bits/bobs
Block-age
My relationship with Adam and Joe has been a bit rocky so far. Several different people whose opinions I respect had recommended their 6 Music show to me, but for whatever reason I never jumped in. Then when I finally popped my podcast cherry in South Africa, my expectations had built up to such extreme levels that they were always going to disappoint. Worse, the postmodernism, silly voices and absence of any sort of heart made me furious. I hated this self-indulgent crap!
Oh well, to cut a long story short I've been listening to the new batch of podcasts from the start and I like them now. Sorry about that. The one quality that helped them to crowbar their way into my affections was how media-literate they are, and it's this that makes Attack the Block a qualified success. The general consensus seems to be that this is a 7 out of 10 film and I'd have to agree. It's a great concept, and as Cornish has pointed out comparisons to Shaun of the Dead are unfair - this is more loving homage to the comedy horror genre than gleeful horror spoof.
But, although it was a brave decision by Cornish to make his heroes inner-city kids of the most tabloid-unfriendly kind, and to not shy away from their criminal exploits to boot, the transformation from muggers to loveable rogues is never 100% convincing. Still, it's never less than fun. See, A&J can do sincere!
If I had a hammer...
Thor is an entirely different beast. Marvel clearly enjoy making big mainstream blockbusters whilst offering some kind of interesting hook, whether it be in casting (Ed Norton, Robert Downey Jr) or choice of director (in this case Ken Branagh), to lure in people outside of the standard target audience. I have to say, my heart sunk during the first half hour of this, as all the money appeared to have been spent on lavish CGI landscapes, nasty Frost Blokes and SIR ANTHONY HOPKINS's hair rather than the godawful, portentious script.
However, once the mighty Thor (likeable beefcake Chris Hemsworth) is stripped of his status and his weapon (lol) and chucked down to Midgard (Earth to you), we get some genuinely funny and charming fish-out-of-water sequences where Natalie Portman's geek's-wet-dream Scientist (accompanied by Stellen Skarsgard and a scene-stealing turn from Kat Dennings) helps our hero get his mojo back. Unfortunately the final Act comprises more superficial CGI battlefests and clunky God-speak, but the endearingly cheesy middle section just about saves it.
Pretentious? Nous?
The world was in danger of forgetting Suede. The band who kickstarted the 90s British guitar music resurgence found themselves out of step with the Britpop era, and after the implosion of the Brett Anderson-Bernard Butler partnership they managed just one more good album before slowly fading into irrelevance. Then The Tears, Butler and Anderson's tentative reunion project, fell flat, after which Anderson embarked upon a decidedly low-key solo career while Butler retreated to the backroom to become a respected producer.
It's therefore no surprise that Suede, minus Butler, have joined the burgeoning nostalgia circuit. The rapturous reception at their Albert Hall show last year encouraged them to book a run of Brixton shows featuring all of the first three "any good" albums. I chose the Dog Man Star show, it being my favourite, but there was plenty of pressure because I'd seen what I reckon was their penultimate "first era" show circa 2003 wherein they played most of that record, and boy was it good. There was also the question of how well the album would hold up nearly two decades on. Was it simply the sort of pretentious nonsense which I'd now grown out of?
Happily, this show delivered in spades. What struck me most is that Anderson didn't need to utter a single word to the audience. We all knew what we were here for, and the band still knew how to perform these beautifully OTT songs. When they weren't playing, band and singer simply basked in the warm glow of adulation radiating around the Academy. The biggest cheer came when Richard Oakes essayed the big solo midway through The Asphalt World - Butler's crowning moment of self-indulgence - and was more than equal to the challenge.
The encore included much-loved B-sides and key early tracks - My Dark Star, Killing of a Flash Boy, Stay Together, So Young, Animal Nitrate... Everything a fan could want, in other words. This was the kind of thing that gives nostalgia a good name.
A quick word on the new Wild Beasts album - Smother travels further down the path began by the great Two Dancers, the edges slowly being planed off their sound which won't please everyone. Albatross sails very close to the MOR wind, and was a very odd choice of single (or pre-release track, or whatever you'd call it these days). Personally I'd love a few more uptempo numbers, but clearly this is a band capable of beguiling moments which are shot through with playful darkness.
I suppose as a “proper” sports fan my argument could be that I DESERVE more tickets than the fairweather folk who’ve just applied because it’s a special occasion rather than because they have any interest in sport. However, an application process requiring demonstration of sporting knowledge and use of lie dectectors to weed out the non-sporting types would possibly not be the most practical thing in the world.
Anyway, I went to the World Cup last summer which was kind of a big deal. (I may have mentioned it before.) Plus I’ll get to see at least one Olympic session, better than nothing. I’m hoping it’s the beach volleyball, if I’m honest.
But did he sing a tenor?
When watching Formula 1 as a kid, I was too young to appreciate how much of a star Ayrton Senna was, and although his televised death was a shocking event (I distinctly remember Murray Walker using his “normal” voice to sadly narrate the scenes) it didn’t have a profound effect on me at the time.
Senna goes some way to redressing this. It’s a vivid portrayal of a furiously driven character (pun intended) who was an outsider in the murky world of F1 politics and consequently had to fight just as hard off the track to achieve his success as on it. Asif Kapadia has constructed the film entirely from archived footage with input from a few talking heads layered on top, which fully immerses the viewer in Senna’s world for the duration.
It does mean we don’t get to see all that much of the private man away from the racetrack, although what we do see - Senna living the true playboy’s yachting lifestyle, yet still close to his family - is fascinating.
The sense of dread as we reach the Final Weekend at Imola is palpable, but when it comes the crash is brutal in its brevity. It was morbidly fascinating to learn that Senna’s body was buried with barely a scratch - what killed him was a broken suspension column which went right through his brain. Another few inches either way and he would have been fine.
(We also learn that Ron Dennis has an incredibly dull speaking voice, and that Jean-Marie Ballestre, sometime head of the FIA, appeared to be a monumental prick.)
Ultimately it's the footage of mourning in the star's native Brazil that lingers - desperate people for whom Ayrton Senna's fantastic exploits offered some release, their hopes now crushed. Watch this, naysayers, and then try claiming that sport isn't important.
My relationship with Adam and Joe has been a bit rocky so far. Several different people whose opinions I respect had recommended their 6 Music show to me, but for whatever reason I never jumped in. Then when I finally popped my podcast cherry in South Africa, my expectations had built up to such extreme levels that they were always going to disappoint. Worse, the postmodernism, silly voices and absence of any sort of heart made me furious. I hated this self-indulgent crap!
Oh well, to cut a long story short I've been listening to the new batch of podcasts from the start and I like them now. Sorry about that. The one quality that helped them to crowbar their way into my affections was how media-literate they are, and it's this that makes Attack the Block a qualified success. The general consensus seems to be that this is a 7 out of 10 film and I'd have to agree. It's a great concept, and as Cornish has pointed out comparisons to Shaun of the Dead are unfair - this is more loving homage to the comedy horror genre than gleeful horror spoof.But, although it was a brave decision by Cornish to make his heroes inner-city kids of the most tabloid-unfriendly kind, and to not shy away from their criminal exploits to boot, the transformation from muggers to loveable rogues is never 100% convincing. Still, it's never less than fun. See, A&J can do sincere!
If I had a hammer...
Thor is an entirely different beast. Marvel clearly enjoy making big mainstream blockbusters whilst offering some kind of interesting hook, whether it be in casting (Ed Norton, Robert Downey Jr) or choice of director (in this case Ken Branagh), to lure in people outside of the standard target audience. I have to say, my heart sunk during the first half hour of this, as all the money appeared to have been spent on lavish CGI landscapes, nasty Frost Blokes and SIR ANTHONY HOPKINS's hair rather than the godawful, portentious script.
Pretentious? Nous?
The world was in danger of forgetting Suede. The band who kickstarted the 90s British guitar music resurgence found themselves out of step with the Britpop era, and after the implosion of the Brett Anderson-Bernard Butler partnership they managed just one more good album before slowly fading into irrelevance. Then The Tears, Butler and Anderson's tentative reunion project, fell flat, after which Anderson embarked upon a decidedly low-key solo career while Butler retreated to the backroom to become a respected producer.
It's therefore no surprise that Suede, minus Butler, have joined the burgeoning nostalgia circuit. The rapturous reception at their Albert Hall show last year encouraged them to book a run of Brixton shows featuring all of the first three "any good" albums. I chose the Dog Man Star show, it being my favourite, but there was plenty of pressure because I'd seen what I reckon was their penultimate "first era" show circa 2003 wherein they played most of that record, and boy was it good. There was also the question of how well the album would hold up nearly two decades on. Was it simply the sort of pretentious nonsense which I'd now grown out of?
Happily, this show delivered in spades. What struck me most is that Anderson didn't need to utter a single word to the audience. We all knew what we were here for, and the band still knew how to perform these beautifully OTT songs. When they weren't playing, band and singer simply basked in the warm glow of adulation radiating around the Academy. The biggest cheer came when Richard Oakes essayed the big solo midway through The Asphalt World - Butler's crowning moment of self-indulgence - and was more than equal to the challenge.
The encore included much-loved B-sides and key early tracks - My Dark Star, Killing of a Flash Boy, Stay Together, So Young, Animal Nitrate... Everything a fan could want, in other words. This was the kind of thing that gives nostalgia a good name.
A quick word on the new Wild Beasts album - Smother travels further down the path began by the great Two Dancers, the edges slowly being planed off their sound which won't please everyone. Albatross sails very close to the MOR wind, and was a very odd choice of single (or pre-release track, or whatever you'd call it these days). Personally I'd love a few more uptempo numbers, but clearly this is a band capable of beguiling moments which are shot through with playful darkness.
Ticketty-boo
I’ve actually managed to secure £46 worth of Olympic tickets out of the £1000+ for which I applied, equating to 2 tickets for one as yet unknown event. Plenty of people are pissing and moaning after failing to secure anything, but I’m not sure how the system could be much fairer. A first-come first-served sale would rule out anybody who couldn’t be by their computer or phone at a particular time, and would doubtless have triggered a network/server meltdown at Ticketing HQ.I suppose as a “proper” sports fan my argument could be that I DESERVE more tickets than the fairweather folk who’ve just applied because it’s a special occasion rather than because they have any interest in sport. However, an application process requiring demonstration of sporting knowledge and use of lie dectectors to weed out the non-sporting types would possibly not be the most practical thing in the world.
Anyway, I went to the World Cup last summer which was kind of a big deal. (I may have mentioned it before.) Plus I’ll get to see at least one Olympic session, better than nothing. I’m hoping it’s the beach volleyball, if I’m honest.
When watching Formula 1 as a kid, I was too young to appreciate how much of a star Ayrton Senna was, and although his televised death was a shocking event (I distinctly remember Murray Walker using his “normal” voice to sadly narrate the scenes) it didn’t have a profound effect on me at the time.
It does mean we don’t get to see all that much of the private man away from the racetrack, although what we do see - Senna living the true playboy’s yachting lifestyle, yet still close to his family - is fascinating.
The sense of dread as we reach the Final Weekend at Imola is palpable, but when it comes the crash is brutal in its brevity. It was morbidly fascinating to learn that Senna’s body was buried with barely a scratch - what killed him was a broken suspension column which went right through his brain. Another few inches either way and he would have been fine.
(We also learn that Ron Dennis has an incredibly dull speaking voice, and that Jean-Marie Ballestre, sometime head of the FIA, appeared to be a monumental prick.)
Ultimately it's the footage of mourning in the star's native Brazil that lingers - desperate people for whom Ayrton Senna's fantastic exploits offered some release, their hopes now crushed. Watch this, naysayers, and then try claiming that sport isn't important.
Comments