum, Issue 4, 2006. I was obliged to give equal weight to both sides of the argument and hence wasn't completely free to argue Israel's case, or critique the Palestinians', more passionately. See ADDENDUM for more comments]

Events occurring in the Middle East have long captured interest, stimulated debate and roused emotions of people the world over. As Klaus Bosselmann of our fair university’s Faculty of Law stated in his introduction to this seminar, there has been misunderstanding about elections, motives and retaliations on both sides of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It was therefore not surprising when two esteemed scholars of the calibre of Stephen Hoadley, Associate Professor from the Political Studies department of the University of Auckland and Zaeem Baksh, a Berkeley-educated sociologist now resident in the Waikato are prepared to debate the explosive situation (excuse the pun) in front of a packed lecture hall of students and interested members of the public. The purpose of the evening’s discussion, Bosselmann declared, was to identify the obstacles from the Israeli and Palestinian perspectives and to examine America’s stance on the matter.

Hoadley gave a brisk, dispassionate but informative history of the contested region from an Israeli/Jewish perspective. The Jews consider the region their ancestral homeland, as recorded in the Old Testament (Hoadley identifies this as the Jews’ title deed, but it is certainly not the only one). After being exiled by the Romans and living 2000 years in diaspora, they retained a bond with the land their enemies renamed Palestine. Jews also continued to live there throughout the years. The Zionist movement was born in the 19th century, out of the belief that Jews needed a haven from the persecution they had been facing. A state in their biblical homeland seemed the logical solution.

Following the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire after World War I, Britain governed Palestine as a mandate, promising to respect the national ambitions of both Jews and Arabs in the region. Yet the British, as Hoadley opined, were ambivalent to the Jews and restricted Jewish immigration to Palestine at a time many could be saved (i.e. during the Nazi Holocaust). After the Second World War, Britain handed control of what was left of the Palestine mandate – Hoadley presented a map indicating it had included what is now the kingdom of Jordan – to the United Nations, who partitioned it into two states: one Arab, one Jewish. The Jews accepted the plan, whereas the Arabs rejected it; the idea broke down, and fighting between the two populations broke out. In May, 1948, the Jews declared the independence of the State of Israel, and were immediately attacked by surrounding Arab states. The outcome was a hollow victory for Israel, as there was little prospect of peace with its neighbours.

1948 was only one in a series of armed conflicts between Israel and the Arab states. After the Six Day War of 1967 Israel came into possession of the West Bank (from Jordan) and the Sinai and Gaza Strip (from Egypt), which in time came to be known as the Occupied Territories. UN Resolution 242 was passed, calling for an Israeli withdrawal from land captured, but Hoadley argued there have been differing interpretations as to how much land should be returned. A withdrawal from the Sinai region won Israel peace with Egypt, but the relationship between Israel and much of the Arab world has remained hostile. Once again Israel has given land for peace, having ceded Gaza to the Palestinian Authority in 2005.
As for the Palestinian Arabs who fled or were expelled from what became Israel, Hoadley drew our attention to “a fact that is not often appreciated”: that a near equal number of Jews fled or were expelled from the surrounding Arab states at around the same time, thus amounting to an exchange of populations.

Hoadley also spoke about the origins of and reasons for US support for Israel. That Jews should return to their biblical homeland was a notion entertained by numerous American Christians. Some in the US continue to support Israel as they believe the two countries share a similar history and values. Contrary to what many think, says Hoadley, Israel is not dependent upon US aid for its survival (the US has also given aid to the Palestinians on humanitarian grounds), and the relationship has not always been as cordial as many would believe.

Israelis are weary of dealing with a Palestinian Authority whose maps don’t show an Israeli state, and with the continuous suicide bombings and rocket attacks, mistrust in the negotiation of peace has increased.

It has been tried before: a renewal of talks in 2000 between Yasser Arafat and Ehud Barak broke down, resulting in the second Intifada which continues to this day. Israel has long regarded Palestinian organisations, especially Fatah and Hamas, as terrorist and now that the latter is in power, many Israelis are anxious about their future: how can they negotiate with people for whom the destruction of their country is the supreme political goal? American voices have been more optimistic, suggesting that Hamas may go the way of Ireland’s Sinn Fein and develop a political wing of responsible leaders. Only time will tell.

Hoadley ended his section by detailing an outline for a lasting peace based on negotiation. Once we get around the refusal of Israel’s enemies to recognise its right to exist, a condemnation of terrorism should follow. Palestinians must organise their militia groups into a single unit just as Israel did with theirs in its formative years. Israel must put a stop to the growth of settlements and IDF presence in Palestinian areas. Sounds promising; however nothing in the Middle East comes that easily, what with the contest over Jerusalem and the Palestinians’ demand for the right to return.

As to the ownership of Jerusalem, Hoadley didn’t suggest a solution, but as to the right of return, he saw no “well-established precedent” as people throughout the ages have been displaced as a result of war or border clashes and have started new lives elsewhere. A reasonable alternative, to his mind, is for Palestinian claimants to petition the Israel government for compensation of property lost, as part of a final peace settlement. Once problems have been redressed, we can look forward to two sovereign states for two peoples, side by side.

It was evident from the beginning that Zaeem Baksh, in contrast to Hoadley, subscribes to a Marxist view of history and, particularly, the media and its influence. After greeting the audience, inclusively, in Maori, Arabic and Hebrew, he declared his wish to “go beyond” history and statistics, and invited the audience to think critically about what we have absorbed from the news media, which broadcast, not the objective truth, but “facts” as the “multinationals” would have us believe. He produced a newspaper clipping of the recent Israeli air-strike on Gaza, and voiced his frustration that the words “other people” were used to describe the three people killed in addition to targeted militants. According to Baksh, it is in the ruling class’s interests that we are kept from knowing who these “other” people were.

In a passionate, dramatic style, replete with emotive language and pregnant pauses, Baksh presented the Palestinian narrative. He argued that Palestinians are descended from the Canaanites and it would therefore be tragic if they were to give up hope of returning to what used to be Palestine.

That Israel claims that it carries out its military operations, as well as the Occupation, in the name of its people is sad. This is not the fault of the Israelis, he attests, but the “elite ruling class”; by building the wall, the powers that be have not only trapped the Palestinians, but Israelis as well. He asserted that America – whose friends in the region also include Afghanistan, Iraq and Pakistan – supports Israel for economic, rather than humanitarian reasons and its support could eventuate in a nuclear war if it is not careful.

In describing Israel’s actions in the Palestinian territories, Baksh used the dramatic analogy of drunken home invaders harassing a defiant home-owner. He alleged that “Israel has successfully destroyed Palestine” and, like Hoadley, Baksh used maps to illustrate his history. His first set showed how much Palestinian land had supposedly been lost to Israel since 1946, with what ever is left reduced to “bantustans”. Another map displayed a Middle East including Israel but not Palestine (to be fair, the West Bank and Gaza were demarcated).

Baksh also made clear his dissatisfaction of the 2-state solution. The West Bank and Gaza, being two non-contiguous pieces of land, are infertile ground for a viable state to take root, with Palestinians having to go through “choke points” to get from Areas A to B. Furthermore, he pointed out that Israel has control of the region’s water and other natural resources, and it would be outrageous for this to continue.

Any debate on the Israeli-Arab conflict is known to ignite the passions of both sides, and naturally, the atmosphere went from hot to hotter during the Q and A section. Baksh fielded the lion’s share of the questions. One gentleman took umbrage to his representation of the conflict, particularly his views on suicide bombers. After Baksh voiced his ambivalence toward such acts, a member of the audience desired to know why he should not forsake his comfortable existence and don a bomb belt himself. “I’m a coward,” was his reply.
In answer to a query over the one-state solution, Baksh further asserted his opinion of it being the most “practical” outcome to the conflict. Quizzed on the point whether it is viable, given the intense animosity between the two peoples, he claimed, idyllically, that hatred can be unlearned. In response, one audience member voiced the opinion prevalent among Jews and Israelis: that to ask Israel to cease being a Jewish homeland would be an act of “chutzpah” (audacity) as it would mean giving up its raison d’etre.

Israel and Palestine: two peoples forced together by history in a land immersed in conflict, misunderstandings, anger and passion. Yet with dialogue, the kind of which took place at Wednesday’s seminar, we can gain understanding and compassion, and build peace. Thank you, Stephen Hoadley and Zaeem Baksh for your perspectives.

ADDENDUM: My article, as it appeared in Craccum was accompanied by the above-mentioned series of maps illustrating the Palestinian loss of land from 1946 to the present day. It is with a heavy heart that I reproduce it here:

To the uninformed mind, this image would seem to illustrate perfectly the injustice of Israel and Zionism. It appears, judging by these maps, that the Jews/Israelis have usurped the Palestinians' right to their land and have been encroaching onto more and more of it as the years have progressed. It's a powerful image, but is it representative of historical reality? Some points:

Firstly, "Palestine" was a region enclosed by artificial boundaries drawn up by Britain after World War I. Though the first map gives the impression of a unitary territory - "Palestine" - the area shown is simply what was left of the Palestine mandate once the Brits lopped off the big bit of land east of the Jordan river - what is now Jordan.
Secondly, the first map gives the impression that the "Palestinians" owned everything barring what was owned by Jews. This was not the case, as CAMERA points out in response to Hanan Ashwari:

Regarding the ownership of land pre-1948, Ashrawi has alleged:

You want to go back to 1948, 1947 –– Jews owned 7 percent of the land, Palestinians owned 93 percent of all of Palestine. ("The Connection," WBUR, Jan. 18, 2000)

Ashrawi routinely propagates the common but false claim that land not owned by Jews in Palestine in 1948 belonged to Palestinian Arabs. In fact, historically, under Ottoman and British rule, most of the land was government owned. According to statistics from the Survey of Palestine, which was published in 1946 by British Mandate authorities, and later republished by the PLO-affiliated Institute for Palestine Studies, Jews owned 8.6 percent of the land and Arabs owned 28.6 percent. But the Arab total included Bedouin grazing land (8.4 percent) and waste land (13.4 percent), neither of which was legally ownable according to the prevailing Turkish and British land laws. Not counting Bedouin grazing land and waste land, Arab owned land totaled only 6.8 percent. But, even if one counts land in these categories as Arab owned, the majority of land in Palestine in 1948 was state land, which did not belong to Palestinian private owners. Because there was never a sovereign Palestinian Arab state, this state land cannot be said to have ever have been “Palestinian owned.”

There was never a sovereign state owned and run by Palestinians (who did not, in 1946, consider themselves a distinct nationality but rather part the greater Arab nation, or more precisely, south Syria), with defined national boundaries, at any time in history - despite what the first map would have one believe. Now, if land ownership had been represented accurately by the cartographer, the first map would depict both white and green isolated clusters against a different coloured backdrop representing "no man's land". Of course, if the Arabs had accepted the 1947 UN Partition Plan, there would have been a sovereign Palestinian Arab state existing alongside Israel to this day.

Finally, with regard to the third map, the land was not owned by Palestinians during the years 1949 and 1967. The West Bank was controlled by Egypt, while Gaza was in Egyptian hands. It was only after the Six Day War that Israel came into possession of the territories. Funnily enough, you wouldn't know from these maps that any wars had been fought (and lost) at all.

Sneaky, eh?

Grizzly Man (Werner Herzog, 2005)

2006-03-20T22:02:00.000+12:00

Werner Herzog’s documentary Grizzly Man was my favourite of the (admittedly few) films I saw at last year’s Telecom International Film Festival. Being a fan of the eccentric German auteur for some time, I was not disappointed with this, one of two documentaries he directed in 2005.

After thirteen summers spent living with and studying Alaskan grizzly bears, activist Timothy Treadwell and his girlfriend were attacked by an indiscriminate specimen and eaten. Comprised of footage Treadwell himself shot with his video camera (edited down from a whopping 100 hours’ worth) and interviews with friends, family, experts and others who crossed his path, what unfolds is the story of an idealist so absolutely consumed by his obsessions that he almost completely loses touch with reality (Also involved in the project is another hero of mine, guitarist Richard Thompson, whose Morricone-esque score is the perfect complement to footage of the rugged landscape of Alaska.)

That Herzog would be fascinated by Treadwell’s story is not surprising, as men of wild ambitions are often the protagonists of his fiction films. He may also have noticed an affinity with Treadwell as a filmmaker as he has braved similar terrain himself – notably the South American jungle. Via voice-over narration, the director, in his soothing German accent, provides his own take on the Treadwell saga and discovers a poignant drama beneath the surface. As he explains: “I found that beyond a wildlife film, in [Treadwell’s] material lay dormant a story of astonishing beauty and depth. I discovered a film of human ecstasies and darkest inner turmoil”.

Treadwell seems a congenial sort of nutter – dressed in black, with shades and a bandana over his blonde Prince Valiant locks and cooing to the animals as if they were oversized teddy bears, christening them Mickey, Freckles, Mr Chocolate and a host of other cuddly pet names. He loves these animals, but the animals remain largely indifferent to him. He is bit of an exhibitionist, and his video journal is more revealing than he could have known: a window onto his obsession. He indulges himself quite often - spouting unintentionally hilarious non sequiturs, staging mock-Rambo jungle scenes, waxing sentimental over bear droppings, praying for rain (“I want rain. I want, if there's a God, to kick some ass down here. Let's have some water! Jesus boy! Let's have some water! Christ man or Allah or Hindu floaty thing! Let's have some fucking water for these animals!”) and railing against the media and government in potty-mouthed monologues (you can’t script this stuff). At one point he consoles a bear who lost a fight over a female and uses the situation as an opportunity to discourse on his own difficulties with the ladies.

There is a lot of self-mythologising going on here as he lives out a fantasy lifestyle, oblivious to the danger that would eventually claim him. Herzog comes to the conclusion that Treadwell’s mistake was that he did not realise that the wild was not his playground: nature is chaotic and he was delighting in a harmony that was not there to begin with.
Grizzly Man is a real-life tragedy of a man blinded by his passions. As mentioned, Treadwell has much in common with Herzog’s fictional protagonists: the power-mad conquistador of Aguirre, the Wrath of G-d or the rubber baron Fitzcarraldo, who gets a tribe of Indians to pull a riverboat over a mountain (both films come highly recommended). He is in good company, as is Grizzly Man with the rest of Herzog’s oeuvre – it is an enthralling documentary and a valuable insight into self-destructive human nature.

RIP Timothy Treadwell.

This review was published in a slightly different version in Craccum, Issue 4, 2006.

The Pogues Rum, Sodomy and the Lash

2006-03-07T15:52:00.000+13:00

I recall someone saying that the Pogues are a remarkable band in that they sound great on paper and even better in performance. The Pogues are one of rock ‘n’ roll’s unlikelier success stories, having drawn on two musical traditions – punk rock and Irish folk - to create an ingenious and highly enjoyable fusion. 1985’s Rum, Sodomy and the Lash a landmark album on this respect. Their second long-player, it was the first to get them noticed in America.

Tracks like The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn, Sally MacLennane, Wild Cats of Kilkenny and Billy’s Bones exemplify the Pogues sound – the aggression of punk rock met with arrangements and instrumentation normally associated with pub folk combos: whistle, accordion, mandolin, uileann pipe, the odd fiddle or horn. The sound is raw, rollicking and ragtag in the best possible way. In the great Irish tradition, the songs of Rum, Sodomy and the Lash are largely concerned with death and drinking – subjects close to the heart of lead singer/songwriter/liquor enthusiast Shane MacGowan.

Though he looks and sounds like he was recently beaten over the head, MacGowan’s songwriting more than makes up for his idiosyncrasies in other departments. Even his everyman-down-the-pub voice lends itself to the hustle and bustle flavour of the album – much in the same way that Tom Waits’ voice contributes to the feel of his own music. And like Waits, his seemingly limited voice is remarkably versatile – he can do an ill-fated rent-boy (The Old Main Drag), a lovelorn returned serviceman taken to booze (A Pair of Brown Eyes) or a soldier and his mistress (Gentleman Soldier) with a perfect balance of humour and pathos.

It’s the mark of a great songwriter that his songs can blend so seamlessly with traditional material and songs by veteran folksingers. Rubbing shoulders with the MacGowan originals are covers of Ewan MacColl’s Dirty Old Town and Eric Bogle’s heart-wrenching Gallipoli ballad The Band Played Waltzing Matilda. The gem among the traditional tunes is A Man You Don’t Meet Everyday, sung by bassist Cait O’ Riordan, whose breathy delivery is a refreshing change from MacGowan’s snarls and warbles.

The 2004 reissue of Rum, Sodomy and the Lash is a vast improvement on the old CD, and among its six bonus tracks are all four songs of the classic 1986 Poguetry in Motion EP – including the sublime, sweeping Rainy Night in Soho.

Among other things, Rum, Sodomy and the Lash is the ultimate one-man-party album: the temptation to jump up and do a jig during some of these songs is often unbearably strong – just be sure you’re the only one a home when it happens.

This review was published, with minor alterations, in
Craccum, Issue 2, 2006.

Richard and Linda Thompson I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight

2006-02-28T06:09:00.000+13:00

Even among followers of independent music and listeners of “alternative” radio, Richard Thompson is but a footnote in musical history – perhaps remembered as the guy who played electric guitar on Nick Drake’s first two albums. Yet apart from his session-work, he has had an illustrious career as a recording artist in his own right. As a teenager, he was a founding member of English folk-rock pioneers Fairport Convention. After six albums recorded together with his ex-wife Linda, he resumed a solo career and is delivering the goods to this day. While many of his contemporaries have ceased to be relevant (*cough*Eric Clapton*cough*), Thompson continues to release quality albums, the most recent example being last year’s acoustic gem Front Parlour Ballads.

That “Thompson is god” graffiti wasn’t scrawled across the walls of 1960s London isn’t much of a mystery. Rather than wow audiences with pyrotechnics (though he is capable of a ripping solo), his craft is more intricate and less ostentatious. Apart from being an extraordinary guitarist on both acoustic and electric, he is also an extraordinarily gifted songwriter, noted for his grim, and often grimly humorous, story songs and character sketches and bittersweet, eloquent odes to love lost. There is a thorough Englishness in his songs in terms of phrasing and imagery and he also has a talent for writing ballads that can pass for age-old standards – even if the subject is a car or motorbike. His skills as a guitarist and songwriter are in full evidence here on I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight, his first album with Linda.

The general tone of the album is folk, but with a greater emphasis on electric guitar than many other British folk albums. The idea of a Fender Stratocaster duelling with a Krummhorn or an Anglo Concertina may sound odd, but it works a treat. The lyrics cover beggar girls, witches, knights and phone-calls without a hint of incongruity. Although all the songs are Richard’s, the star of the show is undoubtedly Linda, who handles both beautiful ballads (Withered and Died, Has He Got A Friend For Me) and joyful, more upbeat numbers (the title track, The Little Beggar Girl) effortlessly.
The rougher-voiced Richard sings lead on four of the ten tracks, including the rousing opener When I Get to the Border, the haunting, gospel-flavoured The Calvary Cross and The End of the Rainbow which is as sombre and discomforting a lullaby as you’re going to find (the lyric begins, rather unusually, with “I feel for you, you little horror” and continues on to “There’s nothing at the end of the rainbow”). The set ends with The Great Valerio: stark and chilling, this mini-tour de force uses the metaphor of a tightrope walker to evoke the precarious nature of human relationships.

It may not sell 15 million copies, but for pure, passionate songwriting, you really can’t do much better than I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight. You need this album.

This review was published in Craccum, Issue 1, 2006

Big Day Out 2006 Review

2006-02-28T06:02:00.000+13:00

At the risk of sounding uncool, this was my first Big Day Out. There – I’ve said it.

As the White Stripes were playing, I decided to fork out the hundred-and-something bucks for a ticket. They’ve become favourites of mine and I managed to miss their previous fifty New Zealand shows, so they were my main incentive for going – the other bands being a bonus. I ended up enjoying myself, for the most part, with a few of the acts happily exceeding their bonus status.

The fateful day arrived and I caught a bus to Ericsson Stadium from outside Real Groovy. The service was surprisingly good. Once there, I and a few thousand others waited in line, and after a while started inching towards the gates. The atmosphere was quite laid-back at first, so beating a path to Gramsci wasn’t too difficult. But Gramsci was boring, so it wasn’t too difficult getting away either. Having a few hours to spare before the next act on my agenda, I decided to buy some food and a White Stripes T-shirt, visit the loo, and check out the scene near the rides.

As the Big Day Out is about more than music, I found a little bit else to do. I spent a while at the Fruju waterslide, where I watched attention-mongers hurtle down and spray those close enough, witnessed a cheeky chappie remove his trunks and catch his balls between his legs, and enjoyed the occasional commentary from the bloke behind me (“ooooh, here comes a big boy”). I also enjoyed the “sprinkly-showery-tunnel-thingee” – it was perfect after a bit of sunburn. And ladies in bikini tops are a tasty accompaniment to any event.

Around midday, a crowd of us waited forever for the rapper on the stage next door to end his spiel before the Greenhornes appeared. This was the Cincinnati trio’s first visit to New Zealand, and their brief set was one of the day’s unexpected treats, even if bassist Jack Lawrence did look like a cross between Garth from Wayne’s World and Lewis Skolnick. Despite their lax appearance, the Greenhornes gave an energetic performance, capped by the superb In the Shelter of Your Arms – a song recently covered by their mates the White Stripes.

Because of a time-table stuff-up, I missed much of Sleater Kinney. I didn’t want to miss Breaks Co-op, however, seeing as The Sound Inside was one of my favourite albums of 2005, and their performance promised to be a great detox after standing through a set of syrupy pop a la the Magic Numbers. Helping out Zane (fresh off the plane from London), Andy and Hamish, were bassist Rio Hemopo, a drummer Tom Atkinson and Goodshirt’s Rodney Fisher on guitar, mandolin and percussion. The guys tackled with sound problems during the show, but managed to make the most of their set, which included a selection of tracks from the new album and a sprinkling from their first, Roofers.

After more food, a walk through the “sprinkly-showery-tunnel-thingee”, a lovely Danish ice cream and another trip to the loo (I felt silly having to contend with girls for the guys’ cubicles, but never mind), I saw a bit of Kings of Leon, though I made for the stands after a lacklustre performance of their best song Milk. Having spent the whole day up to now standing in the sun, I sat back and caught a quick nap, before being pleasantly awaked by Shihad. I raced down and managed to catch a killer My Mind Sedate before they packed up.

Now came the meatiest part of the day – Scots rockers Franz Ferdinand, punk elder statesmen Iggy and the Stooges and Detroit’s finest, the White Stripes, in succession.
Franz Ferdinand didn’t disappoint with crowd-pleasing boogies like The Dark of the Matinee, 40’ and Take Me Out. They were helluva good fun to watch: frontman Alex Kapranos did a silly dance in which he introduced his bandmates, and getting three guys to attack the drum-kit at once was a novel method of reproducing the layered beats of Outsiders. And they linked arms did a bow out at the end. Like classic rock stars.

I’m not at all familiar with the Stooges, so I was disappointed Iggy didn’t perform any of his better known solo material, but what a performance it was! Pop was clearly high on something when he arrived on stage, and he didn’t let up his bare-chested acrobatics for a minute, showing he’s still very much a “Wild One” in his old age. He even let members of the audiences join in his monkeying on stage, saluting them afterwards as “the Kiwi dancers”. It was showmanship at its finest. Needless to say I ended up giving the Mars Volta a miss, curses be on those who devised the day’s programme!

The White Stripes’ was the most elaborately decorated set of the day – with black, red and white being an obvious theme. Unfortunately, their performance was a bit hit and miss. The Stripes have too many good songs to squeeze into an hour-long slot, so they had to leave a lot out of their set, and much of what they did cover, they seemed to rush through. Ball and Biscuit, the lumbering centrepiece of the Elephant album was squealed through by Jack, who seemed to be undergoing some strain in vocal department (rumours went flying before the show that the Stripes wouldn’t be coming at all). I was tad upset with their recent album, Get Behind Me Satan, so those tracks – Little Ghost, My Door Bell (that baby grand was awfully underused), the Nurse – didn’t do much for me. Meg took to the timpani for Passive Manipulation - the only bit of lead singing from her that evening (I was looking forward to Cold, Cold Night but it never came). The audience was also treated to intervals of feedback which kind of linked the songs in a medley-like fashion, though I could’ve done with a little less sloppiness.
But when Jack and Meg were good, they were very good. They kicked off with the crunching Dead Leaves in the Dirty Ground, and couldn’t have opened better. Hotel Yorba and Fell in Love with a Girl will always get me bopping like an idiot, and covers of Dolly Parton (“Jolene, Joleeeeeeeeeene”) and Son House were tasteful additions to the set. After a fair period of fuzz-buzz, the Stripes returned to the stage for a four-song encore, including the fantastic singles The Hardest Button to Button and Seven Nation Army. At his best, Jack White is a Robert Plant and Jimmy Page in one, and tracks like these are testament.

I walked away satisfied, with numb ears and sore feet.

This review was published in Craccum, Issue 1, 2006

They took their time...

2006-02-09T10:44:00.000+13:00

More Ozu is on the way from that best DVD distribution company in the free world, Criterion! The title is the 1949 masterpiece Late Spring, and it's coming in May, packaged with an an audio commentary, essays (one by Ozu scholar Donald Richie), and Wim Wender's film Tokyo-Ga on a second disc. I'm a happy chappie indeed.

The cover art aint too shabby. In fact, I'm inclined to think it one of Criterion's best:

UPDATE (16 February 2006): The kooks at Criterion have removed Late Spring from their "Coming Soon" page. I guess this means it'll be delayed another month. Unless they're adding some more extras and are therefore updating the specs (we all live in hope). I'm on tenterhooks at the moment...

UPDATE (17 February 2006): It's back on, and it's being released in May afterall. I can rest easy at last.

Of Cartoons and Firestorms

2006-02-06T20:50:00.000+13:00

Last year, a series of cartoons depicting Mohammed, the central prophet of Islam, were published in a newspaper in Denmark. Some Danish Muslims took umbrage to the representations and hopped over to the Middle East with the offending drawings, including some (considerably more offensive) pieces of their own concoction. A world-wide Muslim boycott of Danish products was decided on, but what has transpired has gone beyond a mere rejection of imported herring and pastries. Violent protests have erupted in Middle East and Europe. Newspaper editors who decided to print the cartoons have received death threats, while many more are being dissuaded from printing them lest they anger their Muslim readership. Danish flags and embassies alike are being torched and vandalised.

One recalls the Salman Rushdie incident of the late 1980s. Rushdie’s apparent lampooning of Mohammed and Islam in his novel The Satanic Verses was enough to ignite a firestorm of indignation across the Muslim world, and the Ayatollah Khomeini called for his death. The conflagration spread to the West. Canada banned the book for a period, out of fear of offending local Muslims. Some American publishing companies momentarily dropped The Satanic Verse from their catalogues and bookstores in California were firebombed. People – protestors, prominent Muslims against the fatwa, translators – were killed, all because of a single book. As for the cartoons issue, we have not yet witnessed such disorder in the wider world, though a protest outside the Danish embassy in London gave air to some worrying sentiments:

Some of the cartoons were bound to incite people, while others are of a distinctly milder tone. Many in the media have puzzled at the idea that “any” depiction of Mohammed would be considered blasphemous when they have been done for centuries. As well as having reproduced the offending cartoons (those printed in the Danish paper as well as the bogus images) on his site, Zombie has also documented the history of images of the Prophet, and many have been made.

Still, the issues of blasphemy and freedom of speech hang over this affair.

Artists may well overstep the boundaries of cultural etiquette. Many whose works have caused offence have received censure (whether justified or not is a matter of personal opinion) but such people should not have to fear for their lives if they fall out of step. One of my favourite commentators, Mark Steyn points out that artists have been taking shots at Christianity for years and have often been championed for snubbing their noses at what are seen as stuffy conventions. In “'Sensitivity' can have brutal consequences”, he juxtaposes the differing responses of Western liberals to two cases of blasphemy:

“The cartoons aren't particularly good and they were intended to be provocative. But they had a serious point. Before coming to that, we should note that in the Western world "artists" "provoke" with the same numbing regularity as young Muslim men light up other countries' flags. When Tony-winning author Terence McNally writes a Broadway play in which Jesus has gay sex with Judas, the New York Times and Co. rush to garland him with praise for how "brave" and "challenging" he is. The rule for "brave" "transgressive" "artists" is a simple one: If you're going to be provocative, it's best to do it with people who can't be provoked.
Thus, NBC is celebrating Easter this year with a special edition of the gay sitcom "Will & Grace," in which a Christian conservative cooking-show host, played by the popular singing slattern Britney Spears, offers seasonal recipes -- "Cruci-fixin's." On the other hand, the same network, in its coverage of the global riots over the Danish cartoons, has declined to show any of the offending artwork out of "respect" for the Muslim faith. Which means out of respect for their ability to locate the executive vice president's home in the suburbs and firebomb his garage.

He also illustrates how the British public and politicians in particular have bent over backwards to not offend their Muslim compatriots – even going so far as to compromise their national, or indeed democratic, values. They seem cowed under pressure from radical sectors of the Muslim community who threaten drastic measures unless society accommodates their ideological demands. Steyn continues:

"Jyllands-Posten wasn't being offensive for the sake of it. They had a serious point -- or, at any rate, a more serious one than Britney Spears or Terence McNally. The cartoons accompanied a piece about the dangers of "self-censorship" -- i.e., a climate in which there's no explicit law forbidding you from addressing the more, er, lively aspects of Islam but nonetheless everyone feels it's better not to.
That's the question the Danish newspaper was testing: the weakness of free societies in the face of intimidation by militant Islam.”

Once upon a time, Europe was not the tolerant, multicultural place it is today. In the Middle Ages, blasphemy was a crime punishable by death. The difference is, that while Christianity has undergone a reformation and even the once-mighty Catholic Church has conceded that burning at the stake is hardly the right way to deal with heretics in this day and age, there are many Muslims who believe no punishment short of execution will suffice for those who blaspheme Islam. We Kiwis remember the “Virgin in a Condom” exhibit, and while it sparked off sufficient controversy to keep Talkback radio hosts busy for an age, none of us recall the artist being assassinated in broad daylight by a Christian fundamentalist. Similarly, in 2003 Malcolm Evans published some lurid anti-Israel cartoons in the New Zealand Herald and lost his job, but the offence to Jews and Israelis wasn’t so great as to have the Mossad dispatch a hit-squad to finish him off.

Several have already paid the price for openly criticising Islam, the most famous recent example being the Dutch film-maker Theo van Gogh, whose short film about the treatment of women under Islam and inflammatory public statements eventually cost him his life. (Steyn makes mention of another director in Holland who has elected not to begin work on a “multicultural comedy” because he does not want to suffer a dagger through the chest). Though van Gogh was infamous as a churlish provocateur, nothing he did warranted the fate that he met at the hand of a crazed assassin, who over a year later remains unrepentant. As others incidences, such as the London Bombings of 7 July 2005, make clear, there are a growing number of radicalised Muslims in Europe, whose anger cannot simply be attributed to their outcast status within their adopted countries. What we are witnessing is ideologically-motivated hatred and violence, based on a fundamentalist reading of Islam and antithetical to Western values.

Other voices have weighed in on the meshugas. In addition to Steyn and Melanie Phillips, our own Mr Political Incorrectness Lindsay Perigo has left a message on his website concerning the cartoons issue. Not afraid of making himself some more enemies, Linz nevertheless has a few smart things to say. He also cites the editor of Wellington’s Dominion Post, who thus defends the newspaper's decision to publish the cartoons:

“Modern society rests on the contest of ideas, the ability to question perceived wisdom and to challenge authority. Without that contest, and without the right to free speech that makes it possible, societies stultify and become entrenched in their beliefs. That freedom to question and to challenge must include the right to be offensive, to affront people’s most heartfelt beliefs, even to disparage that which they hold sacred. Otherwise it is an empty freedom. … There have been earlier cultural confrontations between the West and a resurgent Islam, beginning with the death sentence pronounced in 1989 on author Salmon Rushdie for The Satanic Verses, and including the murder in 2004 of Dutch film-maker Theo van Gogh after he made a film dealing with violence against Islamic women. They are confrontations the West cannot afford to lose. The right to freedom of speech is a precious one that must be defended.”

At the risk of sounding cliché, freedom of speech is a foundation stone of Democracy, and with freedom comes responsibility. One should not offend for the sake of being needlessly provocative – and I know a few artists in particular who should take heed.

However, criticism of religions, ideologies, public figures and establishments, though offensive to some is indicative of free expression, which is in turn indicative of a functioning democracy, and should not be ruled out. Nor should “dissenting” voices be silenced. In Auckland yesterday, hundreds of Muslims gathered to voice their opposition to the Danish cartoons, and good for them: they are merely acting on their right to speak up and exercise their passions against something they find distasteful. Such things are just not possible in totalitarian regimes, including those in the Muslim world. In fact the state-controlled media in many Islamic countries do not themselves have spotless records, as this cartoon makes clear...

[From Filibuster Cartoons]

Beach Boys Pet Sounds

2006-02-01T17:43:00.000+13:00

What is there to say about Pet Sounds that hasn’t already been said? That it was the original orchestral pop album – the one which showed musicians and music-lovers alike what popular music could achieve? That it is Sir Paul McCartney’s favourite piece of vinyl? Or that it was the record which marked the Beach Boys’ transition from Californian surf-popsters to artists capable of a more sophisticated sound? There’s nothing much that rock snobs don’t already know about Pet Sounds, but for the uninitiated, here’s a taste of things to expect.

From the start the album was the brainchild of vocalist/bassist/songwriter Brian Wilson. While his bandmates were on the road, Wilson elected to stay at home and focus his energies on a new project. With lyricist Tony Asher and a huge cast of session musicians involved, all that was really required of the four remaining Beach Boys was to lay down the vocals, which Wilson arranged as scrupulously as the actual music. The band’s trademark multi-part vocals add to the texture of Pet Sounds as much as the instruments themselves, which include, aside from the standard guitars, bass and drums, cellos, baroque harpsichords, saxophones, accordions, sleigh-bells and glockenspiels.

Mad genius Wilson conceived of Pet Sounds as a single artistic statement, his aim to express emotion as intimately as possible through unique aural soundscapes, to create “sounds that would make the listener feel loved”. This is not the place to go for catchy ditties about cars and surfer girls. Instead, expect music that is evocative, luxuriant and almost spiritual; at times joyful and upbeat, at others dreamy and introspective. Expect lyrics about the youthful lust for independence and the bittersweetness of love. The radio songs – Wouldn’t It Be Nice, Sloop John B and G-d Only Knows – gain fresh appreciation from being listened to in the context of the album, and the lesser know tracks – the hymnal You Still Believe in Me, the gentle Don’t Talk and the full orchestral blast of I Know There’s An Answer – are sure to enchant the new listener.

As Pet Sounds was quite a departure from the standard Beach Boys formula, it was not embraced as eagerly by the public as by the critics on its release in 1966. However, its sales have since exceeded the million-unit mark, and it has remained an all-time favourite of rock snobs, James Hetfield and Cameron Crowe - to name a few. Indeed one could argue that the classic symphonic rock albums – The Flaming Lips’ Soft Bulletin, Queen’s A Night at the Opera, Meatloaf’s Bat Out of Hell and especially The Beatles’ Sgt Pepper – trace their origins to this lovely piece of work.

The Capitol Records CD reissue includes both the mono and studio mixes of Pet Sounds, albeit somewhat clumsily on a single disc. But that’s as good an excuse as any to listen to it twice in a row; as well as one of the great albums, it is also a great summer album – it sounds great in the car on a quiet drive to the beach or, indeed, on headphones during that bus trip to uni on a warm weekday morning. [5/5]

This review was published, with minor alterations, in the Summer School 2006 issue of Craccum.

Cartoonists on the Hamas victory

2006-01-30T20:36:00.000+13:00

Well, everyone's favourite band of Islamofascist thugs have won a majority in the Palestinian Authority elections. Only time will tell what happens next, but I'm sure whatever happens will be consistent with the party line.

Anyway, here are some great political cartoons on this odious victory:

From the ever reliable duo of Cox and Forkum, of course.

This one is by Martyn Turner of the Irish Times - a clever send-up of the kind of Internet censorship now practised in China (see below). Thanks Backspin.

History swept 'neath the rug

2006-01-27T19:22:00.000+13:00

Charles Johnson from Little Green Footballs demonstrates how China's new "firewalled" Google works. He searched for "tianenmen" on both the standard images.google.com, and China's images.google.cn. The differences between the findings are not exactly subtle.

Ah, the crazy world...

2006-01-26T06:39:00.000+13:00

It's been a great week for comedy.

British politician and arch-moonbat George Galloway makes an arse of himself on British television and earns himself a fatwa in the process. Whoop-sy.

Meanwhile, Michael Jackson is once again losing his grip on sanity. He walks the streets of Manama, Bahrain dressed as a woman. Poor kid.

Hooray for Jewish Mamas!

2006-01-15T09:06:00.000+13:00

A recent genetics study published in the American Journal of Human Genetics has yielded an interesting discovery, that 3.5 million Jews alive today are descended from 4 women:

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - Four Jewish mothers who lived 1,000 years ago in Europe are the ancestors of 40 percent of all Ashkenazi Jews alive today, an international team of researchers reported on Friday.

The genetic study of DNA paints a vivid picture of human evolution and survival, and correlates with the well-established written and oral histories of Jewish migrations, said Dr. Doron Behar of the Technion-Israel Institute of Technology, who worked on the study.

The study, published in the American Journal of Human Genetics, suggests that some 3.5 million Jews alive today all descended from four women.

For their study, Behar and geneticist Karl Skorecki, with collaborators in Finland, France, Estonia, Finland, Portugal, Russia and the United States sampled DNA from 11,452 people from 67 populations.

"All subjects reported the birthplace of their mothers, grandmothers, and, in most cases, great-grandmothers," they wrote in their report.

They looked at mitochondrial DNA, which is found in cells, outside the nucleus and away from the DNA that carries most genetic instructions. Mitochondrial DNA is passed down virtually unchanged from mother to daughter, but it does occasionally mutate, at a known rate.

Researchers can use this molecular clock to track genetic changes through time, and used it, for instance, to compute when the "ancestral Eve" of all living humans lived -- in Africa, about 180,000 years ago.

Now they have found four ancestral Jewish mothers.

"I think there was some kind of genetic pool that was in the Near East," Behar said in a telephone interview.

"Among this genetic pool there were four maternal lineages, four real women, that carried the exact specific mitochondrial DNA markers that we can find in mitochondrial DNA today."
...
They, or their direct descendants, moved into Europe.

"Then at a certain period, most probably in the 13th century, simply by demographic matters, they started to expand dramatically," Behar said.

"Maybe it was because of Jewish tradition, the structure of the family that might have been characterized by a high number of children."

But these four families gave rise to much of the population of European Jews -- which exploded from 30,000 people in the 13th century to "something like 9 million just prior to World War II," Behar said.

No doubt one of the four ladies was Great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-Grandmother Lazarus. Wow.

J.M. Coetzee Slow Man

2006-01-12T03:04:00.000+13:00

Spoilers follow.

Slow Man is J.M. Coetzee’s tenth novel and his first since being awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2003. It is the story of Paul Rayment, an aging French-born photographer resident in Adelaide, Australia (the city Coetzee now calls home), whose life is thrown into disharmony when he is knocked off his bicycle by a car. Such an occurrence would usually be reserved as the climactic moment in a novel – that is, once an equilibrium of sorts has been established (as was the case in Disgrace). In Slow Man, the accident opens the novel; immediately the reader is plunged with Paul into a nightmare-like situation that for him is all too real.
The damage done to his right leg is so severe that he undergoes amputation in hospital. His condition necessitates some home help so he hires Marijana Jokic, a comely Croatian nurse, to whom he quickly becomes attracted. He also takes an interest in her family, almost envying her for the children he himself never had. He becomes particularly attached to her teenage son Drago, and offers to take him under his wing by means of paying his admission to a private school. Marijana’s husband becomes suspicious of this gesture and Paul’s relationship with his nurse, as well as the situation in the Jokic household, starts to sour. Then Paul receives a knock on the door. Enter Elizabeth Costello.
Costello, an Australian writer and intellectual and the title character of Coetzee’s previous novel insists Paul “came to her” (and not vice versa), and makes herself at home in his flat. But not before reciting some of the opening passages of the novel the reader holds in his or her hands. Are Paul and the Jokics characters of Costello’s new novel-in-progress? She eggs on the morose and house-ridden Paul to act decisively in his interactions with the Jokics and in coming to terms with his own self - the accident, it seems, has brought to the fore anxieties that have long bubbled beneath the surface.

Slow Man is a typical Coetzee novel in that, in spite of its size (though at over 250 pages, it is his longest work to date) it is a multifaceted work. As an individual forced by circumstance to re-evaluate his life and worldview, Paul Rayment bears resemblance to previous Coetzee protagonists like David Lurie and Elizabeth Curren of Disgrace and Age of Iron respectively. Coetzee’s preoccupations with notions of national identity and displacement are also felt in the characters of Paul and the Jokics: European émigrés living in Australia – a country ostensibly devoid of history and culture – unsure of their place in an adopted homeland. There is also the odd surreal touch – the appearance of Costello, Paul having sex with a blind woman in a dreamlike situation orchestrated by the lady novelist herself – which bring to mind scenes in Waiting for the Barbarians and Elizabeth Costello.

Slow Man has taken a bit of a pounding in the press. Many reviewers were so impressed by the tough-as-nails realism of the pre-Costello section of the novel that they argued her entrance snapped the narrative out of joint. These early chapters evoke powerfully the distress of an individual forced into a situation of despondency, and they resent that Coetzee did not continue in this quasi-realist vein. Yet the sudden appearance of Elizabeth Costello adds another complication to Paul’s life and allows for deeper soul-searching on the part of the protagonist. She also opens up new possibilities for Coetzee to investigate the creative process of writing fiction, and explore the division between fiction and reality and the relationship between the author and his or her work. This semi-new direction may disorient many of the author’s admirers, but to this fan, it’s more than welcome.

As always Coetzee’s prose is brilliant - direct, yet with an enviable elegance; the tone dispassionate, yet not without warmth (in other words, very unlike his former compatriot Nadine Gordimer – yuck). Although Slow Man does not quite reach the heights of what I believe to be his three masterpieces – Waiting for the Barbarians, the Booker winners Life and Times of Michael K and Disgrace – it is a worthy new novel by a remarkable writer. [4/5]

2006

2006-01-01T22:03:00.000+13:00

Here's wishing everyone a happy and safe New Year.

Kazuo Ishiguro Never Let Me Go

2005-12-29T16:52:00.000+13:00

Never Let Me Go, published earlier this year, is Japanese-born English novelist Kazuo Ishiguro’s sixth novel, arriving two years after the Booker-shortlisted When We Were Orphans. Never Let Me Go itself was one of the six novels shortlisted for the (now Man) Booker Prize, which this year went to John Banville’s turgid mess The Sea (more about that in due course). But no matter - Ishiguro is, of course, the author of The Remains of the Day, arguably the greatest novel to take the Booker Prize and one of the most perfect pieces of literature anyone could hope to write. So how does his most recent novel stack up to that earlier success? Some spoilers ahead.

Never Let Me Go is narrated by Kathy, a “carer” who has decided, as her term nears its end “sometime” in late 1990s England, to put to paper the story of herself and friends Tommy and Ruth: former students at Hailsham, a seemingly exclusive boarding school in the English countryside. Yet Hailsham is no ordinary school, and its students are no ordinary children. As the students devote their creative energies to painting and poetry, they are gradually informed (“told and not told”) that they will someday be called up to donate their vital organs. Kathy and her schoolmates have in fact been engineered for this exact purpose. The chronicle is divided to cover the three major stages of Kathy’s life: childhood at Hailsham, time spent at the Cottages (a kind of half-way house in which the clones live before they become donors or carers of donors) and carer Kathy’s reunion with Ruth and Tom.

Much of the novel is excellent, especially the section focused on life at Hailsham: Kathy’s narrative here fluctuates from happy reminiscence to uneasy questioning. From the beginning the reader is sure of something unusual afoot in this seemingly pleasant and orderly environment as the heroine and her friends slowly become conscious of their “special” condition. As the novel progresses and the characters grow, they start truly experiencing and appreciating the joys of life – friendship, love and sex. Indeed, Kathy focuses mostly on the mundane aspects of childhood and young adulthood: quarrels between friends, schoolyard rumours, interactions with teachers (or “guardians” as they are known at Hailsham) and adolescent crushes. There is a poignancy at moments when we realise the “donors” are not all that different from us – moments which bring to mind the film Blade Runner, also about genetically-engineered humans, though Never Let Me Go does not engage as explicitly with issues of science or morality. This is largely because of Kathy’s narration.
The prose of the novel seems stripped bare of artifice, which is fitting given that Ishiguro’s tale is not narrated by an articulate author such as himself. As in The Remains of the Day, he succeeds in creating a narrator who, though intelligent, is spiritually detached from the world surrounding her and programmed to behave in a certain way. Kathy, like Stevens the butler, is not fully able to grasp the full importance of her situation, yet we as readers can – and this is what makes the book all the more disturbing. Kathy is also no science-whiz, so there is no discourse on the actual cloning process – nor does there necessarily have to be, because Never Let Me Go is less a work of science fiction than a highly subjective narrative of life in an unusual space and time.

Less forgivable, perhaps, is the author’s sketchiness on the world his characters inhabit. It is only at the end of the novel, when a character delivers a lengthy monologue on the state of Britain since the end of the Second World War, that the reader discovers anything about society’s practice of cloning and the breeding of donors in special institutions. Such information does put into perspective what had occurred previously in Kathy’s narrative, yet it feels rather tacked-on, as if it is as much for the reader’s benefit as for Kathy and Tommy who listen to it.
In addition, we get to know very little about the world outside Hailsham or Kathy’s circle. This is semi-justified given that Kathy would only describe what she knows, yet by the commencement of her memoir, she should surely have had at least some experiences with “normal” people, who, apart from the “guardians” at Hailsham and several very minor characters, are almost completely absent.
Several reviewers have commented on the characters’ passive acceptance of their fate and their failure to rebel or escape even given their desire to postpone their “completions”. Yet again, this is understandable given the way Kathy and friends have been brought up: they really know nothing else, and hence accept submissively their role in society. Other critics have complained that that there are no references to resistance to the cloning programme itself, something that would be inevitable in the post-World War II world, where memories of Nazi eugenics should still be fresh in many peoples’ minds. So, in the end, one gets the sense that Ishiguro may have bitten off more than he could chew in terms of his subject matter. Then again, Never Let Me Go’s focus is on individual memory, and the lives of peripheral members of a society rather than an exploration of the society at large.

Never Let Me Go is an interesting, enjoyable yet slightly flawed work. This being Ishiguro, one can expect a work of quality literature, and it is well worth reading. [4/5]

The Face Behind the Blog

2005-12-27T11:16:00.000+13:00

MoC DVD of the Year 2005

2005-12-26T18:26:00.000+13:00

End of year lists are popping up quite quickly now. As with each year, Masters of Cinema has compiled a list of the best DVDs of 2005 as voted by its readers (me included). And yes, at the top of the pile is Kenji Mizoguchi's Ugetsu, which was given a lavish treatment by the best DVD distribution company in the free world, Criterion.
To be absolutely fair, I have not viewed the other discs on the list, so I cannot vouch for their quality. It all looks pretty good, I guess - I must really get around to watching Au Hazard Balthazar...

Chanukah Same'ach!

2005-12-25T03:49:00.000+13:00

Eight days of candles, dreidls and doughnuts!
As a special treat, here is a Sephardic Chanukah song from The Jewish National & University library (thanks habib for linking this amazing website), sung in Ladino - the Judeo-Spanish dialect traditionally spoken by Sephardim: Dak il tas (Strike the tray)

Now Christmas Day and the first of the eight days of Chanukah do not regularly coincide, but as they have done so this year, I also wish those celebrating it a very Merry Christmas.

Disgusting

2005-12-20T06:05:00.000+13:00

What is it about Palestinian society that its members are disposed to celebrate other people's suffering? Ariel Sharon, say what you want to about him, was very recently admitted to hospital after a minor stroke and what do the folks next door do? Why, fire a few friendly volleys and pass out the sweets, of course.

This sort of thing is known to happen after "successful" suicide attacks within Israel, with many Palestinians taking to the streets in euphoria at the deaths of Israeli civilians and the "martyrdom" of the perpetrators. And it was also party time after the World Trade Centre came crashing to the ground on September 11, 2001.

I shall leave you with a very good piece by Robert Spencer on Palestinian schadenfreude - and its acceptance by Western apologists: Sharon’s Stroke. Key passage:

Even that glorification and celebration of death, moreover, is rooted in a culture of hatred: suicide bombers are heroes not because they kill themselves but because they kill infidels as well. 9/11 and Sharon’s illness are worth celebrating because they represent more of the same: the defeat and destruction of the enemy.

The culture of death and hatred is not limited to the Palestinians: in Egypt, Sheikh Atiyyah Saqr of Al-Azhar explained in 2004 that “cowardice and love for this worldly life are undisputable traits [of the Jews].” In Lebanon, Hizballah’s Hassan Nasrallah concurred: “We have discovered how to hit the Jews where they are the most vulnerable. The Jews love life, so that is what we shall take away from them. We are going to win, because they love life and we love death.” Afghan jihadist Maulana Inyadullah declared: “The Americans lead lavish lives and they are afraid of death. We are not afraid of death. The Americans love Pepsi Cola, we love death.”

In most places on the planet and at most times throughout history one who loves death has been considered at very least unbalanced. And rather than rejoicing in the misfortunes even of their enemies, Americans rebuilt Germany and Japan after World War II. Israelis did not hand our candies when Yasir Arafat died; nor do they cheer the deaths of innocent Palestinians. Personal graciousness between public opponents has for ages been a hallmark of civilization; indeed, even aides to Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas wished Sharon good health.

The latest reports indicate that Sharon has recovered and will be discharged shortly.

RIP Richard Pryor (1960-2005)

2005-12-11T14:13:00.000+13:00

The Saga Continues...

2005-12-09T06:05:00.000+13:00

I have put off from posting on the hostage crisis until the outcome is known, but I thought I'd write an entry anyway, as the saga has taken a particularly vile turn.

A jailed Al-Qaeda cleric has made an appeal to the "Swords of Righteousness Brigade" for their victims to be released. Sounds nice, but this "mercy" he calls for, as we shall see, only applies to a select few.

"I, your brother Abu Qatada ... beseech my brothers in the Swords of Truth in Iraq, who are imprisoning the four Christian peace activists, to release them in accordance with the fundamental principle of mercy of our faith," he said in an appeal aired on Arab television on Wednesday.

"Our prophet said mercy should be shown unless there is a reason in Sharia (Islamic law) that prevents it," he added in a videotape supplied to Al Jazeera and Al Arabiya channels by his lawyers.

Now, this echoes a similar statement from the Al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade, reproduced on none other than the ISM website:

From your brothers in arms, the sons of the same blood who have suffered from one enemy, to the fighters against the invaders in Iraq, at a time when we are engaged in one battle against a single unjust plan by Zionist imperialism; a plan aimed at dividing the region, the theft of its wealth and the subduing of its peoples in the name of deceitful excuses such as the spreading of democracy and freedom, we appeal to the hands that are fighting the Anglo-Saxon invasion of the lands, those who reject occupation. This occupation is the real terrorism in this world. As a result of the actions of this occupation, be it the killing of humans, or destruction of houses and trees, a group of free people in the world have moved to stand by the Iraqi and Palestinian peoples, as they continue to suffer from the evils of the occupation. Those volunteers include: Tom Fox, James Loney, Harmeet Sooden, and Norman Kember.

Those are the same friends of the martyr Rachel Corrie who was crushed under an Israeli bulldozer as she stood in the defense of our people and her friends against the Israeli Zionist occupation. We came to know them as they took a courageous stance against the new system of apartheid and the racist separation Wall. They suffered as we did, and were wounded by the bullets of the occupation, while others were exiled and imprisoned.

Hey, say the right words ("apartheid", "imperialism", etc) and anyone can be posted on the ISM website!

Of course, if any of the four hostages were, say, in cahoots with America or Israel, or if they were Jewish (no matter their allegiences) - buh-bye... In fact, a US Security consultant has just met a tragic end at the hands of the savages of the "Islamic Army". Would Al-Aqsa martyrs and Mr Abu Qatada have advocated "mercy" for this American hostage? They're probably passing the lollies around at this very moment.

On a similar note, a petition has been doing the rounds – bigwigs Arundhati Roy and Noam Chomsky head the signatories – calling on the kidnappers to release their hostages. Sounds noble enough. However:

They are not spies, nor do they work in the service of any government. They are people who have dedicated their lives to fighting against war and have clearly and publicly opposed the invasion and occupation of Iraq. They are people of faith, but they are not missionaries. They have deep respect for the Islamic faith and for the right of Iraqis to self-determination.

Would there have been as great a stir from the intellekshul elite had the hostages not been against the war? What’s most amusing is that the text of the petition amounts to “don’t hurt them, they’re on your side”:

We appeal to those holding these activists to release them unharmed so that they may continue their vital work as witnesses and peacemakers.

This attempt to play nice with bloodthirsty maniacs is vomit-inducing. Judging from some of the comments left by the signatories (I refuse to directly link the petition, sorry – try Harry's Place), they honestly seem to think of the captors as simply misguided resistors of the Occupation. This misconception is quite popular in these morally topsy-turvy times. In reality, the “insurgents” have little interest in peace, and it is doubtful whether an American withdrawal will suddenly transform them into happy campers. Their chief victims have been other Iraqis, after all.

Of course, I do hope Mr Sooden and co. are released unharmed. Perhaps they'll come out a little wiser, though I'm not holding my breath.

Hmmm...

2005-12-05T07:31:00.000+13:00

New Zealand hostage Harmeet Sooden with a rather disturbing sign - as printed in this morning's NZ Herald. Seems to have been inspired by the work of sacked Herald cartoonist Malcolm Evans. Still, in tune with his image as an activist for the ISM.

Although I do not agree with Sooden's politics, I nevertheless wish him and his fellow detainees a safe and speedy return home. No-one deserves to be in the situation they are in, regardless of their political affiliations. My sympathies also go out to their families.

PS More on the hostage crisis soon...

RIP Pat Morita AKA "Mr Miyagi" (1932 - 2005)

2005-12-02T06:57:00.000+13:00

Granted, I'm a little late with this, but it's never too late to mourn a legend.

He will be sorely missed.

Minor Announcement

2005-11-27T17:05:00.000+13:00

I apologise to my loyal readers (all three of you) for not having updated in a while. I can assure you black and tan eyes will be back up and running in December.

While you wait, here is a jar of mayonnaise:

Harold Pinter - Nobel Prize for Literature 2005

2005-10-14T21:05:00.000+13:00

Well, it wasn't Adonis, Pamuk, Oates or Oz. The 2005 Nobel for literature goes to professional America-hater and sometime playwright Harold Pinter.

Part of me is happy that another Yid has taken literature's most prestigious award, but I can think of a number of more deserving writers who continue to put out great work. Oh, well, at least he isn't as nutty as last year's doozy of a laureate, Elfriede Jelinek. I may actually take the opportunity to read a couple of his plays. His poems, which are "poems" in name only, I'll give a miss.

Yom Kippur

2005-10-12T15:24:00.000+13:00

It's that time of year again. To the whole Jew Crew, tzom kal, go well over the fast.

and the winnah is...

2005-10-11T17:36:00.000+13:00

Veteran Irish author John Banville (so Ish wasn't the only one after all) has won the 2005 Man Booker Prize for his novel , The Sea. I just picked up a copy and look forward to reading it after the exam period.

Al-Guardian has more: Irish stylist springs Booker surprise

RIP Ronnie Barker (1929 - 2005)

2005-10-05T07:02:00.000+13:00

"...and it's goodnight from him!"

Booker shortlist announced!

2005-09-09T17:54:00.000+12:00

As follows:

The Sea by John Banville

Arthur & George by Julian Barnes

A Long Long Way by Sebastian Barry

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

The Accidental by Ali Smith,

On Beauty by Zadie Smith

Ishiguro is the only one of the handful of veterans to make the longlist. Coetzee has already won the prize twice and has also been awarded the Nobel, so his ommission is not such a big deal (his new novel, Slow Man is receiving mixed reviews though Complete Review seems quite enthusiastic about it. I'll be picking it up shortly). Rushdie's too has been dividing critics, but hopefully the Nobel Academy will ignore the threats and just hand the prize over to him this year. Dan Jacobson looks destined to being a footnote in literary history, which is a shame.

As for the shortlisted titles, I am intrigued. The Banville looks quite interesting, as do the Ali Smith and the Barnes (which is the bookies' favourite to win). I'm definitely reading Ishiguro's novel. Zadie Smith, that photogenic darling of the literary set a few years back, has finally got a position on the shortlist, and has been in the news over some rather brazen comments about her native England.

Overall, a nice list.

Some fine reads, but don't stop here...

2005-09-03T23:28:00.000+12:00

Well, it's about time I got into the swing of things. Now that I'm on holiday, I can afford to make a few updates ;)

There are few things I like better than lists: making them and reading them, and Al-Guardian's frequent "Top 10 books about ..." are always worth a look see. Their latest "Top 10 books that teach us something about southern Africa" by Zimbabwean novelist Ian Holding, is little more than a "Southern African Lit for Dummies" prescription, which is OK I guess - some great authors have emerged from that part of the world, and they deserve a wide audience. The two most famous, the Nobel laureates Nadine Gordimer and J.M Coetzee have works on the list, with Gordimer's execrable The Conservationist at no. 4 and Coetzee's masterpiece Disgrace topping the lot (and a good thing too). Elsewhere we have Achmat Dangor and Damon Galgut (both shortlisted for the Booker Prize for very good novels about life in post-Apartheid South Africa), Dorris Lessing, Andre Brink and a slew of Zimbabwean writers of whom I have read only one - Tsisti Dangaremba, whose Nervous Conditions is quite good, even if at times it reads like an anti-colonial tract more than a novel. Then again, these books are supposed to "teach", so...

In all, not a bad list for people wanting a taste of literature from southern Africa. You can't go wrong with the South African titles, at least - except perhaps the Gordimer. Just remember that there's more where this came from.

Booker longlist announced!

2005-08-11T06:16:00.000+12:00

Here it is, the official longlist for the 2005 Man Booker Prize:

The Harmony Silk Factory by Tash Aw

The Sea by John Banville

Arthur & George by Julian Barnes

A Long Long Way by Sebastian Barry

Slow Man by JM Coetzee

In the Fold by Rachel Cusk

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

All For Love by Dan Jacobson

A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian by Marina Lewycka

Beyond Black by Hilary Mantel

Saturday by Ian McEwan

The People’s Act of Love by James Meek

Shalimar The Clown by Salman Rushdie

The Accidental by Ali Smith

On Beauty by Zadie Smith

This Thing Of Darkness by Harry Thompson

This Is The Country by William Wall

I'm intrigued. It's about half the size of previous years' longlists, and it's nice to see some of the big names there - actually, they almost dominate the list this time around. There are also three debut novels. Al-Guardian weighs in:

Professor John Sutherland, chairman of this year's judging panel, described 2005 as an "exceptional year" for fiction, saying that, in the judges' opinion, the longlist ranked as "one of the strongest since the prize was founded." He went on to say that "the judges have enjoyed their judging experience enormously - so far."

Now in its 37th year, the prize is acknowledged to have the power to transform the lives of the authors who win it; at the very least, instantly soaring sales figures are guaranteed. The prize was awarded last year to Alan Hollinghurst, who pipped David Mitchell and Colm Toíbín to the post with The Line of Beauty, his devastating satire of the Conservative government of the 1980s. Following his win, his previously critically acclaimed but only modestly successful novel spent the rest of the year on the bestseller lists.

The prize, the most high profile in the UK's literary calendar, is open to fiction writers from the Commonwealth or the Republic of Ireland. The shortlist will be unveiled on September 8, and the winner of the award, now four years into its sponsorship by the Canadian Man investment group, will be announced at a ceremony at the London's Guildhall on October 10.

Brief descriptions for each novel are available on the BBC website. I might just get around to reading one or two before the short-list is announced, depending on how far I get with my reading for uni. Sigh...

Thoughts on End of Summer (Yasujiro Ozu)

2005-08-10T23:08:00.000+12:00

I viewed End of Summer (1961), Ozu’s second-to-last film, yesterday. As well as being another masterpiece from an artist who was possibly the most consistently excellent film-maker of all time, this story of the disintegration of a family is also remarkably different from any other Ozu film I have seen. Despite being shot in sumptuous Technicolor, it is undoubtedly one of the bleakest films in the great director’s oeuvre.

Skimming through a plot synopsis, one would think we are in familiar Ozu territory. Two daughters are being pressed by their once-prosperous family to marry. As is often the case, they, the eldest and youngest of the family’s three daughters, have other plans. To complicate the situation at home, their dad is sneaking out to visit an old lover, with whom he has had an illegitimate daughter. A man of failing health, it is after a day out with his former flame that he collapses and dies.

Many of Ozu's films do end with a sense of irretrievable loss - but there is often also that bittersweet moment when the characters resign themselves to the fact that life has to go on. Yet as Ozu scholar and Japanese film buff Donald Richie says, there are almost no "survivors" when End of Summer finishes. The final scenes of the crematorium smokestacks, the black-clad figures moving along a pier and that very last shot of crows cawing on an empty beach can have a different effect - one not of wistfulness, but of devastation. The dramatic soundtrack (rare for an Ozu film) adds to this almost overbearing sensation.

Yet a difference in tone does not mean a difference in quality. End of Summer is an outstanding film, and well worth seeing. The tension, while maybe not as subtle as in the earlier masterworks, never approaches Hollywood-style melodrama, and Ozu’s gentle humour is also evident in places, particularly the scene in which the mischievous patriarch sees, and takes, an opportunity to escape to his girlfriend during a game of hide-and-seek with his grandson. The clash of East and West in 1960s Japan, being felt more accutely now than before, is documented poignantly. And, of course, the performances are excellent, with the saintly Setsuko Hara playing a considerably older character than her “Norikos”, and Chishu Ryu in a welcome cameo as an old fisherman.

The Artificial Eye DVD edition of the film, like the Criterion Good Morning, is simply inadequate. In terms of extras, an Ozu filmography is all we get, and the transfer leaves something to be desired. The image isn’t as sharp as it could have been, and the colour-scheme is rather eccentric, with skin tones ranging from ruddy to a chalky pink, which is probably not what Ozu intended (look at DVDBeaver's review for an idea on how this film should look). Another problem for Criterion to rectify. I wish they’d pull finger.

Someone doesn't like Israel...

2005-08-08T06:23:00.000+12:00

The New Zealand Palestinian Human Rights Campaign is an ostensible "human rights" organisation, which, like others of its ilk, seems to think that "human rights" should not be extended to Israeli citizens. Working to improve the situation of the Palestinian people sounds like a noble endeavour, sure enough, but when dehumanisation of Israel and its citizens is thrown into the bargain, something is wrong.

Much of the PHRC's on-site literature is by a chap by the name of Leslie Bravery. He appears to be an English ex-pat (judging from an earlier article of his) with something, perhaps personal, against Israel. Yes, Israel's occupation of the West Bank and Gaza Strip and the occasional abuses this entails are open subjects for debate, but Bravery never misses an opportunity to slander Israel for merely existing, ignoring key facts of the conflict and offering his readers, in occasional letters to The Listener or "editorials" published on the PHRC website, a distorted view of the situation. Ultimately, Israel is cast in a near-demonic light while the Palestinians are guiltless no matter what barbarities they commit. Like any propagandist, Bravery isn't above overstating his case using over-emotive language, hyperbole, misleading quotations and misrepresentations of Zionism's purpose. Here's just a quick sampling:

Israel’s toxic waste is analogous to the poisonous racism of Zionist ideology, which flows into and infects popular consciousness, subverting perceptions of morality. This pollution of conscience allows the resistance to occupation of an abused people to be almost universally reported as ‘violence’, while the State that is the abuser is admired as ‘the only democracy in the region’ and its leader hailed by US President Bush as ‘a man of peace.’

The wording in the above passage is eerily similar to antisemitic tracts - you know, all talk of "the Jews" casting their evil influence on the world. Bravery has claimed he is not an antisemite ("the Palestinians are semites too, you know"), but this sort of rhetoric makes me a little sceptical.

And, having supposedly grown up in England during the Blitz, he feels qualified to compare Israeli security measures to Nazi aggression:

Memories of growing up in London during the Blitz help me to understand, just a little, what bombardment must mean for Palestinians. Hitler’s air raids did succeed in making people afraid – but not afraid of hitting back – and Nazi bombs, flying bombs and V2 missiles inspired nothing but contempt and defiance.

Elsewhere, he particularly enjoys comparing Palestinian terrorists to the French resistance:

In the recent commemorations of D-Day it was noticeable that very little tribute was given to the French Resistance. These heroic men, women and children played a vital role in sabotaging the Nazi occupation – the Nazis called them ‘terrorists’. Honouring the French Resistance has gone out of fashion, no doubt, because of the uneasy resonance it must have with reactions to present-day injustices imposed by the powerful upon the powerless.

There are many differences between the French Resistance and suicide bombers - and they are not exactly subtle ones. For one, I don't recall reading about French resistors sneaking into Berlin to blow up cafes and buses full of civilians.

In his latest rant, Bravery opens with a description of the "Free Palestine" rally held each month in the Auckland CBD. He meets a young Palestinian gentleman who had entered New Zealand on an illegal South African passport (just like someone else we Kiwis know) - one supposes this is because people holding a Palestinian passport cannot enter the country. He is due to stand trial. He left South Africa, understandably, because it is a violent place and chose New Zealand because it was the clean, green, very friendly and welcoming country it is reputed to be. Then...

He finally asked me, "Why is the New Zealand Government so friendly to Israel?" I couldn't think of an adequate reply.

The New Zealand government is "friendly" to Israel? Surely, Bravery could've told his new friend about the "Israeli Spy" scandal, which received world-wide attention and prompted Auntie Helen to cut all diplomatic ties with Israel until fairly recently, when she was presented with the apology she demanded. But as the Palestinians are supposed to be a beleaguered people with no friends in the world, such information is easily ignored in favour of a "purer" narrative of Palestinian victimhood and Israeli malevolence.

And here come the comparisions:

Israeli passport holders enjoy visa-free visitor status when entering this country, while every possible obstacle is placed in the way of Palestinians wishing to do the same. Israel does not allow the Palestinians free right of entry or exit from their own land. The Zionist State does not even allow freedom of movement to Palestinians within their own land. As you may read above, Israel does not, at times, even allow Palestinians the freedom to enter or leave their own homes. Worse still, Palestinians all too often are not even allowed the freedom to move from room to room within their own homes!

Aside from the usual hysterics, no context is provided (note also the disdainful reference to the "Zionist State"). Israel is simply making the Palestinians' lives a misery for sheer sadistic pleasure.

A Palestinian mother has within the past 48 hours been beaten up in her home and her children terrorised by soldiers imbued with an ideology of ethnic supremacy.

This is a common Bravery tactic - take one horrible (isolated) incident, and blow it out of proportion to present an illustration of how absolutely evil Israel is (and don't forget to bring in the children!) The fact that the evil IDF stormtroopers Bravery vilifies include among their ranks Jews of numerous shapes and colours as well as Arab, Druze and other non-Jewish soldiers (and citizens of Israel) makes nonsense of his allegation that they are somehow "imbued with an ideology of ethnic supremacy". And the fact that I can't seem to find any information about the above incident (and probably wouldn't outside a press release from the lovely ISM) speaks volumes.

The Occupation and the settlements are in flagrant violation of the human rights and international law that New Zealand claims to support. It looks very much as though New Zealand is selective when it comes to demanding that other countries respect human rights. "Why is the New Zealand Government so friendly to Israel?" That's a very good question.

New Zealand should redeem itself by withdrawing the special favour it accords Israeli passport holders until Israel accords a similar dignity to Palestinians.

In the end, it's funny that Bravery, so eager to condemn collective punishment, supports the idea of refusing entry to Israeli citizens because of the perceived "crimes" of their government.

What a joke.

The Novel: alive and well (apparently)

2005-08-07T20:52:00.000+12:00

A rather interesting article, courtesy of the Guardian, on the state of the novel today, by former judge of the Booker Prize, Jason Cowley.
Now, I usually find myself having to watch my step when it comes to the Guardian. It is, after all, a left-of-centre publication, and although it has probably one of the best arts and literature sections of any newspaper, the insidious ghoul of Political Correctness rears its ugly head all too often. If you're willing to look past the incessant America-,Israel-,Blair-bashing of the politics and world affairs columns, you'll probably find something of substance elsewhere in the paper, like this piece, fr'instance.

Cowley, among other things, refutes the suggestion that the tragic events of September 11, 2001 have altered irrevocably the literary artist's ability to come to terms with a world suddenly made new:

Yet the evidence from the new novels I have read so far this year is quite the contrary - our writers have not allowed the extremity of 11 September and the wars that have followed to silence or defeat them; their imaginations seem far from meagre. The 'culture' is not overwhelming them. Quite the opposite, in fact, because this is, I think, perhaps the richest year for contemporary British and Commonwealth fiction since the launch of the Booker Prize in 1969, with most of our best novelists - Ian McEwan (Saturday), Kazuo Ishiguro (Never Let Me Go), Zadie Smith (On Beauty), JM Coetzee (Slow Man), Julian Barnes (Arthur & George), Salman Rushdie (Shalimar the Clown), Hilary Mantel (Beyond Black) - publishing exceptional new works.

Having read most of these novels, as well as outstanding books from emerging writers such as Louise Dean (This Human Season, which is set in a Belfast riven by sectarian conflict) and James Meek (The People's Act of Love, which is set in Siberia during the years following the Russian Revolution), I would argue that the novel, so often declared dead or moribund by VS Naipaul and other cultural pessimists, is as vital now in this time of profound political crisis as it has ever been - and continues, through the popularity of reading groups and the huge influence of television programmes... as well as the astonishing popularity of global bestsellers such as the Harry Potter books and Dan Brown's conspiracy thrillers, to be the principal artistic form of our times.

This is heartening news. Even the most devastating of occurrences should not dampen the artist's creative fire, and today's post-9/11 world proves a veritible gold-mine of subject matter for talented writers:

The devastating events of 11 September 2001 and the subsequent wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, as well as the second wave of mass asylum-driven immigration into Britain and the emergence of our new wired-up, interconnected world, have changed everything in this country. As has the emergence of writers such as Monica Ali, Zadie Smith and Andrea Levy, who write with such verve and insight of the shifting realities of the lives of the new Britons, the black, Asian and mixed-race people, and their descendants, who arrived here in the post-war years and whom you seldom, if ever, encountered in novels, except in mocking or pejorative representation.

Mitzi Angel, a senior editor at Fourth Estate, and one of the most talented of the younger generation of publishing editors, says: 'It's always difficult to look for patterns in fiction, but perhaps some do stand out. There are this year, for example, the dystopian elements to Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go; Rupert Thomson's Divided Kingdom, and Michael Cunningham's Specimen Days. All three novelists have imagined alternate worlds in which the interactions of man, machine, technology and political experiments result in terror. I couldn't read these without remembering David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas, published last year, which also deals with a post-apocalyptic future and the breakdown of civilisation.'

Novelists have, of course, been conjuring up these sorts of visions for centuries; but, as Angel continues, 'Perhaps the uncertainties of a post-11 September world have lent this kind of questioning more urgency. This year, some novels have tackled the attacks on the World Trade Centre head-on - such as Jonathan Safran Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close or, very recently, Chris Cleave's Incendiary (which was published on the day of the London bombings) or Frederic Beigbeder's Windows on the World, published last year, in which he replays the last moments in the building.

McEwan's Saturday, by contrast, seems to be about the shift in consciousness that has occurred since the attacks; the heightened sense of danger that seeps into ordinary life ... the emphasis here is on the fragility of the domestic world.' Of this year's leading Booker contenders, Saturday certainly offers the most complete fictional response so far to the murderous attacks on New York and Washington and how they have altered the way we think, act and remember. (The visionary French novelist Michel Houellebecq's Platform, about the clash between western secularism and Islamic puritanism, was published just before 11 September.)

Cowley also offers this brief yet honourable defense of the novel as a genre:

[N]o other art form privileges consciousness and interiority in quite the same way. One can tell fabulous stories through moving images, but how to show thought in film without resorting to the clumsy device of the voice over? How to show in film what Virginia Woolf called the 'quick of the mind'? Only the novel can truly show, from the inside, how it feels to move through space and time, from one day to the next, with contradictory thoughts constantly clashing, over the narrative of a lifetime.

Bravo.

I'm looking very forward to dipping into some of these titles. I have Ishiguro's book sitting in my to-read pile, and Rushdie, McEwan and Coetzee (especially) are sure to make their way in that direction before the year is out.

Incidentally, this year's Booker longlist is out on 10 August.

Worth a tick on the calendar

2005-08-06T15:04:00.000+12:00

On Wednesday, 10 August, National Radio is broadcasting a programme on one of the unsung geniuses of "popular" music, Richard Thompson:

11.06am Nine to Noon Artist of the week

Marty Duda features British singer, songwriter and guitarist Richard Thompson.

Thompson first made his mark as a founding member of acclaimed folk/rock band Fairport Convention in the late 1960s. After leaving the band in the early 70s he recorded both as a solo artist and as a duo with his wife Linda Thompson. The couple split in 1982 and Richard Thompson has continued to record on his own. We’ll feature music from his brand new album, Front Parlour Ballads, along with tracks from throughout his career.

I have just ordered my copy of Front Parlour Ballads from Real Groovy, Auckland. It should be in store in the coming week. It has been getting some favourable reviews from the likes of the Guardian and the Independent, and I have high hopes for it. Then, again, Thompson is one of the most consistently excellent musicians in the biz, so I don't think I'll be too disappointed.

Thoughts on Good Morning (Yasujiro Ozu)

2005-08-03T20:08:00.000+12:00

I saw this 1959 Ozu film yesterday. Critics often reference it as a remake of Ozu's 1932 silent masterpiece, I Was Born But..., and while I do not think it is as good as the older film, it holds its own quite well. In so far as similarites go, both movies concern young children who rebel against their parents for one reason or another: in I Was Born, But..., a father's obsequious behaviour provokes a hunger strike, while in Good Morning, two boys take a vow of silence after their parents refuse to buy them that most beloved of household appliances: the television set.

It is probably the most light-hearted Ozu film I have yet seen. I Was Born, But..., despite its inspired scenes of slapstick comedy, has moments of the quietly intense drama that would prove an Ozu trademark in later years. Good Morning, however, is Ozu making a film almost completely from the child's perspective. I mean, who would've thought that Ozu-san, of all people, would ever include fart jokes in a movie? Yet it is not all flatulence: the scenes of childhood rebellion, high-jinks and camaraderie ring absolutely true. The adults themselves - the gossipy housewives and frazzled salarymen - though not the focus of the film, have their moments as well. Ozu regular Chishu Ryu turns in an excellent performance as the the obstinate dad and Eiko Miyoshi is hilarious as the neighbour grandmother with a knack for warding off shifty peddlers.

What we have in the end is a humourous commentary on both the mounting consumerism of late 1950s Japanese society and problems of communication between the generations and sexes.

Sadly, the Criterion DVD is atrocious. No extras, liner notes that say nothing, and worst of all, an awful transfer - I could've sworn I saw the colours fluctuate from time to time. This is especially noticeable at the beginning, when the colour of the burlap against which the credits appear subtly wobbles from brown to yellow. Thankfully, Criterion made up with their following Ozu releases. All 3 of them. It's about time they released some more - chop, chop!

Pic of the week

2005-07-25T20:09:00.000+12:00

Gary Tooze and the boys at DVDBeaver have reviewed Criterion's recent crop of Seijun Suzuki DVDs, and they look mighty impressive.

I am sorry to say I am not at all familiar with Suzuki's work, but hey, the man even looks like a legend:

So much shouting

2005-07-24T14:12:00.000+12:00

Well, yesterday marked the end of the first week back from the inter-semester break. At this time, Auckland Uni holds a mini-Orientation week to “celebrate” the start of the second semester and to help new students find their bearings around campus. As with the “official” Orientation week at the start of the academic year, some of university’s clubs and societies set up tables in the quad and surrounding areas to advertise their presence and gather new recruits. Early in the week, passing time between lectures, I decided to have a look-see. There were the usual sporting clubs, a fair number of Christian/worship groups, the politicos (Act, National and Labour were slumped together in one little nook!) and the usual esoteric semi-cults.

Lo and behold, Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP) were there too. I did not see them at the beginning of the year but they have been a continual presence at nearly every Orientation since the beginning of the second Intifada. The membership seems to be made up generally of Arab students and misguided, left-leaning white kids always eager to express solidarity with the latest certified “victim” group. Their Orientation tables are normally laden with such paraphernalia as photocopies of anti-Israel articles (not surprisingly, anti-Zionist Jewish authors seem to be in favour), “Free Palestine” t-shirts, divest-from-Israel petitions and Palestine-shaped key-wrings (“Palestine” as in the West Bank, Gaza Strip and everything behind the Green Line) among other things. Pasted on the wall behind the table are posters featuring the usual propaganda stock-images - a boy, rock in hand, confronting a huge tank; frail-looking women in head-scarves walking through a gauntlet of gun-toting Israeli soldiers; the dimensions of the so-called “Apartheid Wall”.

It was all there when I passed the table this previous week. I recognised an acquaintance of mine arguing with the girl behind the table over the one-sidedness of the display. I decided to stick around. Faced with the accusation of bias, the girl replied that her group was not in the position to give the Israeli side of the story, as they were a pro-Palestinian group. My acquaintance said that it was wrong to pretend that the other side does not exist, especially given the effect of Palestinian terrorism on the Israeli civilian population.

This sparked a barrage of the usual clichés. The girl claimed that SJP condemns the suicide bombings, but (and there is always a “but”) the Palestinians have suffered more casualties than the Israelis have, and therefore have an “unalienable right” to resist occupation (she would not elaborate on the meaning of “resist”). She then rattled through the standard list of erroneous accusations against of Israel: that it is a “colonial settler state” built on land stolen from an “indigenous people”, that as such it has “no right” to “self defence” (presumably because very act of its being there is an act of aggression), that the wall is there, not to protect Israel from suicide bombers, but to imprison the Palestinians while Israel grabs more land.
I decided to step in at this point, claiming that Israel was founded on land bought from landowners and later won in a war of self-defence. The girl and other group members who had since appeared chuckled to themselves, apparently taking me for a fool. One member then confronted me over the injustice of having one’s land stolen and being kicked out to make room for “Russians and Ethiopians”. The Palestinians didn’t have anything to do with the Holocaust, why should they pay for it? I felt tempted to bring up the 1947 UN Partition Plan, Haj Amin al-Husseini and the 1948 War in which both Jewish and Arab refugees were created, but any further argument would’ve led to a shouting match so I kept silent and listened.

Finally, my acquaintance brought up the issue of anti-Semitism in the Occupied Territories. The girl was quick to answer that Arabs were the true Semites in this conflict, while most Israelis are Europeans (thus making Israel a colony and those who live there morally irrelevant). Understandably, she was oblivious to the facts that “anti-Semitism” was a term coined in 19th Germany as a euphemism for “Jew-hatred” and that Israel’s population is composed mostly of Jews from Arab and Muslim countries who have never lived a day of their lives in Europe. She turned to the issue of the checkpoints, using them as an example of Israelis behaving like the Nazis who had persecuted the Jews. I jumped in again, telling her that only after Israel erects gas chambers in the territories can we talk about Nazism. This was met with another giggle of incredulity. One of the other members butted in, asking how I could expect the Palestinians to defend themselves from “Israeli aggression”. I answered that once the Palestinians reject terror there will no need to “defend themselves” (as he defined it). My acquaintance and I decided to leave it at that, and walk away.

Needless to say I felt I needed a good detox after this unsavoury exchange.

I had had dealings with the SJP in previous years. My first confrontation at an SJP table was with a European girl whose knowledge of the conflict was severly limited. It was far from a provocative discussion. The people at the table last week, on the other hand, were students who, being Arab and/or Muslim, had a more emotional attachment to their cause. While I admit that, as a Zionist, I too have invested my share of emotion in pro-Israel advocacy, I like to think there is no substitution for reasoned argument based on facts. I will admit freely that Israel is not always right, that it has made some mistakes in the past and that the Palestinians have a grievance. I look forward to the day when Israel ends its occupation of the West Bank and Gaza and the Palestinians are able to live life without the humiliation of checkpoints and curfews and the Israelis can board a bus or sit down in a café without fearing for their lives. However, this withdrawal is conditional upon the Palestinians’ renouncing the terrorism that has led to the implementation of the measures that make their lives difficult. A wall can be pulled down, but lost lives cannot be restored.

To end off, here is an excellent article from Shalom Lappin, a liberal Israeli professor, on the fallibility of the “Israel as a product of European colonialism” argument:

Avoiding Distortions of History

Welcome. Shalom. Haere Mai.

2005-07-19T09:53:00.000+12:00

Well, I think some introductions are in order.

I am 22 years of age and currently in my first year of an Master of Arts degree in English at the University of Auckland. I live in the city's south-eastern suburbs, a region with a high immigrant population. I am an immigrant myself, having left South Africa, the country of my birth, for New Zealand in 1993. I am Jewish, and consider my Jewishness central to my personal identity. That would make me an ex-South African New Zealand Jew, I guess. I'm tempted to add my eye-colour to that list, but then again, no...

As far as my political beliefs are concerned, if pressed I would say I am centre-right, but I am not all that fond of labels. That said, I am a Zionist, and I support the State of Israel's right to exist as the homeland of the Jewish people. I dislike extremism in any form, political or religious and I deplore totalitarianism.

Literature, writing, film and music are my passions. More about these later.

Coming soon: a list of links to webpages that I like.