When I was in Christchurch recently, I was busy catching Pokemon in the Botanical Gardens, and needed the toilet, so thought, why not hit up the Museum. Its been a while. I hit at just the wrong time, a bus had arrived with about forty Chinese tourists, who just loved the Street, and were literally piled in like sardines, taking photos, shuffling past each other politely, but not moving at all. If there was an earthquake at that moment, I imagine some kind of surreal disaster scene would have unfurled with a horrific stampede leaving trampelled bodies and devastated set pieces and a beautifully artistic vision of the early Christchurch street painted red.
- Mystery Show - Starlee Kine -
this show is all about kinda every day little mysteries, she solves stuff like how tall is Jake Gyllenhal, which was this big internet mystery thing, and did Britney Spears read this failed book of this novellist, that she saw her in one picture on the internet with. There are only 6 of these, nice easy gentle stories.
My favourite possibly Belt Buckle - where someone finds this random, personally made belt buckle on the ground, and she tracks down the owner like 20 years later.
Anyway, the main auditorium thing had a RDU exhibition (Christchurch Uni Radio which Jon worked at briefly). It was not that interesting, but I absolutely combed it searching for any reference to Jon. Sadly, there was nothing, but it still made me think of the strange pull of radio, something I've never really felt anything towards until recently. As you are both aware, I never really took to music in the same way that you both did, and so I guess, radio never held an appeal, first music I acquired from dad, and new music I acquired from jonathan, and when spotify came along, the discover playlist has essentially redefined how I listen to music. (In truth, its a heady combination of Steve Reich and John Adams, Hamilton, and Indie Reflective Crooners).
I guess it was growing up in our fairly apolitical household, but National Radio never really reared its head. So I didn't think of radio as a story telling device or learning tool. Considering all of our civilizations are built on oral traditions, and our family was absolutely entranced and obsessed with television, you'd think this would have played more of a part in our lives up until now (and to be fair - it probably does with both of you, Jocks, because you are just generally smarter, and Dad, because you drive long distances so listen to radio regularly).
Cutting through the rather lengthy and rambling introduction, a brief fling last year, introduced me to the wonders of this world. She was listening to Welcome to Nightvale one day, and I became completely obsessed with it. Don't get me wrong, its terrible, like objectively pretty awful, the basic idea is that it is a radio show from a town which is essentially a horrific dystopian science fiction world reporting half propoganda, and half frank acceptance of the horrors around him, the first two are quite entertaining, but beyond that the concept gets very stretched, but at the same time, it got me interested. And since then I haven't stopped.
Key shows to check out:
- This American Life - Ira Glass - wide ranging stories, mainly about Americans, usually in the form of a survey or very short story, and then two or three indepth stories, often a mix of guided journalism, stand up comedy, or readings from books. Mostly one hour in length.
Fiasco - how bad things can really get.
Poetry of Propaganda - three stories about propaganda, fairly entertaining.
- Serial - Sarah Koenig - so many difficult names in podcasts - two seasons of this, by far the most popular podcast ever. Basically she just takes this murder trial where first it seems pretty clear that they didn't have enough evidence to get a conviction, but they got one anyway, and second, its not really clear whether he did it or not, it will have you guessing, right till the end. Listen to the first one, it will hook you in.
Poetry of Propaganda - three stories about propaganda, fairly entertaining.
- Serial - Sarah Koenig - so many difficult names in podcasts - two seasons of this, by far the most popular podcast ever. Basically she just takes this murder trial where first it seems pretty clear that they didn't have enough evidence to get a conviction, but they got one anyway, and second, its not really clear whether he did it or not, it will have you guessing, right till the end. Listen to the first one, it will hook you in.
- Radiolab - Robert Krulwich and Jad Abumrad - like This American Life but slightly more polished, not to say its better, although I do think its a bit better, I think the interplay between Robert and Jad is excellent. Anyway, two episodes I remember:
Black Box - three amazing little stories.
From Tree to Shining Tree - Tree's are organ donors.
- Radiolab has a great spin off called More Perfect, its worth checking out, talks about the history of the Supreme Court, and its just fascinating. Mainly driven by Jad.
Black Box - three amazing little stories.
From Tree to Shining Tree - Tree's are organ donors.
- Radiolab has a great spin off called More Perfect, its worth checking out, talks about the history of the Supreme Court, and its just fascinating. Mainly driven by Jad.
- Reply All - PJ Vote and Alex Goldman -
I've Killed People and I Have Hostages - essentially about what happens when you have people playing computer games live on youtube, and an overly armed police force.
I've Killed People and I Have Hostages - essentially about what happens when you have people playing computer games live on youtube, and an overly armed police force.
- Mystery Show - Starlee Kine -
this show is all about kinda every day little mysteries, she solves stuff like how tall is Jake Gyllenhal, which was this big internet mystery thing, and did Britney Spears read this failed book of this novellist, that she saw her in one picture on the internet with. There are only 6 of these, nice easy gentle stories.
My favourite possibly Belt Buckle - where someone finds this random, personally made belt buckle on the ground, and she tracks down the owner like 20 years later.
- Invisiblia - quite similar in vibe to Radiolab/This American Life - very focused on the internal brain stuff.
How to Become Batman - you probably saw the news article about the blind guy who clicks to see things, this is the science behind that, and its very interesting.
- Science Vs - a bit painful, as its an Australian, but its very on the money in terms of gathering facts on controversial issues, and presenting them in a simple, objective way.
Science vs Fracking - is great, I didn't actually know that much about fracking until I saw this.
- The Worst Idea in the World - Guy Montgommery and Tim Batt - more close to home, a journey through two NZ comedians losing their minds while watching Grown Ups 2, the terrible Adam Sandler movie, 52 times. Weirdly engaging, no real story here, its just quite addictive and familiar, after hearing so many American accents, sometimes you need a break.
Living alone makes me understand why Nan leaves the TV on, while doing other things, company is important, we were never meant to live alone, its not in our social or genetic makeup. The podcasts are kinda like intelligent friends sitting around with you, telling you stories, I think especially with Radiolab and Reply All, I feel like I know the hosts quite well, I could tell you how they would react in situations better than most of my friends in real life, I even find myself talking to them sometimes.
Hmmm.
Meet my new friends: Robert Krulwich, Alix Spiegel, Jad Abmunrad, Hannah Rosin, PJ Vote, Alex Goldman, Alex Goldmark, Robert Smith, and Ira Glass
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| Nothing remotely humorous about my mustache - still going strong after three months |
Germans aren't meant to have a sense of humour, but when you are in Germany they always seem to be mirthfully laughing about something or grimly walking forward and waiting patiently at lights. A movie that Madeleine and I watched lately was the critically acclaimed (honestly critics bloody loved this film) German comedy "Toni Erdmann". This is problematic as normally German comedies are like the dregs of Hollywood B films, picture a film featuring a German version Adam Sandler or Kevin Hart or a double feature with both of them robbing a bank. Mostly these are the sorts of film being advertised in Subways. Lots of explosions and funny costumes and accents. As a German comedy, Toni Erdmann does some stirling work with costumes, mostly a funny pair of false teeth. But it is in the heartfelt and sincere story of a prankster father and a cold, career driven daughter that this film gives the most reward and you might even be found laughing mirthfully like any true German. We laughed a lot, although it definitely is longer than you would normally expect and more incisive than an American Comedy. Highly recommended.Toni Erdmann
Tom Hanks is the same age as Spencer Tracy when he appeared in "Judgement at Nuremberg". Both men were massive film stars in their time. Spencer Tracy looks haggard and old, in one scene he looks longingly at a beautiful German girl in her twenties who says "Goodbye Grandad" to him. Hanks has become dowdy and has filled out, the last time Hanks has been sexy in a film was in 1998 in "You've Got Mail" where he kisses Meg Ryan, there is no sex for Tom Hanks. The roles he takes are somewhere between prestige and action films, with the occasional foray into vaguely arthouse films - after all adaptations of Dave Eggers probably have a lesser appeal than barely articulate bestsellers by Dan Brown. Barely articulate in this sense..."Overhanging her precarious body was a jaundiced face whose skin resembled a sheet of parchment paper punctured by two emotionless eyes."
Didn't think that you anyone in the family would have read any Dan Brown but yeah, there is a reason to avoid such books. Pulling the sentence mean did the eyes puncture the parchment paper? How does a face "overhang"? What is exactly precarious about her body?
The larger questions I want to ask are around the representation of age, looking at Tom Hanks, but not in the most recent Dan Brown movie, and Spencer Tracey in "Judgement" at Nuremberg. The movie "Bridge of Spies" is a better exemplar, as both films plot centre around an older male character, are American centric so the frame of reference is the American experience and not German, the narrative is formed around one character's perspective of coming to Germany to deal with a specific post-war problem.
The inception of both of the films was mediated by time, in "Judgement in Nuremberg" the film was released in the early sixties, a time in Germany when the post-war consensus around amnesia of historical grievances was beginning to be challenged, and in "Bridge of Spies", a film released in the tweens, in a time where issues around security, espionage and geopolitics are frightening and real, and is set in the divided Berlin of the Sixties, of the DDR and its vast security apparatus funded and trained by the KGB.
But it is the main character that both of the films puts their emphasis on. Hanks plays an insurance lawyer. He's good. He's too good. He's so good that he saves the day in two hours and twenty two minutes. The film moves at a brisk pace, enough to introduce a swathe of subsidiary characters. But it is Tom Hanks humane everyman that is the key focus of the film, in these sort of roles he becomes the Gregory Peck or the Cary Grant that is lacking in contemporary cinema. Tracy plays a judge from some small town that is pulled to Germany to sit as a presiding judge in one of the Nuremberg Tribunals. The film creates a sort of facsimile of the different motivations of the Nazi judiciary, and slowly builds up the case against the Nazis while simultaneously presenting the reasons why Germany forgave and forgot the crimes of the perpetrators of the Holocaust. It is a long and poignant film, that tries to be as balanced as possible. There is this flamboyant German laywer who says he won't appeal to emotion and then gets angrier and angrier as the trial goes on. There's heaps of good stuff in the film, also the camera work is glorious inventive. So many slow zooms and tracking shots around characters.
But as much as both films are about their context, they also use age to colour the audience's understanding of the main character. That is sort of their personality, reduced down to it, they are old men. Spencer Tracy spends some time with Marlene Dietrich?! an Wehrmacht widow, it is sort of sexy, the films definitely implies that they could be a thing. But lingering over their relationship is the horror of the Holocaust, of his perception of her complicity in it. During the film, their relationship sort of peters out, there is this weird scene in a bar where everyone is singing and jolly and drinking beer. And Tracy looks really haunted, and Dietrich guilty as hell. It never implies what Tracy's relationship status is, but once he finds all the judges guilty the Wehrmacht widow doesn't see him again. But he does seem really old, when the film brings up the historical case of an older Jewish man who is found guilty of race defilement by entering into a relationship with a sixteen year old they bring out Judy Garland who looks dowdy and old too. This film is really effective at making everyone look at least fifty. Apart from that dynamic German lawyer, who got an Oscar for the role. Maybe because he didn't look so old.
Judgement at Nuremberg/Judgement at the Tom Hanks Fan Club
It is cold in Berlin. Having experienced the beginning of winter in Birmingham, which presents a fine study in grey, unforgiving winters, and the icy adolescent freedom of sleeping in that downstairs concrete nightmare in Mount Pleasant, I had optimistically thought, through such formative experiences, that I had developed a firm and precise understanding of the notion of cold, the different evocations of cold. That sort of cold that leaves a perpetual dripping nose, the cold of damp windows weeping with condensation, bitter fields of hoar frost in school shorts preparing bold colonial children of the nineties for some strange future of deprivation. So it is with a bittersweet pleasure in Germany the combined impact of indoor heating and these stoutly glazed windows, that that cruel winter future promised to us as children is to be put on hold, at least until we return to New Zealand. Of course you walk outside and it is cold, that future becomes bracingly present. It was cold enough that my thick woollen jumper, thick overcoat and unravelling scarf have been rendered like a thin cotton shawl, like those sad shorts of Middleton Grange School. Although there was a point where I got to wear Andrew's shorts, and boy did those shorts a) not fit me and b) cover my knees. Also we did have those cool long socks, which sadly never made the extension to the adult world apart from in Football, although stopped wearing them for the social football of Nelson and never looked back.
So, back to thesis point, as I generally do when the weather is getting gloomy and the grim reality of the geopolitical landscape is slipping ever closer to collapse, I read a novel set during the Second World War. In this case it was more a book about writing a book about the Second World War, or the challenges of writing historical fiction. It was very meta, unlike the other book that springs to mind when I think of die Zweite Welt Krieg, Jonathan Littel's " The Kindly Ones", which in its own way was meta in a sort of arch attempt to highlight our gross fascination with the Nazi regime, and by our I mean, readers like me, Dad, and presumably people that read "The Kindly Ones" and, by extension, "HHhH". Both books are by French authors, and both have a queasy sense of grappling with French complicity in the whole affair. But, in reflecting, not that I have reread "The Kindly Ones" recently or probably will ever as it is a nightmare, "HHhH" was the finer book and I am disappointed I chose to read this book over the most recent book, a considerably lesser novel from the author of "The Emperor of Lies", whose name escapes me, his latest being a meditation I guess on the euthanasia programme. Note the grandiose names of these books, compared with the enigmatic almost scientific approach the publisher took with "HHhH" - although the author apparently wanted "Operation Anthropoid" for the title which is less enigmatic, but more boys own adventure . Depending on your perspective that is either a really good thing, or a terrible thing.
Such concerns could be also be courteously extended to the novel, whose premise follows the plot to kill Reinhard Heydrich, and at parts reads like the pot boiler thriller or at least a digressive and deeply postmodern analysis of said formula. Laurent Binet, the author, seems pathologically concerned with verisimilitude in this novel, making use of historical invention but deeply concerned about this whole approach at the same time.
Which is fair enough, how are we to know what a character thought? Or what occurs in the minds of others? Another French writer Flaubert was so consumed by this issue, I know this because it came up in "The Rings of Saturn" by Sebald and I can't imagine him doing something to the story that wasn't entirely necessary, every sentence seems important.
"Janine had taken an intense personal interest in the scruples which dogged Flaubert's writing, that fear of the false which, she said, sometimes kept him confined to his couch for weeks or months on end in the dread that he would never be able to write another word without compromising himself in the most grevious of ways. Moreover, Janine said, he was convinced that everything he had written hitherto consisted solely in a string of the most abymsal errors and lies, the consequences of which were immeasurable. Jainine maintained that the source of Flaubert's scruples were to be found in the relentless spread of stupidity which he had observed everywhere.."
So important, anyway. Can't really remember where I was going with this. Which seems as good a place as any to end.
So, back to thesis point, as I generally do when the weather is getting gloomy and the grim reality of the geopolitical landscape is slipping ever closer to collapse, I read a novel set during the Second World War. In this case it was more a book about writing a book about the Second World War, or the challenges of writing historical fiction. It was very meta, unlike the other book that springs to mind when I think of die Zweite Welt Krieg, Jonathan Littel's " The Kindly Ones", which in its own way was meta in a sort of arch attempt to highlight our gross fascination with the Nazi regime, and by our I mean, readers like me, Dad, and presumably people that read "The Kindly Ones" and, by extension, "HHhH". Both books are by French authors, and both have a queasy sense of grappling with French complicity in the whole affair. But, in reflecting, not that I have reread "The Kindly Ones" recently or probably will ever as it is a nightmare, "HHhH" was the finer book and I am disappointed I chose to read this book over the most recent book, a considerably lesser novel from the author of "The Emperor of Lies", whose name escapes me, his latest being a meditation I guess on the euthanasia programme. Note the grandiose names of these books, compared with the enigmatic almost scientific approach the publisher took with "HHhH" - although the author apparently wanted "Operation Anthropoid" for the title which is less enigmatic, but more boys own adventure . Depending on your perspective that is either a really good thing, or a terrible thing.
Such concerns could be also be courteously extended to the novel, whose premise follows the plot to kill Reinhard Heydrich, and at parts reads like the pot boiler thriller or at least a digressive and deeply postmodern analysis of said formula. Laurent Binet, the author, seems pathologically concerned with verisimilitude in this novel, making use of historical invention but deeply concerned about this whole approach at the same time.
Which is fair enough, how are we to know what a character thought? Or what occurs in the minds of others? Another French writer Flaubert was so consumed by this issue, I know this because it came up in "The Rings of Saturn" by Sebald and I can't imagine him doing something to the story that wasn't entirely necessary, every sentence seems important.
"Janine had taken an intense personal interest in the scruples which dogged Flaubert's writing, that fear of the false which, she said, sometimes kept him confined to his couch for weeks or months on end in the dread that he would never be able to write another word without compromising himself in the most grevious of ways. Moreover, Janine said, he was convinced that everything he had written hitherto consisted solely in a string of the most abymsal errors and lies, the consequences of which were immeasurable. Jainine maintained that the source of Flaubert's scruples were to be found in the relentless spread of stupidity which he had observed everywhere.."
So important, anyway. Can't really remember where I was going with this. Which seems as good a place as any to end.
HHhH
I spent the evening in bed, which considering the multitude of things to do in Berlin at night time always feels like a guilty pleasure but ends up being a routine that has crystallised into a form of contempt for Berlin night life. It is always smokey, Berlin being one of those precious places for people who smoke, a sort of smokers retreat. The bars are open late and filled with smoke. And then there are the clubs, which I have been resistant towards which I don't really know why. But last night I was very unwell and it started as a headache, with a wet flannel and some paracetomal and led to a two hour stint vomiting up the lovingly created omelette I had spent that early part of the evening working on. The fresh mint, the chili even the haloumi all came back to haunt me. Haunt me like the poignant strains of Phil Collins later work.
By 12.30am the crisis had been averted, so I looked up Phil Collins. Phil Collins came up in conversation in Scotland and I had been thinking about the unknown Phil Collins records in the oeuvre. The ones those classic record programmes don't focus on. The Phil Collins of love songs to midnight deep cuts where there is a sharp intake of breath from the announcer as he lovingly cues up the track and releases it cupid like into the icy wastelands of the hearts of truckers and housewives, which I assume are the listening audience of Love Songs till Midnight. How Phil Collins slowly envelops with warmth like a soft blanket of indeterminate colour, but definitely non-organic fabric.
Points about Phil Collins I wish to cover in this review.
I. The way that in the process of his remastering of all of his albums, he has taken the approach of getting the cover photographs redone and what this means.
II. The fan reviews of these remastered albums, especially what can possibly be described as Phil Collins worst album - Both Sides.
III. Obviously I will also provide my review of the 1993 album "Both Sides", but in its position as palliative after an evening vomiting rather than as a canonical work of a maligned great artist. It is impossible to hold this position.
I. Phil Collins never seems like a man endowed with a great sense of vanity, in his self presentation he has finally slumped into eternal comfort casual, but there was a time when Phil Collins was willing to be in this video:
This video, I am not entirely sure what the deal with it is, because the actual video of "Home" is set in Geneva, where Phil Collins moved to be away from the British tax authorities and maybe find himself or something. So as to be further surrounded by wealthy people and, in this case, wealthy people in the form of Ruthless Records Bone Thugs and Harmony, who make a big play at seeming tough but a cursory Google search
reveals at the very top the lyrics to "Home", their top 40 single - peaked at #33, taking us back in a recursive loop to our boy Phil Collins.
Whatever because our boy Phil Collins crushed it with this collab. Even though it is ostensibly just the hook of "Take me home", it was enough for him to be made an honorary member of Bone Thugs in Harmony for life. 1.
Is it too far a stretch to say that Phil Collin's greatest triumph was his inclusion on Thug Stories? What is it like to wake up every morning as Phil Collins?
By 2011 in response to Phil Collins' early retirement, immeasurable vicious articles lay down heavy industrial machinery sized loads of derision and scorn on his legacy. We are talking those gigantic mining machines that tear into the landscape in open cast mining, leaving dark rivulets of iron ochre in the water that look like black tears. Emblematic is this example from the paragon of dubious sentiment, the Daily Telegraph, which described him as "the most hated man in rock". In a similar vein, David Bowie subsequently dismissed his own critically reviled 1980s output as his "Phil Collins years/albums".2
In response, Phil Collins took this sad, aggrieved position, like the protagonist of Kazuo Ishiguro's novel Artist of the Floating World. The regret, guilt, the malleability of memory, the pains of ageing, solitude, loneliness are all intensely present in Collins's media output in this period.
Take this quote from the New York Times:
Basically everyone has had a go at Phil Collins, he does make a unrelentingly soft target. Billy Braggcriticised Collins for writing "Another Day in Paradise", stating: "Phil Collins might write a song about the homeless, but if he doesn't have the action to go with it he's just exploiting that for a subject." Responding to criticism of the song, Collins stated: "When I drive down the street, I see the same things everyone else sees. It's a misconception that if you have a lot of money you're somehow out of touch with reality.
Phil Collins didn't actually need to comment on Billy Bragg here, a quick look at their relative wealth:
but it is, coming back to the central point, his vanity that is at fault here. One need not look at his recent performances where he looks like some bloke from the audience has inadvertently made his way onto the stage to perform to see that this is a man who has attempted a laissez faire attitude towards fame. A problematic relationship with his success, with the contempt that has come with that success and a crumbling belief in his art. In a 2010 San Franciso Chronicle article he said of his character: "The persona on stage came out of insecurity ... it seems embarrassing now. I recently started transferring all my VHS tapes onto DVD to create an archive, and everything I was watching, I thought, 'God, I'm annoying.' I appeared to be very cocky, and really I wasn't."
So we come to this latest round of reissues for the Phil Collins legacy, for the eighties fans for whom his oeuvre represents a peak of audio fidelity and quality as it was undoubtedly used to sell umpteen hi-fis during the long years of consumerism in the Eighties glut and promise. Now in this ultra modern era, where these true believers have grown like their maligned prince into prosperous middle aged fans revelling in their younger days, Phil Collins has generously bestowed his parting gift. The remasters of his entire back catalogue.3
But Phil Collins has provided fans into the grim mirror d'abyme of his life, as he stares bleakly into the abyss Phil Collins begins to see the abyss staring back at him. He has changed all the covers from the young balding Phil Collins, to the aged, maligned Phil Collins who has faced his critics and generally comes off worse. I think I am meant to get to some sort of central thesis argument here about how Phil Collins fear of death is mirrored in his self presentation on these album covers. But really want to get to this fan review instead. Suffice to say, this whole concept from Phil Collins is a huge mistake.
Take this choice sample:
"For that reason it’s largely been forgotten, considered minor Collins. But in the absence of unforgettable hooks that smash you over the head, “Both Sides” runs deep with a subtlety and an earnestness that on repeat listens may just make it the filet of his work." http://www.deathandtaxesmag.com/194505/on-phil-collins-day-appreciating-both-sides-his-most-overlooked-album/
The album certainly runs deep, and is undeniably "earnest" but earnestness is part and parcel of the Phil Collins myth. This little battler who keeps on trying to knock out songs, despite having this irrepressible voice and often writing songs that sound fit for a bad musical about Phil Collins life.
Or this review:
“Can’t Turn Back the Years” is soft rock heaven, perfected with syncopated beat and the coo of Collins’ hypnotic voice, a standard bound to lower your blood pressure." http://www.goldminemag.com/reviews/review-phil-collins-sides
What this review fails to see is the cruel mask that Phil Collins presents to the world, of the illusion of considerable depth but the repetition of a continual theme. The recursive loop of Phil Collins, the simulacrum of emotion, buried deep is this innate sense of regret, the guilt at his failed relationships, the pains of solitude, how he used touring to escape from his responsibilities both as a father and as a husband, and the loneliness that seeps into every over-produced, gloopy recording. Every sharp tiney piano, every culturally appropriated drum loop, the Miami horns all suffused with a deep sense of abject misery. This both the horror and the profound sadness that colours Phil Collin's back catalogue, the disconnect between the reality and what his audience sees in him. Perhaps it is better to be hypnotised into a sense of comfort, this is perhaps why the cover to No Jacket Required Collins resembles some sort of demonic Svengali figure. Because the abyss is never far away when listening to Phil Collins.
III. My review of Both Sides:
Old mate Phil Collins is back! And he is better than ever! The year is 1993, the economy is booming. Do you like Toyota Corollas? Do you like those white vacuum cleaners for the kitchen bench that are small enough to fit on the kitchen bench? There were dark years back there, in the misty predawn of the new age, do you remember Black Monday 1987. Where we you? Were you frightened and alone, drinking prosecco and waiting for the dawning age of a new decade to wash away the regrets and disappointments of a lost decade. So was Phil Collins. But he couldn't escape the past, and eventually he created a new album to listen to. You could listen to it, or you could go out tonight to a smoke filled bar. You cannot do both.
Reviews of Phil Collins later work
So, I'm going to do a post about some of the podcasts that I like, to try and sell the concept to you two, but my most recent obsession is more standard.
A musical about Alexander Hamilton, one of the founding fathers of America, but built around hip hop. How much do we actually learn about the revolutionary war, I almost think its this slight blind spot in colonial history, mainly because New Zealand happened after America was already free. But anyway, if nothing else, and its definitely not nothing else, because its amazing, but it certainly is an excellent breakdown of some of the history, and his life.
I played it a lot at a trip with the gang, and it got a lot of hate, cheesy, lyrics terrible, hate that way musicals sound, I kinda felt it at the start. There are certain bits that do feel forced, but it is a musical, that is kinda the point. Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals can be painful at times, but at the same time, there is something absolutely magical about this musical. Something I think some of my friends miss. Struggling to analyse this thought i unconsciously associate this thinking with you Jocks from early days, the hipster set, hyper-critical about some thing and fawning over others, very against authentic attempts at achieving things in certain ways, like your Green Mile type criticism, but at the same time, I mean, if it reflects how you feel about things, its hard to argue, just get very frustrated when Janet tries to explain why objectively things like Green Mile are bad.
Anyway. Hamilton.
Whether its just how cool it is hearing complicated political arguments rapped, a blend of rap battle and economics and history that I feel like Dad is going to love, hits the same kind of nails that opened up rap to subconsciously racist kids, like myself, when I watched Eight Mile for the first time.
Its also a little depressing, I've listened to it through a bunch of times, and sometimes at work, and the story itself is quite sad, I mean, it is a time of tragedy as well as great victory, life is cheap, for rich and poor, and death stalks everyone, which is one of the underlying themes. But I think of more relevance to us, revolutionary set of the 21st century, this palpable sense of possibility, creation and meaning. He spent his whole life chasing something, reading furiously, writing furiously, creating this republic. He created the American centralised bank system, which for all the evils of Wall Street, has essentially permitted the stability of the western world that we live in today, massive over statement, but it certainly is a factor, and it is likely without it the American adventure would have bankrupted into oblivion many times over. And yet he was never satisfied, and he constantly achieved.
But what do we do? What do I do?
It is troubling, but if great art doesn't make you question your identity and path, its not doing its job. And its encouraging me to write, and read, so thats good, got into a bit of a dark space where I was watching a lot of 90s procedural crime, nothing bleaker, "Due South", a canadian mountie solving crimes in Chicago. I'm doing this He Papa Tikanga course with Te Wananga Aotearoa, which is eating a bit of writing time, oh god, got to call this person to take me through the stuff today.
But yes. Enjoy your travels, and your norths, and all the things.
Piece of advice (if you've got this far) - persist a bit, at first it may seem a bit weak, but it will take you and sweep you up in its passion. This I can guarantee.
He's waiting in the wings for you - just you wait, just you wait
While I am doing most of my work now deciding where to eat, I am also working my way diligently through the Kindle back catalogue. Unfortunately the Man Booker thing didn't work Andrew, which as you can imagine, I am distraught about. BUt once we get to a palce where the internet is slightly better, I will download the hell out of those Man Booker books.
As is...
Things I watched on the plane that were memorable:
Watched this by the numbers thriller about some kid who had psychic powers or something but turned out to be a human working on another level, like basically an alien version of a human of whom glorious visions shot out of his eyes in the form of blinding white light. The CIA thought he was a weapon and were hunting him down and it was reasonably classy.
Watched about twenty minutes of this millenial movie about sex that seemed pretty terrible. Its called "How To Be Single". Featured that "Social Network" effect with texts embedded in the screen that will be as dated as the boxy computers and technofear of films like "The Net", but definitely not as good. I mean who can deny Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves. I can't.
Things I have read in Bali:
1. Broken Vows by Tom Bower
Well I am about 30% of the way through this painful sledging of what reads like the worst government the UK has ever had, the Blair Administration. Reading this is like "The Thick of It" but way more depressing. He starts in a negative place, post prime minister business dealings in Rwanda and Nigeria and then doesn't stop. It is relentless. It is dreary. With the Kindle Paperwhite, it tells you minutes left of each chapter. You end up spending lots of time looking at that.
2. Grunt by Mary Roach
Was very enjoyable. I feel this was one that Dad would love, and in fact anyone would probably love this. It was all about science, scientists and the science of making soldiers stay alive. There were chapters on Sharks, Submarines, Autopsies, Diarrhea and many more. It was definitely about 100% better than Broken Vows.
3. The Psychopath Test by Jon Ronson
Even more enjoyable, Jon Ronson makes the sort of pop journalism that is tailor made for an airplane or holiday. This quick read was all about psychopaths which was told in a light and enjoyable manner, in the same mold as his book about Public Shaming, which was also really readable and enjoyable, and I presume anything else he has written.
4. My Lady Jane by three authors, who I won't be tracking down
Don't quite know why I read this, I think I was thinking classroom. Never really read any Young Adult fiction anymore, anyway. In order to liven up history, as if that is necessary, the authors don't worry with any complicated Protestant or Catholic machinations. Rather, the characters in this book can either turn into animals or not. This was basically what kept me reading till about halfway through this book and then I gave up. Its not that there is anything wrong with this book, I am just can't find the fifteen year old girl in me anymore.
5. The Flamethrowers by Rachel Kushner
Pretty good.
Belated Post for the New Year
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