Julia Neugarten's Blog, page 4

Reasons To Love Jens Lekman

Last month, everyones favorite Swedish singer songwriter, Jens Lekman, released a new album: Life Will See You Know. Frenzied Fangirl will be attending his show in Utrecht next month, and let me tell you why you should be there or be square.

I’ve strenuously avoided writing about music since the birth of this blog; I find it nearly impossible. After all, “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” Impossible. I’d love to be able to do it though; to tell you why some music appeals to me, why some music makes me cry, and some music makes me want to live a radically different life. I figured the easiest way to start is by writing about an ar[image error]tist I feel strongly about, and since I absolute LOVE Jens, this is as good a time as any to get started.

For starters, I should mention that Lekman’s first album, When I Said I Wanted To Be Your Dog, is still my favorite of his, and it’s also in my top 10 albums of all time. My favorite of his songs is You Are The Light. Understandably, I was disappointed when Jens didn’t play one at the gig I attended a few years ago. Afterwards, he was at the merchandise booth to sign CD’s, and asked me whether I’d enjoyed the show. I said I’d loved it, but I was sorry he’d not performed my favorite song. So Jens sang it in my ear for me, right there, right then, acoustic. Yeah, he’s that kind of guy.

Apart from the fact that Jens Lekman is obviously an all-around wonderful human being, he’s also a super witty and inventive lyricist and a melodious, careful musician. His newest album has more of an overarching theme than his early work, which was mostly just collections of beautiful songs. Life Will See You Now is about the struggles of deciding what to do with your time on earth, and Jens presents a clear answer: love (How Can I Tell Him), be loved (Our First Fight), do something to make the people around you happy (To Know Your Mission), and have some fun along the way (Hotwire The Ferris Wheel). Also, be a supportive friend. That’s the most important message, I think.

So now I’ve analyzed Jens on the level of his personality and the themes of his lyrics. Here comes the tough bit: I’ll attempt to describe how the music makes me feel, what its emotional impact on me is and how it achieves those goals musically.

His fragile singing voice is definitely a big part of the impact of these songs for me. I grew up listening to that voice. When I was a confused teenager, he was there. The sound of the new album, however, is radically different from such simplistic gems as If You Ever Need A Stranger. By contrast, the new album is produced with much more fanfare, so that almost every track sounds upbeat and reminiscent of disco. Somehow it’s interesting throughout, in spite of this unity of sound. I’m rambling like a pretentious tw*t. Sorry. Just go listen to it.

Edith on April 20th 2017: At Jens’s most recent concert, I got to play the tambourine.

 

The Elephant In The Room Or: The End Of Writer’s Block

Just over a week ago I blogged a complaint to my Muse: she had deserted me. Writer’s block had set in and I WAS NOT WRITING. It was a nightmare. Almost as soon as I published the post, a solution presented itself. A short story of mine got shortlisted for the Fantastic Story Competition organized by Dutch Comic Con. Voting ends March 12th. VOTE NOW!

I was surprised by the effect this seemingly insignificant event had on my creativity. I felt validated, I felt wanted, I felt cool. Simultaneously, I felt like a bit of an idiot. It’s a little  childish to only write when you get positive feedback on your work, and then, when you feel as though you’re not getting enough positive feedback, to just…quit.

I want to be a writer. I mean to say: I want to make writing into a career. I want to be a person who makes a living by writing stuff. That doesn’t just mean blogging on topics I feel passionate about on moments I feel passionate about them. Sometimes it means just sitting down to do the work, which is why I’m pledging to do at least one blogpost a week from now on. Wish me luck.

There are, however, two sides to every problem, and sometimes there’s an infinite number of sides. Here’s one side: part of the reason I haven’t been blogging is because I’ve been busy. I’m a full-time university student now. I also have a job as a Latin tutor. On top of all that, I have an attempt at a social life. I simply don’t have the time to write as much as I’d like to.

I’ve argued before that there’s no such thing as a free lunch, when I got rid of my Spotify account. Consider that whenever you’re getting something for free, someone somewhere is paying the price. In the case of Findings Of A Frenzied Fangirl, that person is me. I invest my time and energy and I do so willingly and enthusiastically because this blog has brought me nothing but joy and valuable life experience. However, I don’t think it’s crazy to ask that the people who are able to afford it, the people who love this blog and want to see it continue, think about making a small donation to my Paypal. The money will primarily go to making this blog ad-free and buying myself books to review for you. If you want me to review a specific book or do something else specific with your money, just let me know!

Writer’s Block

Ironically, I’ve had a post on writer’s block in my drafts folder for ages. It went something like this: “How lucky I am, never to have experienced writer’s block. I wonder how the phenomenon works. Can you even call yourself a writer if you’re not writing? I don’t understand how people’s personal lives can get in the way of their writing. For me, writing is the only way to deal with my personal life, blah blah blah.”

It’s been over a month since my last blogpost, so I think it’s about time I redact that statement. During this month, I’ve written a number of university assignments with extreme difficulty. No fiction. No non-fiction. No fanfiction. Barely any Facebook posts. Something is fucky in the state of Denmark.

First, I made y’all a promise. I was going to blog about TJLC. I though the craziness would be over within a couple of weeks and I’d be able to blog about it comprehensively. Contrary to my expectations, the conspiracy just keeps getting bigger and bigger and bigger. I can no longer oversee or understand all of it, and I don’t feel confident blogging about it, partly because I’m not sure what my opinion is on the whole thing.

Second, I don’t want to blog about TJLC. What if it’s the last time I get to blog about Sherlock with any sort of news value? Over the course of my hesitation, the news value has, of course, evaporated, but still. Ten years from now, I’ll just be a silly lady in a quiet corner of the internet, still blogging about Johnlock. I don’t want to become outdated quite yet.

Then I went to see Harry Potter & The Cursed Child in London. My notes on the play and the experience are lengthier than the average blog post. I really need to do some editing and organizing on that post, but I don’t feel like doing that… So, I’m stuck.

Third, I don’t want to return to the rigid scheme of blogging I’ve observed in the last months of 2016. Posting something every three days leeches my creativity and makes me dread writing, when writing is actually supposed to be an enjoyable activity.

By writing about my difficulties with writing, I’ve broken the silence. I sincerely hope I’ll have something a bit more substantial to post soon. In the mean time, please root for my muse to return.

Love,

Frenzied Fangirl

PS: To the people who have been enquiring after my radio silence because reading my blog pleases them: I LOVE YOU.

Top 10 Live Rock Albums of All Time!

Admittedly, this is a seemingly impossible task. But to hell with it, we’re doing it anyway. This list compiles some of the greatest live performances ever – Rock n’ Roll renegades with no laurels to rest on and even less of a desire to stop. Some are still stunning audiences into a state of mesmerised euphoria – sending thousands of dreaming minds into a tail spin year after year. New fans formed each time they take to the stage, the next batch of loyal disciples converted with every symbol crash and telecaster screech. They won’t stop until they drop. Some have done just that. Poured their soul onto the stage until there is literally no more to give. Life’ll kill ya, ey? So here goes – The French Inhaler’s Top 10 Live Rock n’ Roll Albums of all Time in the Whole of the Universe Ever.

Before we start. One Rock n’ Rule the list must abide by!

No Anthologies! Each of these live offerings has to have been (majority) recorded on either the same night or across the same tour! That immediately disqualifies Tom Petty: The Live Anthology (2009) and Bruce Springsteen Live 1975 – 1985 (1986). Good news really, as it frees up two spaces in the Top 10 list, as this pair of albums perform a musical karma sutra on your eardrums the like of which you’ll never hear anywhere else.

And quickly – some special, special mentions:

Nirvana – MTV Unplugged (1993)

Pink Floyd – Pulse (1995)

Elvis – NBC TV Special LIVE (1968)

The Who – Live at Leeds (1970)

Jimi Hendrix – Live at Monterey (1967)

Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band – Live at the Hammersmith Odeon (1975)

Without further ado, let us begin the countdown:

10. Live at Madison Square Garden – Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band

Recorded: 2000   Released: 2001

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Bruce Springsteen is almost too good – every reincarnation that the E-Street mob go through seems to better the last. How this hardened pantheon of musical gods can play for four hours without so much as a solitary stoppage is beyond belief. Four hours!? Four hours and Bruce’s voice doesn’t falter. Four hours and Lil Stevie’s licks are as on point as they were in minute one. Max Weinberg literally does not stop pounding the drums. Don’t take that word lightly – he literally does not stop. They are magicians who come together as a merry band of mates to put on the greatest show in heaven, on earth or in hell. At one point the guitarist quartet was Springsteen, Lil Steve Van Zandt, Nils Lofgren and Tom fucking Morello. I mean, come on! This could easily have been a Top 10 Bruce Live concerts list, but let’s just try and reign ourselves in for the sake of variety!

It was a toss-up between Live at The Hammersmith Odeon (1975) and this chosen chalice. The former was Bruce’s first foray into the European touring scene and he duly made an expected impact. It’s hard to comprehend the range of songs that the E Street Band had at their disposal even then, 41 years ago, before Darkness on the Edge of Town, The River, Born In The USA and Wrecking Ball. He kick starts that concert with the astounding Thunder Road, a song repeated in all its nostalgic glory on the bands subsequent returns to London.

It’s the even greater breadth of work that led to Madison Square Garden 2001 taking the prize. Lest we forget the occasion. It was the E Street posse’s first concert tour together in over 11 years. The camera’s rolled as Springsteen rocked the occasion, smashing the millennial doors wide open and declaring themselves back with a bang. They sounded like they had never been away. Atlantic City, Badlands, Murder Incorporated and Born In The USA, to name but a brazen few, were revamped and reintroduced that night in New York. It is The River that takes the crowning glory – a scintillating, heart wrenching 11-minute version, led by a heavenly harp and defined by Clarence ‘The Big Man’ Clemons’ cataclysmic saxophone.

What followed that concert was a whole host of new hits. Albums such as The Rising and Wrecking Ball further solidified the E Street Band as the greatest at what they do, when they do it, ever. Clarence is no longer with them, but they’ll keep on rocking until The River runs dry, and until you see them live you will never understand why.

9. Stand in the Fire – Warren Zevon 

Recorded & Released: 1980

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A game changer at the time of its release, Warren Zevon’s first official live offering capitalised on the commercial success of Bad Luck Streak In Dancing School (1980), Excitable Boy (1978) and Warren Zevon (1976). It is a no holds barred, rambunctious rip tide of a recording which, over five nights of a Roxy residency, gave the world a glimpse in to the mind of LA’s finest songwriter and self-proclaimed desperado.

Zevon’s last tour, following the release of Excitable Boy, was a distant memory shrouded in a vodka induced haze. The audiences may have remembered it. Warren didn’t. He was subservient to the bottle, and his attempts to take to the stage consequently proved laughable at times. Stand in the Fire was a different affair, but not without its own “lunatic quality”, as Zevon himself put it. Booze was off the menu, at least for now, replaced by painkillers and steroids (a partnership prescribed by a physician recommended by Glen Frey). The result was the antithesis of calm and collected, with Jackson Browne describing it as the “karate on speed period”. Hardly ideal for the heart, but it made for a hell of a show.

The album is a run through of Zevon’s greatest hits from the previous decade, seasoned with a sprinkling of new songs, the standout being a cover of Bo Diddley’s self-titled piece de resistance. It boasts the best version of Jeannie Needs a Shooter you will ever hear, which is unbelievably crisp and clean given the backdrop. Zevon tinkers with each of his hits to capture the local focal points of present day popular culture. When a little old lady gets mutilated late last night, this time it’s “Brian De Palma again”, whilst the werewolf will rip your lungs out, “looking for James Taylor!”.

Stand In The Fire captures the gun slinging, bombastic first ten years of Warren Zevon’s solo career in spectacular fashion. These first ten are likely his best, though some would feverishly argue the last ten just as emotive, perhaps with more sustained flashes of genius. Zevon would go on to release many a live offering, pre and posthumously. Learning to Flinch (1993), an unplugged offering with an 11-minute version of Roland The Headless Thomson Gunner, is an instant classic. Nothing, however, can compare to this exquisite masterpiece.

8. At Folsom Prison – Johnny Cash

Recorded & Released: 1968

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“Hello, I’m Johnny Cash” breathes Old Golden Throat down a prison microphone, to rapturous applause from the incarcerated crowd. They can’t get out, and that day they wouldn’t want to. Not since Cool Hand Luke ate 50 eggs had there been such simmering anticipation in the slammer!

Hard to believe this was Cash’s 27th album, finally stepping into the Folsom foray, a smooth 13 years after its accompanying hit track was released. He had always been somewhat obsessed with prison life, a regular addition to his writer’s rhetoric and the main stay of some of his more famous tracks (San Quentin, Folsom Prison Blues, Starkville City Jail).

Cash wasn’t the only one strumming a banjo behind bars that day. Carl Perkins opened proceedings with a rebel rousing Blue Suede Shoes, followed by the Statler Brothers who performed a number of country music’s finest records. Then up jumps Johnny with that famous line to rapturous applause, before diving head first into it – “I hear the train a’coming, it’s rolling round the bend”. The hooting and hollering starts here and doesn’t finish until release day. The incarceration theme continues with a frankly perfect version of Dark as The Dungeon, bettered still by the applause enticed by Cash exclaiming the inmates are being recorded.

Cash didn’t go in to appease. He went in to rouse. Rebel. He possesses an intense, perhaps devilish rancour that he isn’t in there with them. The largest riotous howl (apart from upon the introduction of June Carter) is saved for Cocaine Blues – “Early one morning while making the rounds / I took a shot of cocaine and I shot my woman down”. It’s unusually emotive – you laugh and sing along when Johnny plays, but there’s something sinister about a room full of bandits, thieves, addicts and berserkers cheering at the idea of a bloke shooting his wife stone cold dead.

Johnny holds each and every one of those prisoner’s hearts and heads in his hands. With each song we walk further down the track – closer to the end of the mile. The boisterous joy of before begins to evaporate as the realisation of what’s about to happen hits. You can almost taste the tears of tormented men as Cash reaches the climatic final four tracks. Give My Love To Rose, a lullaby about letting your love go as you can’t provide for her, surely resonates with each and every one in the room – even the guards! I Got Stripes revisits the prison theme, before Green Green Grass of Home and Greystone Chapel leave the inmates, and every listener since, longing for home.

7.  Time Fades Away – Neil Young

Recorded & Released: 1973

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It had been a turbulent time for Good Ol’ Neil. Unfathomable success with Harvest was followed by a period of fan disillusionment, substance abuse, and ultimately, death. Time Fades Away wasn’t going to be the last time Young strayed from the norm, giving a hefty Canadian middle finger to the middle-of-the-roaders and folk rock aficionados that had thus far heralded and worshiped him. This was his first ‘Dylan Goes Electric’ moment. Not wanting to be outdone, Young plugged in and powered up, hired a motley crew of meticulous session musicians and hit the road.

Neil, as is clear from the variety splattered through his body of work, does exactly what he wants, when he wants. Not just musically. Personally too – strained relationships with band mates, wives, fans, friends, all too common a theme. Time Fades Away wasn’t a kamikaze dive into hard rock by any means. Young was to become the Godfather of Grunge, but not yet. Jack Nitzsche’s paralysing piano made sure that the Neil from Harvest hadn’t gone anywhere. He was still there, just shrouded in a significantly more weathered coat of emotion. 1972 saw the death of Danny Whitten, long time friend and Crazy Horse bandmate. God like success, significant loss and drunken sleeve wearing of the heart led to the creation of a live masterpiece.

The album opens with its namesake, an instant classic which stands alongside some of Young’s best. Journey Through The Past is a juxtaposition in name and style. It combines the transcendent, wondrous Neil Young wail with a piano piece so often utilised by his fellow Canyonistas. At the start of Yonder Stands the Sinner Neil proclaims, “This will be kind of experimental”.  At the time perhaps revolutionary for an artist such as he. Now however, it all makes sense – the ingredients put to work time and time again throughout his repertoire since. L.A. is another instant classic, followed by the heart breaking Love In Mind. Don’t Be Denied echoes Young’s good natured sparring partners Lynyrd Skynyrd, presenting a similar message to their hit of the same year, Simple Man, as well as CCR’s 1972 hit Someday Never Comes – It’s testament to the manoeuvrability of subject across different strands of the genre.

Time Fades Away continues in the same vain throughout. A mash up of newly discovered rock intensity and fiercely emotive folk. Neil Young would continue to make albums of varying quality, some dreadful even by his own admission. In his view, this may have been one of them. Wrought with wrenching heartbreak, the tour was overshadowed by the loss of Whitten and Young’s reliance on the bottle, so much so that Messrs Crosby and Nash had to step in and help with vocals towards the end. It must be this, not the quality of the output, that causes him to look back less than fondly. Time may fade away, but the enduring brilliance of this live offering never will.

6.  Get yer Ya Ya’s Out – Rolling Stones

Recorded: 1969    Released: 1970

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 “The biggest rock & roll band in the world, The Rolling Stones!” pelts the compere over the tannoy system at Madison Square Gardens. He was right – in 1970 The Rolling Stones were categorically the biggest rock n’ roll band on the God forsaken planet. Just as they are in 2017 and will be in 2027, that is as long as Keef’s deal with the devil don’t run out before then.

There was no worry of that in 1969 mind. The Stones were on top of the world and the only way was up, up, up. The sacking and soon following death of founder (and nutter) Brian Jones proved somewhat horribly to be a bittersweet series of events. Mick Taylor joined the band as they hit the road for their first live tour in two years. They hauled in some heavyweights as support too, in the form of Ike & Tina Turner and B.B. King. It was destined to be a jaunt of career defining proportions.

They jump start the garden with Jumping Jack Flash – Jagger on point and band extraordinarily crisp. Jagger oozes cool – at home on the stage, being adorned and fawned after. “I’ve broken a button on me trousers” he proclaims in his quasi estuary-come-gentry accent. “You don’t want my trousers to fall down do you?” he asks to rapturous applause. Of course they do. He knows it, he loves it, and we love him for it. Carol, Stray Cat Blues and Love in Vain are beyond perfect in their delivery, Robert Johnson’s Love in Vain particularly powerful in its ability to transport you back 45 years to the Garden.

45 years ago. Jesus. If the Stones had stopped then they’d still perhaps have the most enviable catalogue of records in music history. Consider this. Love in Vain wasn’t just perfect. It was new. As was Midnight Rambler, off of the soon to be released Let It Bleed. Imagine hearing Midnight Rambler for the first time at MSG. Imagine it and remind yourself that 2017 is awful. Inconceivable now to think Gimme Shelter and You Can’t Always Get What You Want from the same album didn’t make it on to the touring playlist. Then again, who would’ve known they were going to be huge hits? Everyone, really.

An understated, casual but instantly recognisable intro to Honky Tonk Women is a welcome overture to a powerful, lyrically moderated live offering. Under My Thumb is a killer, underestimated and overwhelming, whilst Satisfaction is unbeatable in its case for best ever close to a live album. There’s a reason Lester Bangs called GYYYO ‘without a doubt the best rock concert put on record’. It is Rolling Stones personified, from hard rocking riffs, to oozing blues and playful prancing. The inclusion of B.B. King and Tina Turner’s pre show is an added bonus (including the superfluous cover of CCR’s Proud Mary), and the cover is Charlie Watts clowning around with a guitar wearing donkey. That’s pretty fucking special.

 

Next week – The Top 5 Live Rock n’ Roll Albums Ever!

The French Inhaler.

 

 

 

The Final Problem Review

PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT THIS BLOG CONTAINS SPOILERS OF SHERLOCK S4E3, THE FINAL PROBLEM.
Guys, because my review of The Lying Detective became ridiculously long the other day, I am reviewing The Final Problem in three installments. Three, you say? Yes, I really do mean three. The first one was about Molly Hooper. The second is this one, a review of the plot and character development of the episode, and the third will focus on TJLC. Don’t know the acronym? Stay tuned.

Much like my reviews of the earlier episodes, this will be a rambling list of things I loved about The Final Problem followed by a list of things I wasn’t wild about.

Things I loved:

Of course Mycroft’s umbrella is a weapon.

This bit:

Mycroft: “This is a private matter.”

Sherlock:” John stays.”

Mycroft: “This is family!”

Sherlock: “That’s why he stays!”

I loved how often they referenced Oscar Wilde. First, by quoting “the truth is rarely pure and never simple,” and later by mentioning that Mycroft played Lady Bracknell in a secondary school performance of The Importance Of Being Earnest. Just a bit of unsolicited advise: if Mofftiss want to convince us the characters on this show are straight, don’t reference Wilde.  Also, maybe try to leave out jokes about cavity searches.

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Unfortunately, this episode featured no scruffy Sherlock whatsoever. The delicious stubble was a thing of the past. However, there was some thick Scottish accent action I really appreciated.

Of course, I was overjoyed to see the return of Moriarty, even if it was only of a temporary nature. I was also quite pleased with the plotline about Euros and Moriarty scheming together to bring Sherlock down, although I was less happy with the way they went about it. So here comes the bit about things I didn’t love: It seems The Final Problem lacked in cleverness, and made up for that lack with unprecedented amounts of cruelty. Basically, about half of the episode was a well-executed sequence of psychological torture, and I think that’s both unpleasant and unnecessary.

 

I was in tears when Mycroft started saying mean things about John in order to make it easier for Sherlock to choose which one of them to shoot. I love the way the relationship between the Holmes brothers has developed over the seasons, from arch-enemies to playing Operation and deducing hats together to self-sacrifice. I also love how the almighty Mycroft was brought down a peg what with his gross miscalculations regarding both Euros and Moriarty.

Yet, there were some obvious plotholes here that were never resolved. Apart from the Molly-situation I addressed in an earlier post, wasn’t John chained to the bottom of a well? If so, how was he pulled out of there with a rope? And isn’t it overly sentimental to explain away psychopathic tendencies by citing childhood loneliness? What child hasn’t known loneliness? Yet most of us haven’t gone all Silence Of The Lambs. Also, wasn’t Sherlock weeks away from dying of a drug overdose in The Lying Detective? Even the superhuman consulting detective can’t have recovered from serious addiction that quickly… And why did they show us a scene between Sherlock and John’s previous therapist Ella if that plotline wasn’t going anywhere? Why did Euros stalk John on the bus? Are John and Rosie living at Baker Street with Sherlock or what? If Moriarty knew about Redbeard all along why did he never use that info to mess with Sherlock while he was alive? I need answers, damn it.

It’s already been over a week since the episode aired, and as you can see I’ve had time to reflect and be critical. Nonetheless I think it’s worth mentioning that I tremendously enjoyed The Final Problem, and no other television show has ever meant as much to me as Sherlock does.

I do need a shock blanket, though.

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Every Soul’s A Sailor – Stephen Fearing

“Every Souls A Sailor Rolling on the Deep / The Tinker and the Tailor, the Beggar and the Thief”

It would be delirious to suggest that Stephen Fearing is the best folk singer ever to hail from Canada. Harder still perhaps, to suggest him the finest from Ireland, where he spent many years as a nipper. It is not at all inflammatory however, to mention his name in the same breath as Messrs Young and Cohen. I imagine they’d be pleasantly incorporating of the comparison. He is in the same sentence as Joni Mitchell, not Justin Bieber. The same as Van Morrison and not Niall Horan. Fearing’s latest offering is the first of his work I have had the pleasure of perusing. It’s a folkish jaunt down memory lane, a charismatic cruise through genre and a wondrous release from the wicked world that is 2017.

The deep, echoing guitars and soul fill that start Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is are reminiscent of a sound that’s hard to place at first.  Then it hits me – Crowded House.  The opening bars immediately say Fall at Your Feet. And when Fearing starts to sing, it becomes Four Seasons in One Day.  The tonal mix, instrumental base and high pitched vocals are a perfect blend. Of course, Fearing’s opening track has a devlish undercurrent never to be heard on a Crowded House track. It’s a pleasant start, but I wonder what I’m in for, unsure if I could cope with nine more of the same.

Red Lights in The Rain smashes those doubts into the stratosphere. It’s a glorious western lullaby. It has the rhythm of The City of New Orleans, with an earthy longing the likes of an Ed Bruce, a Haggard or a Hank procured time and time again. The guitars and the voice bare an uncanny resemblance to Mark Knopfler on this one, the song sounding like it’s just waking up from a deep sleep the whole way through. It’s a perfect segway towards the rest of the album.

Blowhard is keepin’ it country, and what a barnstormer! I don’t wanna live in a blowhard nation / with the king in a tinselly crown Fearing professes as he brings the fight Springsteen style to the establishment. It is thus, and will perhaps remain, the most perfect opening lyric of 2017. I wish someone had sung it a certain inauguration. ‘It’s like a bad tattoo / Now there’s nothing you can do’ he wails, before longing for a stiff drink. I’ll take one of those!

The Things We Did is the stand out. Fearing flummoxes us with another curve ball. Channelling Randy Newman in sound and in nature, he juxtaposes jovial beats with humorously dark lyrics. It’s getting late and the reaper won’t wait / It’s time for me to set my story down. The story of a man who is responsible for the obituary column in the local paper, it gives the listener a quirky perspective on their own sense of mortality.

Gone But Not Forgotten has a touch of the Warren Zevon’s about it, the latest in a smorgasbord of brilliant musicians I’m laying comparison too – but it truly is that diverse. It’s sad Zevon.  The best Zevon. Backing vocals from Rose Cousins add to the heartbreak. The track finishes with a despairing lyric – Gone but not forgotten/ Pass around the wine / Faces we remember from the old days / And the good times.  A perfect summary.

Love The Deal is a cracker. It’s desperation dancing to a different tune. What if you fail? What if you succeed? / You got no control. You got no guarantees. Ain’t that the damn truth. If you love to live the game / Then learn to love the deal. I can’t wait for the Lucinda Williams cover.

Carousel is the second song from the album that I’m sure I heard on a Zevon ‘Best Of’ CD. It’s the storytelling so synonymous with the folk singers and Canyon dwellers of the 70’s. Fearing channels that feeling gloriously into a crooning soft ballad. The lyrics are heartbreakingly funny again. I know it’s hard to see, you keep walking into walls / Queensbury means nothing when you’re in a bar room brawl. That is an exquisite line, one rarely written this decade (Newman’s Putin’s puttin’ his pants on aside). It’s relatable again – at some point we’ve all been in a rut. We’ve all been stuck going round and round. Old Friend / Why do you deny yourself? / Why do you pretend? We’ll get by with a little help from our mates, four blokes from Liverpool once said.

Love Like Water oozes the blues. It combines the funky feel of the old time banjo players with the twentieth century twist of todays blues troubadours. It’s the coldest, coolest, purest rock & roll offering on the album. Elbow. Black Keys. They’d have loved to written this track.

Better Than Good lays the biggest uppercut curveball of the lot. It’s a straight up, classic love track. It feels like one of three things: A chart topper from that peculiar period in the 90’s; The ‘slow jam’ offering of a classic hard rock band or; The Act 1 to Act 2 transition song in the new Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. I’d like to clarify that none of these are negatives! It works well, adds a different spice and further shows off Fearing’s musical range. Lloyd Webber should stop now though, please.

Sick of the Zevon comparisons or room for one more? Fearing rounds off with the albums namesake, Every Soul’s a Sailor. Straight away you feel stranded at sea, those Knopfler guitars slowly waking up again, his voice distant and deep. The winners and the failers / The shepherd and the sheep / Every Souls a Sailor / Rolling on the deep. It feels like Mutineer and not just due to the nautical theme (I was born to rock the boat / Someone will sink but we will float / Grab your coat let’s get out of here), but surely due to the message too.

Fearing possesses an ability to funnel themes through a kaleidoscope of genres and musical styles. He’s clearly a student of his craft, a fan of music – all music! No he’s not Neil Young and no he is not Van Morrison either. But he is Stephen Fearing. And Stephen Fearing is damn good too.

The French Inhaler

 

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Molly Hooper – BAMF

PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT THIS BLOG CONTAINS SPOILERS OF SHERLOCK S4E3, THE FINAL PROBLEM.
Guys, because my review of The Lying Detective became ridiculously long the other day, I am reviewing The Final Problem in three installments. Three, you say? Yes, I really do mean three. The first is this one, and it’s about Molly Hooper. The second will be a review of the plot and character development of the episode, and the third will focus on TJLC. Don’t know the acronym? Stay tuned.

I don’t need to tell y’all that the latest (possibly last) episode of Sherlock caused quite a stir. One of the main reasons for that was the emotionally charged scene where Sherlock has a phone conversation with Molly Hooper.

 

Lots of people were upset because they had  hoped Sherlock was going to confess his love to John, but that’s a matter for a future blog post. Lots of people were upset because they felt, and I agree, that the kind of psychological torture we saw in The Final Problem was too gruesome for Sherlock, and not half as clever as we’ve come to expect of the show. But there are two other problems that seem to be bugging people that I feel the need to address in more detail.

Didn’t Molly have a fiancé in season 3? Hasn’t she moved on from Sherlock?

You’re right, Molly did have a fiancé. This is a major plot hole and frankly it’s just sloppy writing.

Besides that, I agree that it would have been fair to Molly if, over the seven years this show has been running, she’d have gotten over Sherlock. It sad that this scene implies she never did, and I think she deserved a more exciting and fulfilling storyline, because her character could have had so much more depth than just “pining awkward catlady.”

I think the media tends to ridicule the feelings of women and glorify those of men. I don’t hear anyone argue that Snape deserved a less romantically hung-up storyline. A man showing his feelings is seen as manly. A woman showing hers is seen as pathetic. Or, as Louise Brealey, the actress who plays Molly, tweeted:

Loving someone after years is not reductive, retrograde, antifeminist or weak. Fight the patriarchy, not me, and read some fucking Chekhov.

— Louise Brealey (@louisebrealey) January 17, 2017

And then, here’s the second and final (hehe) problem: what is Molly doing walking into 221B in the closing scene like she hasn’t just been humiliated by Sherlock over the phone?

 

It’s remarkable, to say the least. During her phone conversation with Sherlock, Molly is visibly upset. Even Euros, the psychopathic mastermind killer sister, can tell.

Euros:“Look what you did to her. Look what you did to yourself. All those complicated little emotions…”

But then, without any transition or discussion between her and Sherlock, she’s back at Baker Street and happy as a clam. This is definitely an oversight on the part of the writers. However, when Steven Moffat was confronted with this inconsistency in an interview with Entertainment Weekly, that’s when things got ugly, things really got ugly.

If there is something fans seem upset about with this episode it’s that there’s no resolving scene with Molly after that very effective devastating call to her while she’s in the kitchen. Did you consider doing one? Is it fair to leave her that like that? 

Moffat: But that’s not how we leave her. People need to learn to face their televisions, we see her later on–

We see her skipping into the room but–

Moffat: She gets over it! Surely at a certain point you have to figure out that after Sherlock escapes tells her, “I’m really sorry about that, it was a code, I thought your flat was about to blow up.” And she says, “Oh well that’s okay then, you bastard.” And then they go back to normal, that’s what people do. I can’t see why you’d have to play that out. She forgives him, of course, and our newly grown-up Sherlock is more careful with her feelings in the future. In the end of that scene, she’s a bit wounded by it all, but he’s absolutely devastated. He smashes up the coffin, he’s in pieces, he’s more upset than she is, and that’s a huge step in Sherlock’s development. The question is: Did Sherlock survive that scene? She probably had a drink and went and shagged someone, I dunno. Molly was fine. Source.

EXCUSE, YOU, MOFFAT?

This is seriously ridiculous. You want so badly to have an emotionally charged scene that you conveniently forget about Molly’s fiancé. Then, you have two terrific actors do the scene, and the result is emotionally devastating to both characters and audience. And then… you completely discredit your own writing and undercut your credibility by suggesting that it wasn’t such an important scene after all.

What’s more, you excuse your plot hole by accusing viewers of ignorance: “people need to learn to face their televisions,” what does that even mean? One moment you accuse your viewers of overanalyzing and the next we’re being dumb? I’m so done with you right now, Steven. And you know what? So is Louise Brealey.

FTR I disagree with Steven about the impact of the scene on Molly… & that's fine.
He's allowed to feel something.
So am I.
So are you.

— Louise Brealey (@louisebrealey) January 17, 2017

 

Ned Doheny – Ned Doheny

“I’ve been left out in the rain / If it were up to me the sun would shine again”

I owe a lot to Barney Hoskyns. His hit book Hotel California tells the story of the singer / songwriters and cocaine cowboys of the LA Canyons. From Zappa to CSN, The Eagles and back again. It’s a riveting read that lets you ride the rollercoaster that was Canyon rock & roll. His greatest gift, however, was introducing an audience to an artist less known than some of his chart topping, pill popping LA peers. Do not, I beg, confuse fame for respect and talent. Not in this instance at least. Ned Doheny may not have hit the high notes in the hedonistic hierarchy that was 70’s pop culture, but he damn sure hits every single one in this riveting self-titled offering.

The record opens with that acoustic hum so associated with the Canyons at the time. “Fineline / Tell me, where does the money go?” Ned sings sweetly as the overture bursts into an explosion of funk and feels. It’s Steely Dan meets the Allman brothers. Beat by beat Ned bats the chorus out of the park as he transcends into a middle eighth that wouldn’t be remiss on a blues greatest hits album.

We drop down for I Know Sorrow as jazzy tones vie with blues piano for centre stage. “The feeling comes and goes” sighs Ned. You ask the same question, as you try to imagine this musical masterpiece being created. Doheny is a glorious composer and perhaps a better singer. The song takes sorrow literally, before the cataclysmic crescendo that rounds off another world beater.

The start of Trust Me is the antithesis of the playful piano that ends the previous track. The guitar is on par with Taylor. The ivories with Browne. The arrangement with Zevon and the voice with almost anyone. “Is there nothing I can do? Can you here me?” he begs with sustained agitation. Doheny slams the high notes before bringing the show down like an aristocat, the melancholic saxophone whisking you away from 1970s California to 1930s Paris.

On & On packs a punch. It’s angry. Intense. Nostalgic. “I’ve been left out in the rain / if it were up to me the sun would shine again”. A thunderous rock & roll number, acoustically led with electric undertones blasting to life in the chorus. The harmonies are on point and that’s no surprise – Mama Cass is on backing vocals. Nice.

Ned’s in his groove now. We start this as we finished the last. An explosion of eclectic tastes and sounds as Doheny takes us on a journey down to Lashambeux. I Can Dream is up next. Ned plays the pied piper, whisking the listener away from reality, begging us to transcend into a time gone by.

Now, the jewel in the crown. The masterpiece. Books should be written about Postcards From Hollywood.  The jury is out as to whether it was this song or Helen of Troy that launched a thousand ships. It’s folk, jazz, rock, roll, soul, all rolled into a four-minute mesmerising melody. It’s a crime that it never garnered the mainstream respect it deserved. Many of Ned’s peers would have given all they had to conjure up such a work of art. Many of them should have.

Take Me Faraway does exactly that. It takes you to another time. It’s ’73. I’m at a party. It’s Frank Zappa’s house. I’m flying high and the stars above are shining brightly onto the stars below. I’m content, yet sorrowful. At peace but disturbed. “Like shells beside the sea, that stumble in the sand, and sleep where ancient rivers ran”. Yep. I’m all in.

“I wasn’t always on this road / But it seems like I’ve been gone forever”. This encapsulates the mind-set of any lost poet or dreamer, constantly stuck in a rut, on the wrong path from the one where he feels he’s meant to be. “How long did you think this would last?”. Not this long, that’s for sure.

The sorrowful, delightful journey ends exactly where it should. The LA Canyons. “Standfast / Don’t you let them put you down”. It wraps the feeling of the time up into a devastating love song. “Tears have chained you / Maybe Love Can Pull You Through”. Ned gets off his knees as the album makes a final attempt to break free, from the sorrow that encapsulates it, into the light. And it does. And it stays there. Ned leaves us with a smile on our face and a tear in our eye, wondering what dreams and wonders that once were that we left behind.

Read the book. Listen to the album. Never look back.

The French Inhaler.

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Top 10 Albums of 2016

Let’s be honest.  2016 has been as fun as a not so swift kick to the bollocks.  No genre was spared as time took it’s toll on a swathe of glorious rockers and icons.  We lost an Okie from Muskogee, an Eagle, a Starman and a Prince.  Emerson AND Lake.  The world sang a song for Leon Russell whilst the angels crooned Hallelujah as they welcomed Leonard Cohen to the great big gig in the sky.  Earth, Wind and Fire suffered too, whilst the head of a Tribe called Quest checked in with the Big Man.  A special mention too, for the Ace of Spades, who left on his own terms precisely when he wanted around this time last year.

Those lost this year spent hundreds of hours writing thousands of songs which inspired millions of people worldwide.  2016 was a testament to them.  A doth of the cap to those that left. Proof that the their music would live on through the talent old and new that they left behind.  A departing pop legend told us to have faith, and despite the sadness, 2016 certainly provided us with that.

Here are The French Inhaler’s Top 10 Album’s of the Year.  Don’t view it a countdown.  See it as a select group of records that can service a purpose or a feeling at any given time.  Each is equally as impressive in it’s own right.  A ‘favourite’ record is determined there and then, by current mood and outlook.  With that in mind it’s almost impossible to choose, so enjoy all of them!

10.   Cass McCombs – Mangy Love

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The ninth studio offering from the California native.  A harmonious blend of soft rock and psychadelia move you back and forth from the beaches of Santa Monica to the rooftop bars of Venice Beach.  All whilst suitably stoned, of course.  It’s true gift is it lets you drift away and dream with ease.  Stand out tracks include Laughter is the Best Medicine, Opposite House and Bum Bum Bum.

9.  Kendrick Lamar – Untitled Unmastered

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“They say the government mislead the youth”.  As far as 2016 goes, you may never find a more honest lyric.  Important to clarify this isn’t simply a hip hop album.  It’s got funk and soul enthused with winding jazz undertones.  It’s a collection of unreleased, experimental tracks that, for clearly obvious reasons once heard, never made it on to Lamar’s more commercial offerings.  It’s weird. Unusual. And I like it.  Plus, it’s leagues better than fucking Kanye West.  Check out Untitled 02 and Untitled 05.

8. Drive-By Truckers – American Band

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By no means new on the scene.  Their 11th offering in fact, and surely the best.  As the former band of the fantastic Jason Isbell, it is no surprise that they offer up a lyrical powerhouse of an album with mesmerising melodic backdrops.  What it Means addresses the shooting of Trayvon Martin in quintessential Bruce Springsteen fashion with a southern twist, whilst Surrender Under Protest is surely an ode to the works of the great Neil Young.  I look forward to exploring the back catalogue profusely.

7. Rolling Stones – Blue & Lonesome

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It’s everything you’d expect and more from the rock & roll titans.  A fantastic, rip roaring 45 minutes of blues covers, made famous by legends such as Howlin’ Wolf and Memphis Slim.  This is the Stones going back to their roots, the reason they got into the game in the first place.  It is number one with a bullet.  Oh, and Eric Clapton plays slide guitar. Ridiculous.  Try Hate To See You Go and  Commit A Crime for starters.  Actually. Fuck it. Listen to it all. Right now.

6. Mudcrutch – 2

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Tom Petty returns with his first band, an ecstatic mash up of Heartbreakers and high school friends. It is Petty at his simplest. He oozes cool like nobody else in the business and with such ease.  As with the previous Mudcrutch offering, there is a strong country undertone which reflects the Gainesville Gangs upbringing perfectly.  All in all it just sounds like friends jamming and having fun. They just happen to be really fucking good at it.  Check out Trailer, I Forgive It All and Beautiful World, the latter not featuring Tom on lead vocals.

5. William Tyler – Modern Country

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A gorgeous album without a lyric in sight.  William Tyler is a modern day Ry Cooder and he captures the mood of the South beautifully here.  It’s a sweet pleasure too that, in a year when we lose a lyrical legend such as Leonard Cohen, a great album appears that doesn’t require any words at all.  Stand outs include Highway Anxiety and the Cooder-esque Kingdom of Jones.  Lie back and enjoy.

4. Sturgill Simpson – A Sailor’s Guide To Earth

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If Shooter Jennings and Lisa Marie Presley had a baby,  Sturgill Simpson would be the incredibly satisfying result.  His voice would not be out of place as part of The Highwaymen or on stage in the 70’s Vegas scene.  It truly is a stand out effort.  Merle Haggard would be proud.  Check out All Around You, Welcome To Earth and the absolutely mind blowing cover of Nirvana’s In Bloom.

3. Chris Robinson Brotherhood – If You Lived Here, You Would Be Home By Now

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Time for a trip down memory lane to the 70’s baby.  Chris Robinson is better known as lead singer of The Black Crowes.  With his Brotherhood, he has propelled that southern rock vibe into a funky psychedelic feel that wouldn’t be out of place at an LA Canyons party round Mama Cass’ house.  This is the follow up to 2012’s Big Ritual, which I also implore you to listen to, and things have only got better.  It is five ‘blow me down’ tracks of hippy heroism.  It’s perfect for fans of… well, fans of anyone really.  Check out the Dylanish Shadow Cosmos, The CSN-esque Roan County Banjo and From The North Garden, the musical embodiment of transcendental meditation.

2. Hamilton Leithauser + Rotsam – I Had A Dream That You Were Mine

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The French Inhaler Reviews Hamilton Leithauser!

I reviewed this offering a few weeks back and I have only grown more fond of it since.  I always feel the sign of a good record is one where your favourite track changes periodically.  I’m on about my fifth now.  It is a fantastic rock & roll record with a precise pop infusion that propels it to the next level.  The Brides Dad stands out currently, a beautiful ballad which manifests and grows until it hits its peak and explodes.  It’s littered with potential hits from start to finish.  If this was a third or fourth offering and not a debut, it would have been teetering near the top of the charts.  Check out Sick as a Dog, In a Black Out and Peaceful Morning to get you started.

1. Kacy & Clayton – Strange Country

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Kacy Anderson is 19 years old.  Her cousin Clayton is 21.  This, is their third album. How apt that they hail from the Canadian outback because this is Joni Mitchell incarnate. It’s not just Mitchell. It’s King. It’s Rickie Lee Jones {Rickie Lee Jones – Rickie Lee Jones}.  There’s no pomp and circumstance.  It’s a guy with a guitar and a girl with one hell of a voice.  It’s a tragic, bittersweet glimpse into a musical past which threatens to be forgotten.  Because Everything I’m Doing Has Already Been Done / By The Time I Find My Purpose I will Have Burned Out The Sun.  It symbolises the urgent plight to break free from small town tyranny and make something of it all.  I have no doubt that Kacy & Clayton will do exactly that.  Stand outs include Strange Country, If You Ask How I’m Keeping and Brunswick Stew.

Special Mentions

David Bowie – Blackstar

Leonard Cohen – You Want It Darker

Graham Nash – This Path Tonight

Brandy Clark – Big Day In A Small Town

Dawes – We’re All Gonna Die

Happy New Year. Here’s to hoping the Grim Reaper gives us a fucking break in 2017.

The French Inhaler

I Had A Dream That You Were Mine – Hamilton Leithauser + Rostam

Year: 2016

Label: Glassnote Records

“Many friends have said goodbye/ Paraded out in one proud line/ I say they’ve all just lost their minds”

Fast forward to 2016 and the world is deluged by a barrage of mediocre music. Gems are there to be unearthed, of course, but a swift kick in the groin is preferable to listening to the mid week ‘Top 10’.  Mediocrity has manifest matter of factly, so to speak, and it is us as consumers who must shoulder the blame.  We want the next big thing right here, right now. Fuck the album.  Give me a catchy beat, one line on repeat and we’re good to go. With that kind of demonic demand, creativity finds itself crushed under the weight of corporate cashflow models.

You don’t have to go back that far to register the change in attitude. A decade ago, The Arctic Monkeys exploded onto the British music scene. It wasn’t until ‘AM’ some five albums and ten years later that commercial success in the US started to rear it’s gigantically rewarding head. God forbid a band formed in 2016 doesn’t hit Number 1 in 50 countries at the first time of trying.  The stooges at EMI would have to go without their new Ferrari’s for a couple of months! So fuck it, don’t let the artist wander on a journey of musical discovery and eventually create a masterpiece. Let him blow his beans on his first single, make a quick buck, then blow his once creative brains out.

Let’s put the above into perspective. There was wades of shit in every decade, not just this one. It just seems to have become… ‘magnified’.  A detrimental misfortune of the digital age. Pop has popped its clogs. Rock is stuck between a hard place. Hip Hop just ain’t hip no more.  So today, with musical nouse hanging on a precipice, we need modern day magical minds more than ever.

The debut offering from Hamilton Leithauser + Rostam gives us a glimpse of exactly that. A smorgasbord of styles, the New York based pair propel the album in a different direction with each track. A 1,000 Times is a typical East coast alternative opening.  Rostam, formerly of Vampire Weekend fame, is evidently at work here. It is American pop music as it should be. Melodic, at times aggressive, always listenable. Sick As A Dog is up next. The introductory piano and guitar wouldn’t be misplaced on a Rolling Stones record, before taking a turn for the peculiar with a track The Pixies would be proud of.

Rough Going (I Don’t Let Up) mixes bar room banter with 50’s doo-wop. It’s a beautiful blend that will sure be a touring hit – a brilliant way to bow out of a barnstorming set. In A Black Out is steeped in romantic desperation. In a week where Bob Dylan won the nobel prize for literature, it would be remiss not to mention some glaring similarities. (Having said that, you could probably find Dylan in anything from Gershwin to Greenday).  It’s wonderfully crafted and understated.  Apple used the track for their iPhone 7 advertising campaign, so they must think it ain’t half bad too. Peaceful Morning shows strides of Nashville Skyline Dylan also. Leithauser + Rostam take a Libertines type turn and produce a tender soliloquy, before letting the banjos play us out.

When The Truth Is welcomes us with whining blues guitar and explodes a minute in into a short lived saxophone funk fest. And repeat. It’s a gripping clash and a worthwhile bet to take. You Ain’t That Young Kid kicks off with classic folk harmonica and stampedes ahead with Lou Reed inspired vocals. You don’t get much more New York than that. The Brides Dad and Morning Stars feels like Mumford & Sons done right, whilst 1959 rounds the album off with an orchestral, angelic finish.

You can moan about modern music until the cows come home, but this pair prove the creativity and ability needed to craft a blissful album is still there.  I guess it’s just a case of, amongst YouTube have a go’ers and Instagram singers, X Factor no hopers and corporate money slingers, having to dig a little deeper to find the diamonds.

The French Inhaler