Category Archives: music

Age Attacks When We Least Expect It

Posted in life, lifestyle, media, music, personal, pop culture, Uncategorized by

Most days come and go without a single acknowledgement of our age. Ageing, much like growing, happens so gradually that we drift along blissfully unaware of the fact that we are literally decaying. The lines embed that bit further, body parts might ache that bit more but on the whole we’re so oblivious to this that we manage to keep ourselves firmly in denial.

There are, however, some days like today that we’re offered a less than friendly reminder that we are not as young as we used to be. Before I continue and risk the wrath of anyone over 35, I am under no disillusion that I am “old”. I’m firmly on board with the idea that life begins at 40 and I’m truly convinced that my parents are having more fun than ever in their sixties. At the tender age of 31, I can still somewhat unconvincingly boast that I am young.

Back to the day in question. Much of my job consists of spending time with teenagers. I must note that these are not the very young and impressionable, so-awkward-it’s-cute 13 to 15 years olds but the generally miffed and unabashedly honest subsection of over sixteens.  In a typical day, transporting a youngster from A to B, we will battle over both volume control and radio station. I am, without exception, always the loser of this game and on this occasion a very loud Billie Eilish won. Billie warbled “I’m that bad type, make your mamma sad type, make your girlfriend mad tight, might seduce your dad type” and by the end of the 3:14 minutes not only was I firmly convinced that she was the Bad Guy but I was also a bit scared of her. As I heard myself actually say this out loud to the 17 year old girl in the front seat with the bright red, partly shaven DIY hair do, I thought “Christ, I’m old”.

Other insignificant but, on this day, seemingly exaggerated events nodded to my not-so-young-anymore age. I found myself trying to grab at the volume dial without being caught; I found myself willing for the news on the hour; and perhaps most telling of all, I found myself gutted that I was missing the Jeremy Vine show.

The moment, however, which I believe truly sealed my fate was when I declined to join my younger cohort for a Mc Donald’s and proceeded to whip out a miniature sized Tupperware with the Go Jetters on it filled with grapes. If, by now, she wasn’t already convinced that I was 100, this did the trick. I felt immediately disappointed in myself; like that wave that overcomes you when Tesco staff zoom into your face before clicking without any shadow of a doubt “Thinks customer is definitely 25 years old or over.” I always had visions of myself as a “cool mom”, the type Amy Poehler aspired to in Mean Girls as she rocked her pink velour tracksuit and heels. Instead I found myself as a modern day Mrs Doubtfire. The dungarees or width of my eyebrows were fooling no one.

n-AMY-POEHLER-COOL-MOM-628x314 (1)It’s strange, really. We can go through life taking steps that are deemed pretty “adult” without taking much cognisance of this. We might have a mortgage and two kids but it’s the realisation that you prefer The Jeremy Vine Show to chart music that really makes you feel your age. It’s seems then that the number is irrelevant.  Age really is nothing but a number. It’s the subtle reminders that we’ve changed that are much more affecting.  It’s the things that become so synonymous with ageing, like a distaste for loud music or certain musical genres, that speak volumes (no pun intended). Like the literal ageing process, these things happen so gradually (maybe it’s a decibel for every year) we fail to notice them until one day you’re hit with the realisation that you’re scared of a 17 year old girl purporting to be the “Bad Guy”.

Those clichés – “you’re as young as you feel” – have more truth than previously suspected. I’d imagine there’s a 70 year old out there somewhere munching on a Big Mac listening to Billie Eilish who feels much younger than me.  Though who’s to say opting for a packed lunch and Steve Wright’s Golden Oldies should make us any older? If that’s the case, I’ll happily settle for being old any day.

Far From Shallow: The Enduring Power of a Star is Born

Posted in film, movies, music, opinion, pop culture, review, Uncategorized by

*so many spoiler alerts*

Five days on and I remain under the spell of A Star is Born. First of I must unequivocally state that this is not a movie review. Not only I am far from equipped to comment on any fancy film-making concept relating to camerawork or staging, but my last movie “review” basically amounted to “you either love it or hate it”, which i’m sure you’ll agree is groundbreaking stuff. This is simply the expression of a feeling; a sense that this was something very special and the lingering impact it has had.

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In life, it is rare to come across something that not only manages to capture us in a moment but stays with us once a moment passes. Visions of Cooper making goo goo eyes at Gaga etched in my brain; impromptu outbursts of “We’re far from the shallow now”; that feeling of mourning for Jack. This movie has stuck; to the extent that I have found myself nerding out to promotional interviews and critical reviews ever since. Moreover, it has actually driven me to write.

The story is tried and tested. Literally, as it serves as the fourth rendition of A Star is Born. To summarise: Boy meets girl. Boy serenades girl. Girl serenades boy. Boy falls in love with girl. Girl falls in love with boy. Boy is on his way down. Girl is on her way up. Familiar as it may be, there was something so inherently raw and real about this. The backdrop may have been the stardom of two gorgeously talented human beings but there was little glamour about it.

The music is of course largely contributory to the hype that surrounds the movie. Before the tragedy of the story crushes your heart into microscopic pieces, the music will have you using your sleeve as a tissue. When Ally (Gaga) sets foot on that stage for the first time and Jackson (Cooper) looks on lovingly with his big Arizona eyes as she belts out “I’m off the deep end watch as I dive in”, you’re gone. Caput.

Particularly for me who loves a crooner and has very little interest in the current pop landscape, the music was a breath of fresh air. Between Jackson considering “Maybe it’s Time” to concluding he’s “Out of Time”, this rock and roll served as a welcome interlude. We can kind of understand why Jackson gets so pissed at Ally for singing that awful song about some guy coming around “with an ass like that.”

Within what appears to be a conventional love story, are themes that extend far beyond a whirlwind romance, some of which have more personal resonance than others. Jackson, a long suffering alcoholic, reveals glimpses of the trauma he endured as a child, setting the scene for the movie’s tragic ending. Ally demonstrates complete devotion throughout and is willing to sacrifice her own career in order to support her husband. In the end, Jackson takes his own life to avoid ruining hers and thus A Star is Born.

What might be even more remarkable than a drunk man remembering the lyrics to a song he’s heard only once, is the talent that oozes from these two individuals. As if Bradley Cooper didn’t seem perfect enough with his flowing sandy locks and ability to embody any character on screen, he now can sing flawlessly and direct, no doubt, an oscar winning movie. Similarly Gaga who we knew could write killer songs and perform like a goddess, can now also act and looks like perfection beneath her facade of stage makeup. It really puts into perspective my inability to whistle or follow the routine of a simple step class.

While much of the movie appears bound in tragedy, there is so much positivity to be derived from it. Talent is at its best when unfiltered; having a voice is power; being true to oneself is paramount; love extends far beyond our flaws.

In truth, had I of known the outcome of this film, I doubt I would have gone to see it. I tend to avoid anything that might cause me to feel too much which this did in bucket loads.  But I am glad I did. I’m glad I watched Ally sing that french song in the drag bar. I’m glad I watched Jackson peel off her makeshift eyebrows. I’m glad I watched their love blossom and come to its untimely end. I’m glad I watched A Star is Born.

So there you have it. A non review of a movie which I have just reviewed.

5 out of 5 stars.

 

No One Dare Disturb The Sound of Silence

Posted in music, musings, opinion, pop culture, Uncategorized by

I am no music critic; just a humble listener who knows what they like and what they don’t. What I like? Simon and Garfunkel. What I don’t like? (Generally) People covering Simon and Garfunkel. I understand there is a time and a place for covers – presumably when an artist can bring something new, something unique and something arguably better to the table. There are no doubt countless examples of average songs that have been elevated by an alternative ear, a different voice and a new sound. I myself have over the years, probably to the horror of many, preferred cover versions to their originals. Some of these rooted in almost fact that they are “better” and others based on nothing more than my preference for a particular artist. In regards to the latter I’ll not be too specific as I’m liable to lose all credibility.

When you think about it, it seems an awful injustice that someone, who took the time to craft their melody, perfect their sound and create those meaningful lyrics that probably encapsulate the loss of a previous lover, should be subjected to the misinterpretation of their song. A pain which I’m sure can, thank God, only be alleviated by millions of pounds of royalties.

By the title of this piece, I’m sure you’ve gathered what has inspired my latest rant. To those who know me, they will know that I am a huge Simon and Garfunkel fan. And herein lies the bias. I am fully aware that my words are probably clouded in a spellbinding mist of love and adoration for the duo and are a far cry from a neutral standpoint. For the purposes of this, you’ll also note I have revised the lyrics to the song that you see in the title. They should read “No one dared. Disturb the sound of silence.” In this instance, someone has dared disturb it and ironically they come in the form of a band named Disturbed.  A heavy metal band, this seemed like an unorthodox choice for the group, one which I can respect and understand if little else. I often think had I possessed some kind of musical talent and decided to go on one of those TV talent shows I too would cover The Sound of Silence. A timeless classic of this nature always prompts these lesser renditions.

People writing songs that voices never share. No one dared. Disturb the sound of silence.

As I write this, my initial hardened stance has softened. Disturbed, like many of us, were inspired by the song and wanted to “pay homage and honor” to its creators by reimagining it. It just simply did not need reimagined. It stood in its original format completely perfect.  The softness cannot be emulated; the haunting undertone mirrored; the honesty echoed.

I recall hearing it live – admittedly by Garfunkel alone and 50 years later. Artie, in his seventies and struggling with his voice, still managed to perfectly embody the spirit of the song in a way that a younger man or stronger voice could not have. It belongs to him and Simon (and no, we’re not getting into the Paul Simon vs. Art Garfunkel debate now).

Others have quite openly stated their preference for this newer version. I imagine every time this happens a fairy somewhere dies. And that is where my real problem lies. I shudder at the suggestion that someone could hear both and get more from the latter. I despair at the thought that many will not even know that another or better version even existed; one which captivated audiences around the world and cemented the beginning one of the most powerful careers in music history.

I recognise that some good may come of this. Perhaps when millions flock to YouTube to listen to this song, they will note those two odd looking chaps in black and white and think to click on them – not only offering them the true Sound of Silence but a catalogue of music so wonderful they’ll wonder how they had managed to go their whole lives without ever having listened to those two chaps before. After all, it’s what happened the first time I heard The Sound of Silence.

For that, I suppose I can thank you Disturbed. But I beg you: stay away from Bridge Over Troubled Water.

 

Reality TV: Sadism and Shame

Posted in culture, entertainment, media, music, pop culture, television, tv by

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I read an interesting article this morning about the downfall of television. You can imagine the gist: Modern television – horrid. Keeping Up With the Kardashians – horrid. My inner snob shares similar views: “TV. Chewing gum for the eyes. Why, i’d much rather read a book.” 

The intellect in me – if one such exists – fantasizes about a me who consumes books on a daily basis and abhors television.  And while I can say that Keeping Up With the Kardashians is horrid (in my opinion), this admission doesn’t stop me from indulging in similar monstrosities such as Made in Chelsea and The X Factor.  I’m almost ashamed to admit that I’m actually looking forward to The X Factor starting this weekend, despite the fact that every year I watch it I want to tear my face off.  Two things here: 1. Shame 2. Masochism.

The former is defined as “a painful feeling of humiliation or distress caused by the consciousness of wrong or foolish behaviour.”  Watching the X Factor, therefore, almost equates to an act of wrong doing.  Let’s consider this further.  For instance, I was catching up on #madeinchelsea yesterday and I literally said to my sister “I’m watching Made in Chelsea even though it’s shit”.  Note: It is always essential to make this disclaimer when watching reality TV or else it might be known to others that you actually enjoy it.  Let’s get to the root of this so-called shame.  It would appear that we think we’re better than reality TV – or at least some of us do (myself included).  I think I am, or at least should be, above the frivolity of talentless fame junkies seeking five minutes of fame.  I should be watching the news or the latest documentary on World War I. That’s that little snob in me. In reality, I have the propensity to like crap TV.  Does that make me an idiot?

Worse still, does that make me a bad person? Does watching these inane examples of television reveal something darker about ourselves? If anyone watched BBC’s Extras, you’ll recall Gervais gave a wonderful dialogue on the evils of fame and reality TV in the Christmas finale.  He compared the concept of Big Brother, X Factor and the like to the Victorian Freak Show, where viewers took pleasure in watching the participants publicly humiliate themselves.  Let’s face it, everyone’s favourite part of the X Factor is watching those without the “X Factor” and the Kardashians wouldn’t be worth keeping up with if it wasn’t for their tears and tantrums.

Inherently tied up in these themes is the concept of judgement.  Whether talent based or following the lives of individuals, we’re given an insight into real people’s lives.  Yes, “some scenes have been created for your entertainment”, but there is an overall guise of reality that previous television never offered us.  Given that luxury, we can get to know people and, most importantly, judge them.  “How could he do that?”, “That bitch”, “They sound like a dead cat” etc etc. Our position of unseen onlooker allows us to jump on our high horses and condemn the behaviour of others as “bad” or “wrong” while proclaiming that we  “would never do that”. 

This idea of judgement is also interesting from another perspective. We judge others who watch these shows, assuming their intellect to be lesser and their standards lower.  A dangerous, prejudiced assumption which leaves us feeling “ashamed” to be watching these shows in the first place.  It seems we’re all too eager to judge from either perspective.

As far as the future is concerned, it is unlikely that reality TV will disappear anytime soon.  Its ever increasing amount only reflects the ever increasing demand for it. Whether rightly or wrongly, this appears to be what society wants from their late night viewing.  According to the aforementioned, this can be attributed to the following:

  1. We’re closet sadists who get a kick out of watching people make idiots of themselves.
  2. We are, in fact, the idiots.
  3. We enjoy judging others as it makes us feel slightly better about ourselves.

That seems awfully condemning, doesn’t it? You’ll be glad to hear, I’m going to offer you a much more appealing alternative: it’s only TV.