Some things I enjoyed last month
Music
March began with a fabulous haul of old records gathered from various 2nd hand shops in Groningen. Old records for sure - but all were new to me. Of the 20 LPs I brought home with me (I know, I know), Hall & Oates 'Voices', Charlie Rich's 'Behind Closed Doors' and Robert Palmer's 'Secrets' and 'Clues' have made the biggest impression. All of them were unknown to me a month ago and but have quickly made themselves very welcome on the Spinbox. The Hall & Oates record, in particular, is a revelation. Although, saying that, I've never listened to any of their records so maybe they're all that good. I just thought of them as a singles band but 'Voices' is solid all the way through. Even the seemingly unnecessary cover of 'You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling' builds to more than you might expect.
So while I was working my way through each of them, they inevitably began to feed into my Spotify listening too. This month's most-listened-to songs reveal 3 songs from the Groningen Haul. Of the rest, 'Buddy', is two minutes of classic Willie Nelson loveliness; 'Falling Star' is evidence of my dipping back into Robert Forster's catalogue on the back of many listens to his wonderful new record 'Songs to Play'; Elton's 'Can't Stay Alone Tonight' is a fantastic recent-ish song that came to my attention through Spotify radio. Hasn't made me want listen to any more of his latest records though. My loss, probably. Lake Street Dive's Bobby Tanqueray is magic - they're playing Whelans this month - I'll be there! And sitting at the bottom there is Suede - a hangover from their phenomenal gig in the Olympia in February. It's also a fantastic song to run to so that explains that too.
Books
Starman, Paul Trynka's David Bowie did a fairly solid job of managing to distilling 60 years or so into 400 pages. Trynka is clearly a big fan but he's not afraid to throw a few jabs along the way. As it should be. And, considering that it was obviously published before Bowie's death, the last line packs quite an emotional punch. I won't spoil it for you.
Another biography of sorts is Ben Watt's Romany and Tom, written about Watt's parents as they approached the last years of their lives. It shifts back and forth from present-day to Watt's childhood, filling in lots of blanks about his parents courtship, marriage and careers - one a moderately successful (at least for a little while) jazz musician, the other a newspaper columnist of some repute - along the way. If it's true that every family have a story to tell, Ben Watt's been blessed with particularly fascinating characters to write about - and the skills to do it with compassion and wit.
And then came Shotgun Lovesongs, Nickolas Butler's novel about four male friends in the US midwest. Friends since childhood, the book finds them in their mid-30s struggling with new and old relationships. Their lives have taken them in different directions (former rodeo champion, famous rock star, wealthy banker and smalltown farmer) personal milestones keep brining them back to each other. It never gets hysterical or particularly dramatic but gradually you find yourself invested in each of them, pushing and pulling for each of them in various situations, as they come to terms with who they are, where they're from and the ties that bind them all together. Wouldn't be at all surprised to see it adapted for the big or small screen. There's been worse things.
Films/TV
Took a few trips to the Lighthouse last month. Anomilasa, Charlie Kaufman's existential stop motion animation, is technically brilliant but emotionally troubling. Focusing on a day in the life of Michael (David Thewlis), a motivational speaker, who travels to St. Louis on a business trip, attempts to reconnect with an ex-lover before meeting a new companion Lisa (voiced to perfection by Jennifer Jason Leigh) at the Hotel Fregoli. Not a great deal happens - although the much-talked-about sex scene is certainly memorably - but that's not to say that it doesn't give you a lot to think about. Are we meant to feel sympathy for Michael? Or are we to take heart from Jennifer Jason Leigh's closing monologue. I don't really know. It's certainly not the feel-good hit of the year but it will make you question what is to to be human or to be alive (as Michael asks his audience at one point), and that's never a bad thing, is it?
Speaking of the fee-good hit of the year, we'll do well to better SIng Street in 2016. John Carney's uplifting film about friendship, love and trying to start a new romantic band in mid1980s Dublin is a joy form start to finish. Featuring a cast of mostly unknown teen actors, the film follows Ferdia Walsh-Peelo's Cosmo, recently moved from a Jesuit school to the considerably less sympathetic Christian Brothers school on Dublin's Synge Street, as he attempts to form a pop band to impress a girl. That's really it - except it's not of course. There's friendship, romance, loss, a lovely nod to Back to the Future and great music all the way through. And Jack Reynor steals the show as Brendan, Cosmo's rudderless, yet influential, older brother. It's not perfect film but it's heartwarming, funny and wants to be loved. Filmgoers used to a more gritty onscreen representation of Dublin - particularly in the grim 80s - might be turned off - this isn't the Dublin of About Adam or The General but sometimes it's nice to see a version of Dublin onscreen that wants to make you feel good about things. Sing Street is that film.
On the smaller screen (in this case an iPhone screen) Jerry Seinfeld's Internet show 'Comedians in Cars getting Coffee' which has been around for ages is my new favourite thing. One of the great things about ignoring a show like that for 4 or 5 years is that, when you eventually get there, there's a brilliant list of guests to work through. Essentially it's Seinfeld (rich and smug) driving around with his famous friends (probably not as rich, varying degrees of smugness) before stopping for coffee in a local diner. That's it - if that sounds terrible to you there's nothing I can say that'll make it better. Perhaps the guest list might do it for you: David Letterman, Steve Martin, Garry Shandling, Julia Louis Dreyfuss, Will Ferrell, Stephen Colbert, Tina Fey, Jimmy Fallon, Louis CK and on and on it goes. Each episode is brief and often very funny.
And I could watch Jerry Seinfeld and Sarah Jessica Parker drive around in a 1976 Ford Country Esquire all day long.
Finally, Netflix has been keeping me mildly entertained this month with Suita and Bates Motel vying for attention on a nightly basis. Suits, which it seems everybody watches but nobody talks about, is all about Harvey Specter, a know-it-all, never-makes-mistakes, never-gets-beaten lawyer (who doesn't actually know it all, often makes mistakes and frequently loses) and his protege Mike Ross, a genius type with a VERY BIG SECRET THAT NOBODY CAN KNOW ABOUT that everyone knows somewhere around the 10th episode. It's fun, daft and glossy and, if I'm honest, I haven't a clue what's going on most of the time. People seem to be able to buy billion dollar corporations over lunch to move a case the way they want it to go. Is that possible? Surely it's more complicated than buying a sandwich. And the name of the show's main law firm changes so often that I just sit there thinking about all the stationery and business cards that they must have to keep throwing out and reprinting. They never change their logo though, which is a bit odd.
And then Bates Motel which is nothing like Suits except it's also fun and daft (although not very glossy). It's a prequel to the original Psycho film except it's set in the present day. So Norma Bates and her son Norman (friendly, well-adjusted, not remotely creepy) live in the old Psycho house that you remember from the film but they also have iPhones and Internet. Yet every fim on tv seems to be something from the 50s at the latest. And everyone seems to use old land-line phones in their homes too. When we switched to a new UPC package years ago we had to give up our old rotary phones. They obviously have a better provider in Oregon.
I snip about Suits and Bates Motel a little bit but they're perfect products for the Netflix age. Entertaining and disposable. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
