Author: David Hebblethwaite

Mercury Prize: La Roux – La Roux

Video: ‘Quicksand’

Another of this year’s hotly-tipped new acts to make the Mercury shortlist (along with Florence and the Machine), La Roux are a duo from London, comprising Elly Jackson and Ben Langmaid; though they have the appearance of being a solo act — even the name ‘La Roux’ refers to Jackson alone (though, as I’ve seen pointed out online, the name is gramatically incorrect). Now, with one notable exception, music acts named for hair colours tend not to be all that good; La Roux have some way to go yet, but they’re definitely promising.

There are two main stumbling-blocks. One is Jackson’s voice, which varies from okay to downright annoying. The second is the music, which is too in thrall to the ’80s for its own good; the duo recreate their influences rather than spin them into something new. That said, they make some good pop songs, like ‘Bulletproof’ and ‘I’m Not Your Toy’. Ultimately, though, I’d say La Roux the album is more a pleasant diversion than a great record.

Video: ‘Bulletproof’ (live)

Read my other Mercury Prize 2009 posts here.

‘A Tiny Feast’ (2009) by Chris Adrian

This post is about the second story to be discussed in Torque Control’s weekly discussion schedule. It’s not actually due for discussion until the 30th of this month; but, as noted in a previous post, I don’t know whether I’ll be online for the next week or so, which is why I’m blogging about it now.

The story in question is ‘A Tiny Feast’ by Chris Adrian, and was published in the New Yorker (and is available to read online: click the story title). After one of their periodic arguments, Oberon presents Titania with the gift of a human changeling. We join them in a hospital, where the child is being treated for leukaemia; the story chronicles how the faeries try to deal with the alien world of mortal medicine.

I think this piece is wonderful, in more than one sense of that word. Adrian does a superb job of working through the ramifications of his fantastical idea. Most obviously, perhaps, there’s going to be humour in the juxtaposition of traditional faeries and modern society – and so there is: witness, for example, the method Titania finds for playing a Carly Simon LP, before ‘[singing] to the boy about his own vanity’; or the times when the faeries’ glamour drops, and the medical staff become dazzled by the very presence of Titania and Oberon.

Yet there’s another, less playful, side to ‘A Tiny Feast’. Adrian makes some telling observations (‘The doctors called the good news good news, but for the bad news they always found another name’), but the heart of his story concerns the emotional trajectory of the characters, and Titania in particular. At first, the boy is just another changeling to her (she never even gives him a name); gradually, though, she comes to care about him – but the story-logic by which the faeries live has the final say. It makes the tale not only a fine piece of fantasy in its own right, but also a striking metaphor for how we may react to the terminal illness of a loved one.

‘The Best Monkey’ (2009) by Daniel Abraham

Niall Harrison of Torque Control has announced that, starting this weekend, he’ll be hosting weekly discussions of short fiction. In an attempt to increase the amount of commentary out there (and because I’m unsure of how much internet access I’ll have over the next couple of weeks), I’m going to blog about two of the stories in advance.

We begin, then with ‘The Best Monkey’ by Daniel Abraham, originally published in the third Solaris Book of New Science Fiction, and now reprinted online at Pat’s Fantasy Hotlist (click on the story title above for the link). Our narrator is Jimmy, who works for a news aggregator, but is tasked by his latest boss with doing a little investigation. Elaine Salvaret, a bigwig at a leading technology conglomerate named Fifth Layer, has been overheard saying something that might be a clue to the secret of the company’s strange technology – a secret that might not be ethically sound. This could be a scoop, and it’s Jimmy’s job to bring back the goods. Why him? Because he and Elaine were lovers thirty years ago.

I’m ambivalent about this story. At heart, it’s a story of ideas (perhaps the central theme is the nature of beauty and attraction, and how they relate to biological imperatives), which I found intellectually interesting; but I think the idea that acts as the engine of the plot is a little too abstract to be intellectually gripping – so the story doesn’t quite have that extra zing to turn it from good into great.

Viewing the piece from another angle: Abraham’s depiction of his future is pretty good, with some nice details like the constantly changing fashionable argot of Jimmy’s bosses (and, indeed, Jimmy’s constantly changing bosses). One gripe, though: we’re told that in the thirty years between the present of the story and Jimmy’s younger days (which may not be far off our present), there has been major environmental catastrophe; yet I don’t gain any sense of the effect of this in the story itself.

Quite a mixed reaction to ‘The Best Monkey’ from me, then (though I do feel more positive than negative about the tale); I’ll be interested to see what others think.

Mercury Prize: Kasabian – West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum

Video: ‘Underdog’

It’s strange how music appreciation works out sometimes. The Leicester band Kasabian are probably the best-known act on this year’s Mercury shortlist; but I don’t really know their music that well, because it has never really appealed to me in the past. Perhaps this had something to with Tom Meighan’s swaggering vocal style (yet it fits with the music so well), or the unusual way the band construct their songs (I have no idea why that might be, because some of my favourite bands also have unusually-constructed songs, but there it is). Anyway, now I’ve actually listened to a Kasabian album (their third) in full, I’ve changed my mind, and now quite like them. But, paradoxically, I don’t think West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum works all that well as an album. This needs some explanation.

I tend to associate Kasabian with big, anthemic rock songs like ‘Underdog’, the first (and probably best) song on this album. This is what Kasabian do best, and there are a few other songs here in that vein; however, they try to do several other things on the album, not all of which are successful. ‘Fire’ is an interesting variation, that lends more open space to the band’s signature sound. There are quite a few ballads, some of which work well: like  the nicely laid-back ‘Ladies and Gentlemen (Roll the Dice)’, or the soulful ‘Happiness’ (sung by guitarist Serge Pizzorno, whose voice suits that kind of song better than Meighan’s). Others, like ‘Thick as Thieves’, or ‘West Ryder Silver Bullet’, never really took off for me.

So, West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum is quite a mixed bag; but it has made me listen to Kasabian with fresh ears, which I’m glad to have done.

Video: ‘Fire’ (live)

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Read my other Mercury Prize 2009 posts here.

Sunday Salon: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde (1891)

TSSbadge4The Picture of Dorian Gray falls squarely in the category of ‘books I know about and so don’t need to read; except that, when I do read them, it turns out I didn’t know them at all’. What prompted me to read it now? It was the choice for a new reading group I’ve joined, which met for the first time this afternoon; and it seems a good subject for a Sunday Salon post. (NB. This is more likely to be a series of scattered impressions than a proper ‘review’.)

If you had asked me to summarise the book a couple of weeks ago (i.e. before I’d started reading it), I’d have told you that Dorian Gray was a man who didn’t age, whilst the figure in the portrait of himself that he had hidden away aged instead. And I’d have been wrong. It’s true that Dorian doesn’t age; but the picture bears the marks of psychological ravages as well as physical ones — and it’s the former that prove more damaging.

We first encounter Dorian Gray at the home of his artist friend Basil Hallward, who’s been painting the titular portrait. Here, Dorian meets the vile Lord Henry Wotton, a hedonistic aesthete who values ‘beauty’ above all else, and disapproves of such values as loyalty and unselfishness. Dorian is at first wary of Henry’s worldview; but, when Sybil Vane, the young actress to whom he is engaged, kills herself (because of the harsh way in which Dorian dismisses her and the acting which is so close to her heart), Dorian sees the first change in his portrait — and this causes hm to throw himself into a life of decadence. The rest of Wilde’s novel chronicles Dorian’s decline, as he becomes ever more selfish, ruining the lives of others, even to the point of murder. He does start to have doubts and regrets in the end; but by then it may be too late for him.

I found The Picture of Dorian Gray to be a fascinating psychological portrait; what’s particularly interesting is the way that Dorian’s life and ‘self’ become distorted, even as his body stays the same; he might have escaped the ageing process, but Dorian can hardly be said to have remained immaculate, as he wished.

Related to that last point is the issue of morality. Wilde’s preface (I’m unsure whether or not it is meant to be taken at face value) includes a comment that ‘there is no such thing as an moral or immoral book’; but I do see the book as quite moral, because the Dorian’s selfishness and hedonism seem to me to be presented in an ultimately negative light. However, I don’t think a reading of the novel as a bad-things-happen-to-bad-people moral fable quite works; because, strictly speaking, Dorian gets his comeuppance for seeking to abandon his decadence (as symbolised by the portrait); and Lord Henry, who espoused in the first place the philosophy that led to Dorian’s (and others’) ruin, gets no comeuppance at all. So there is some moral ambiguity there; I think the issue is probably going to remain unresolved in my mind.

As a novel… I hestitate to judge a hundred-year-old book by my own modern standards of how a novel should be; but, for what it’s worth, I thought it well written but a little awkwardly constructed, with Wilde whizzing over a period of eighteen years between the most important events in Dorian’s life, and leaving the details of who some of the characters are rather sketchy.

Anyway, the most imprtant thing is that I found The Picture of Dorian Gray to be a good, thought-provoking read — deservedly a ‘classic’.

Mercury Prize: The Invisible – The Invisible

Video: ‘London Girl’

The Invisible, a trio from London, are the first really obscure act on this year’s Mercury shortlist; and the first thing I’ll say is that they don’t deserve to be obscure. Their music is quite hard to describe, but I’ll have a go: guitar-based, yes, but drawing on elements of jazz, soul, dance, and probably a few other styles as well.

Anyway, it might difficult to capture in words, but this music is certainly interesting to listen to. Some songs take unexpected turns, like the opener ‘In Retrograde’, which starts off with a minimal ‘nursery-rhyme’ backing, before bursting halfway through into something odd and spooky. Others take a particular sound — like the funk of ‘OK’ or the dance of ‘London Girl’ — and make it ‘coalesce’ into a continuous whole (I’m not sure if that truly captures what I mean, or if it will make sense to anyone else, but it’s the best description I can think of).

There are a couple of moments on The Invisible that don’t quite work for me, such as the spiky guitars on ‘Spiral’ — which I guess are meant to reflect the title of the song, but had a nails-down-blackboard effect on my ears. I think the biggest weakness of the album, though, is that Dave Okumu’s vocals tend to fade into the background a little too much. Perhaps, of course, that’s the intention, so that they become part of the texture of the record; either way, I still think the album would be stronger if the vocals were more prominent.

That said, this is a grower of an album that could be a strong contender for the Prize.

Video: ‘Monster’s Waltz’ (live)

Read my other Mercury Prize 2009 posts here.

Mercury Prize: The Horrors – Primary Colours

Video: ‘Who Can Say’

What did I know about The Horrors? I knew they were from Southend, and that Primary Colours was their second album. I’d never listened to them first time around; but there seemed to be a broad critical consensus that the new record was both very good, and a significant change in direction.

To test this out, I decided to give the début a listen first. Let’s just say that we didn’t get along. But it’s Primary Colours on the Mercury shortlist; and that album is a dark, moody, melodramatic species of rock. Perhaps that’s inevitable from a band with a name like ‘The Horrors’ and a singer like Faris Badwan, who doesn’t so much sing his vocals as intone them. But there’s more variety than you might expect (even a three-minute pop song, in the title track); and there’s a furious energy to the playing that stops it all feeling ridiculous. I can see without doubt why someone might love this record.

But I didn’t.

I don’t know why, but there’s something about this album that stops me from getting into it. Perhaps it’s the way the music seems to turn in on itself, whereas I prefer music that opens outwards (if that makes any sense at all). Whatever, the end result is the same. Don’t get me wrong, there are still moments that catch my ear — I keep humming along to ‘Mirror’s Image’, for example; and there’s the way ‘Sea Within a Sea’ transforms over its eight minutes into what sounds like an attempt to recreate the soundtrack of a ZX Spectrum game. But still, I find Primary Colours a difficult album to like.

Video: ‘Mirror’s Image’ (live)

Read my other Mercury Prize 2009 posts here.

Mercury Prize: Glasvegas – Glasvegas

Video: ‘Geraldine’

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First, the name. Glasvegas, it will not surprise you to learn, are from Glasgow; but their name is more than a throwaway pun – to me, it sums up the essence of their songs: a combination of grit and escapism. Their lyrics touch on harsh social realities, but the music is far from dour: this is big, epic indie-rock.

My favourite three songs on the album (all released as singles) illustrate this contrast well. There’s ‘Geraldine’, which paints a heroic portrait of a social worker; and ‘Daddy’s Gone’, an optimistic tale of someone getting over their father’s absenteeism and making a new start. Perhaps best of all, though, is the stunning ‘Flowers and Football Tops’, a seven-minute track sung from the viewpoint of a parent whose son has been killed. It’s a sweeping anthem that closes with an adaptation of ‘You Are My Sunshine’, which brings out a tender side to James Allan’s vocals.

There are no songs on Glasvegas that don’t work; if there’s a problem, it’s the same as with the Friendly Fires record – a little too much similarity in the songs over the course of a whole album. But, as I said, I’ve no gripes with the individual tracks; and there are a couple which are a real departure from the rest – ‘Stabbed’, a spoken-word piece which is as stark as its title; and the near-ambient ‘Ice Cream Van’, which ends the album on a call for unity.

The sound of Glasvegas is quite traditional, yes; but the album has a big heart and a social conscience. It’s a joy to listen to.

Video: ‘Daddy’s Gone’ (live)

Read my other Mercury Prize 2009 posts here.

The long and the short of reading and blogging

Thoughts on a couple of links I have come across:

First, Jeff Sparrow at Overland asks whether the internet has affected one’s ‘ability to enjoy literary fiction — or indeed any long books that require prolonged concentration’. It’s a difficult question for me to answer, because I became a serious reader at about the same time I gained regular access to the internet. To be clear: I have been a reader all my life; but I didn’t have the opportunity or inclination to read as widely as I now do until I started university, which was also when the internet became part of my life. There is no neat ‘before’ and ‘after’ for me to compare.

Still: it is true that the most intense periods of reading in my life (the summer before I started university, and vacation periods before we got an internet connection at home) were times when I didn’t have internet access. It is true that the internet has become part of my daily routine, such that I go online pretty much every day, but I don’t read a book every day. It is true that sometimes I find it difficult to just sit down and read a book, but that’s not because of the internet – I have a lot of hobbies, and not enough time to do them all to the extent I’d like; so there’s often a thought (irrational, I know) in the back of my mind about all the other things I could be doing.

And there have been plus points. I am undoubtedly a better reader because of the internet. Reading other people’s reviews and having the opportunity to write my own both encouraged me to think more deeply about what I read. It’s still happening: this year, for the first time, I’ve written in depth about whatever books I felt like; and this too has made me appreciate them better. Add to this the opportunities the internet brings to share thoughts with other readers – and, yes, to communicate with writers – and I must conclude that the internet has enriched my life as a reader.

The most important thing for me, though, is that, when I do sit down to read, I can still read at the speed and level of concentration that I always could. It’s true that I have less time for reading than I used to – but that because I’m not a student any more, and has nothing to do with the internet. 

That article led me to this post by a blogger called ‘Ariel’. Most readers, another blogger told her, won’t read posts of more than a few paragraphs, if that. Ariel’s post is a defence of blogging at length.

Now, there may be some truth in the idea that many online readers prefer short posts. When I look at my blog stats, I am constantly surprised at how often (not always, but often) people arrive here having apparently searched for information on a book or film I reviewed externally, then read my short post linking to the review – but don’t click through to the review itself. I suppose it’s possible that these visitors may have already read the review and then find this blog while continuing their searches; but it’s more likely, I suspect, that they want a quick thumbs-up or thumbs-down to aid with a buying decision. Which they’re perfectly entitled to want; but, as Ariel suggests, the possibilities of the online medium allow for so much more.

My posts, of course, tend to be quite long (though not nearly as long as some). True, the music posts are usually pretty short; but 800 words is not uncommon for the rest (my last book review was nearly 1,300 words, and the longest of all nearly 2,500 – but these were unusual for me). Furthermore, I don’t make concessions to ‘reading at a glance’: no cuts, no summary sections, no star ratings – you just get the full review.

I do this partly because that’s the way I think reviews should be written and appreciated; but also because I think the medium supports it. In my experience, there’s something about ‘journalism’ as a form of writing (I use the term here as a broad umbrella for non-academic styles of non-fiction writing) that makes it quite easy to read on screen. Unlike fiction or academic writing, this kind of writing is pretty close to someone talking to you in prose form; and I think that makes it easier to digest quite lengthy pieces.

Of course, not everybody wants to read long, discursive articles; but not everybody wants to read about the subjects on which I blog, either – and I have a feeling that the people who do want to read about those subjects will be happy to read posts about them that go into some depth. They might even prefer that to very short posts. So: yes, agreed, many people may not read long blog posts – but some will; and it’s never a waste of time to write at length if the people who read what you’ve written get something out of it.

How about you, reader? Now you’ve read my 850 words on these subjects, what do you think?

Sunday Salon: Evie Wyld, Zoe Green

I’ve just discovered the Sunday Salon and thought I’d join in. What I’m going to do is read and blog about some short stories online. I’ll link to each story so you can read it for yourself. For this first post, I’ve decided to tackle a couple of stories from Untitled Books.

‘Menzies Meat’ by Evie Wyld takes us to the tiny mining town of Menzies in Western Australia; and Elaine, the sixteen-year-old girl who works in her father’s butcher shop there. Elaine is frustrated at being stuck in a rut and longs to get out of Menzies; the story is essentially a portrait of how her frustration builds to a head, until… but that, of course, would be telling. At first, the narrative seems to be going all over the place, but the reason becomes clear in the end: everything — from the stifling atmosphere of the shop to the salt lake that looks the same whether it’s full or dry — is an expression or mirror of Elaine’s feeling of inertia. Wyld conjures that feeling vividly.

Zoe Green’s ‘The Wake’ is narrated by someone (who could be male or female; I’m not certain) who is dying of cancer, and currently planning their own funeral, as they watch Hester (who lives in the flat below) in the garden. The action moves, paragraph by paragraph, between the present moment, the narrator’s own life (as they ruminate especiallyon an ex-lover, Ferdi), and scenes from Hester’s past. There are some quite subtle moments of characterisation, as the narrator tries (not all that successfully) to live through Hester — so the title doesn’t just refer to the ceremony being planned; for the narrator, the telling of the story itself is a kind of wake. As with ‘Menzies Meat’, this tale grows richer the more you turn it over in your mind.

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