MATT POND PA, The Dark Leaves

Matt Pond PA, may have stayed too long in the woods. Their earthy landscape of harvest moons and shadowy creeks harboring folk-goth songs of sorrow and lust has sustained them through nine albums. Their newest, THE DARK LEAVES doesn't depart from the cello driven forested parlor music they are identified with or singer, lyricist, and only constant band member Matt Pond's woeful meanderings in which his sad and weary view often struck a gentle nerve of alienation and heartache, ("The Hollows" from the MEASURE album is exciting and mournful). In THE DARK LEAVES the cloying lyrics, ("how it kills me, oh love kills me") and same old sound, like chamber music led by a pop star, finally sounds only dreary.

Given the band's narrow scope the songs here are quite diverse. "Remains" features a mesmerizing electric keyboard against a marching gospel-like ballad, "Winter Fawn" sounds like Roger Waters' "Grandchester Meadows" as a wind-up squeaky toy, and "Specks" has a go-tell-it-on-the-mountain fiddle with a echoed Springsteen yelp. But the stuff is getting maddeningly tiresome due to Pond's increasingly metaphoric lyrics set mostly against a moonlit country creek in which we waded, we swam, we frolicked, and now we want to get the hell out of these woods. New ground needed to be unearthed and we don't even go deeper into the hollow as the album flickers with interest via warm musical passages but extinguishes itself in a monotonous vibe.

The album may pass the mental hum test as parts of it gently breeze through my mind hours after hearing it, but still it's got no bite, no stinging refrain, too much salt in the wound and not enough tongue. It's lovely, just not lovely enough. Even the title of the album, The Dark Leaves, the dark departs, like there's got to be a morning after, leaves the most unimaginative of thoughts. I liked Matt Pond PA so much more when I thought they were a place, and not a person in Pennsylvania.

MOVIE: The Ghost Writer

Kim Cattrall and Ewan McGregor in Polanski's THE GHOST WRITER

Roman Polanski's new film, THE GHOST WRITER is a suspeseful if conventional espionage thriller along the paranoid lines of such 1970s cinema as ALL THE PRESIDENT'S MEN and THE PARALLAX VIEW in which American institutions like the CIA and the Secret Service are seen as nothing short of the scariest movie monster since Godzilla.

Written by Polanski and Robert Harris from his novel, the film tells the intriguing story of a Tony Blair-inspired retired British Prime Minister, Adam Lang (Pierce Brosnan), who hires a ghost writer, (Ewan McGregor) to finish rewriting his memoirs after the previous ghost writer he hired dies unexpectedly and maybe mysteriously before the manuscript is completed. As the nameless ghost writer moves into the Martha's Island winter retreat where the former Prime Minister is holed up while finishing his book, there is a public outcry and accusation that the former British politician is responsible for the kidnapping of terror suspects and their subsequent torture by the CIA.

As in his previous works like ROSEMARY'S BABY, THE TENANT, and BITTER MOON, Polanski is a craftsman at building suspense based not on cinematography but on a screenplay. This taut topical thriller is standard storytelling yet the audience finds itself ingrained in the plot and anxious for the next development which offers profound conviction and subtle, ever growing suspense as thrilling as a protagonist dangling from the precipice of a cliff. While it doesn't empower the viewer as those 1970s films that proved engrossing enough to contribute to the removal of a U.S. President, it does leave us asking, just short of hopelessly, if we are indeed enslaved to the global powers that be.

The casting of several unlikely actors in key roles gives the film an eerie recognition as if Polanski is familiarizing us with headlines from our own times. Kim Cattrall, Samantha on TV's SEX AND THE CITY, is smashing and indeed an actress as Lang's right hand woman. Jim Belushi - yes, the sitcom star - is momentarily unrecognizable as a completely bald publishing boss, and the eternally young Timothy Hutton is a mild-mannered, possibly sinister lawyer. Aged character actor Eli Wallach is gritty and colorful, but seen too briefly as a local oddball possessing a link to the mystery.

THE GHOST WRITER is not the grand motion picture Polanski's THE PIANIST was, but it is entertaining and thoughtful and drawn from the hand of a director who at 76 years old can still spellbind his audience.

in reference to: Movie Review: The Ghost Writer (2010) - Blogcritics Video (view on Google Sidewiki)

THEATRE REVIEW, Macbeth, The New Phoenix

One of the three withches in New Phoenix Theatre on the Park's production of MACBETH forcefully and accidentally rammed into my leg as she squirmed and gesticulated at the feet of the audience while prophesying the splendor and doom of the would-be-king Macbeth. The witch, played by a male actor hunching like a manic cat, clucking like a bewitched hen, crouching so close to me I could have used her as a footstool, looked up at me and hissed after clobbering my shin with her full body weight. I managed a polite smile. Later when a sword was slammed to the ground after a valiant bit of swashbuckling, it did a sort of bounce on its handle and landed with a crash just inches from another audience member. Thse poor players were eager to convey the murderous rage of power-hungry Macbeth and I suppose we were fortunate enough to leave the theatre fairly uninjured.

The production's minimalist set design - a chair here, a lantern there - the spare costumes in goth black with red drape signifying royalty, and the intimate but small stage space demanded a strong verbal resonance from the actors which they delivered like the hushed secrecy of a candlelight storytelling. The stage was set, indeed emptied for something wicked coming as the players routinely and creatively performed this darkest drama with as much enthusiastic spirit as children playing from a costume trunk in a spooky attic.

The pervertedly devoted Macbeth and Lady Macbeth (Brian Riggs and Kate LoConti), plotting to inherit the royal crown of Scotland through murderous deeds, played off one another brilliantly displaying a hateful dance of rage and lust, confronting and comforting each other like caged injured animals while violently kissing and coiling thier clamped embraced bodies together in what seemed less a display of heated emotion than of erotic asphyxiation. The acrobatic tumbling witches (watch out for that body slam) looked at times to be playing a wildly complex game of Twister and successfully created a goofy sort of mysticism meets yoga. The swordplay was exceptional and offered relief in the form of exciting choreographed movement when interrupting the increasingly intense tragedy.

Occasionally the players lost themselves in the deep anguish of their speeches, and words became whimpers, shrieks and squeals. Macbeth particularly, with his back turned and far into the depths of his tormented psyche, was often indiscernible. Yet his broken physical stance spoke measures.

Seating on all four sides of the stage left a glaring red light directly in my sight path forcing me to cup my hand over my eyes to see the action on stage before it landed in my lap. A lighting design error maybe, but the suspense of the story heightened with the emergence of a player silhouetted against a blazing sunset. Hence, horrible shadow! The nine-member cast accomodated the 30-plus characters in the play with efficient and casual costume alteration: acquiring a limp, throwing on a hat, affixing a pair of glasses, sometimes in mid-scene, creating a bit of a Mad Hatter identity crisis. This too only added to the charm of this hands-on, grassroots, and devoted production.

Directed by Kelli Bocock-Natale, this fine dose of Shakespeare plays at the New Phoenix on the Park in Buffalo, New York on Thursday, Fridays and Saturdays at 8PM through April 10. Thursday night performances are pay-what-you-can.

in reference to: http://blogcritics.org/culture/article/theater-review-buffalo-ny-macbeth-at/page-2/ (view on Google Sidewiki)

TRAFFIC, TOY MATINEE, THE TOYS

I have Traffic's "John Barleycorn Must Die" on CD, and a vinyl record copy of "The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys", possibly the worst rock and roll album title ever. Both offer a blues based meets prog platform and a rich, laid back listening experience. I'm also listening to ToyMatinee's one and only album on CD from 1990, a rather bland bit of rock made interesting by some quirky sonic touches, (the sudden clarinet carnival at the closing of "Turn It Up Salvadore"). Lyricist, singer Kevin Gilbert died in 1996 while indulging in autoerotic asphyxiation, the sexual arousal of suffocation. Dude, thanks for the stylish exit. Also, The Toys 45rpm, "A Lover's Concerto", from 1965 may be the first time classical music made it into the popular hits charts. Based on Bach's "Minuet in G Major", which is now believed to be not written by Bach at all but by Christian Petzold, (oh, who gives a living crap) the record is a beautiful slice of perfect melody by the first in a long line of emerging black girl groups. I've misplaced the damn record in my cluttered office space excuse for an apartment or I'd offer a pic of it. Decca? Needless to say those opening Motown-like brass bars leading into that lovely girl singer, -"how gentle is the rain? -" takes me back to the first times I realized I loved radio. If I feel like coughing up the pocket change, maybe you can hear it here. Or better yet, there, at the widget at the top of this blog.

I'm experimenting with web browsers and I'm about to slam my head into a wall out of frustration.

The Toys

Today is Good Friday, that's a good paid day off. Thank you Jesus. The grandest prank ever played on mankind, not! not! that is NOT awesome! Awesome is what the kids at Fatima said - ( I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Oh frickin' persecute me why don't you!) forgive me, I possess the finest of Christian traits, when I die he's going to walk up to me and say, "Good job, man!",.... my faith has been shaken, sucks sausages in hell- i don't know why i said that. I love you, another champale my brow beaten friend? No, i haven't seen john and yes, it looks like rain. I did a play. Langston Hughe's HARVEST at Subversive Theatre. An actor walked out two weeks before opening and I got a call to fill in. That's what I like. No pressure, no 6 week rehearsal schedule. Here I come to save the day. My mediocrity is improving

And I'm writing for Blogcritics.com. Oh, to be an online published writer. That has been my goal in life.

I was wondering what to do with my 3- day weekend, and I'm tired of diligence. I'm tired of grocery shopping, and frickin' laundry and paying bills, and coffee in the morning and a snack at night, of hellos and goodbyes, of calls and TV. I woke up musing that I'd like to see that new Polanski film, maybe go shopping, Barnes and Noble Christmas gift card may be expiring, and then I realized what I really want to do this weekend is get blitzed and hang around home dusting cobwebs or something. Venture out into the yard and look odd for the neighbors boredom. Party out, the ceiling's the limit! If you find me wandering around Dunkirk, point me to my home.

THE TOM TOM CLUB, TONE CASUALTIES, TOMMY

Tina Weymouth

A girl singer with a very limited vocal range singing minimal exotica pop that you can dance to. And for those who don't want to dance there's a candy dish of drugs nearby. The Tom Tom Club is Talking Heads alumni, and married couple, Tina Weymouth (bass) and Chris Frantz (drums). They formed The Tom Tom Club as a side project to Talking Heads in 1980. CLOSE TO THE BONE (Sire 123-), from 1983 is their second album. Chris Frantz's trippy percussive outbreaks come when they're needed most and Tina Weymouth, well god love her, but she's like your twelve year old niece putting on a show for the family. Their sunny day martini LSD weekend is what the me-want-drugs decade was all about. "The Man With The Four Way Hips" leaves the letter D for disco scorched on your forehead. "Pleasure of Love" is all peace daisies and keen observation - I met him one day at the park / I was scared because it was after dark, and he wore bad street clothes. - and "Bamboo Town" is your standard 'rock stars in the back of a cab' detour. You can hear Bamboo Town and especially The Man With The Four Way Hips here.

Speaking of druggie music, TONE CASUALTIES , Music For The Next Generation, (1998) was a free label sampler from Tone Casualties when I ordered a record from them. It's glossy and dark tech stuff from artists around the globe. All the tracks are spacey with particular mind bending attention given to Madam Crain & Wahorn's "Panties On Fire", a late night sex confessional in which Madam asserts "it's very, very zen to be with one thousand men"; it can be heard via the widget at the top of this post, Holger Czukay vs. Doctor Walker's "Backup Dream" finds the former leader of revered kraut rock band, "Can", experimenting with spooky tech and noise, and Blue and Holding's "Sleep", is a cool blend of electronica blues and Peter Gabriel mysticism from the album, "Hell".



The original cast recording of The Who's Tommy is here. I can't take it for Peter Townsend's original rock opera. Everybody sounds like they should be wearing a Vikings war helmet with animal horns. Finale "Listening To You" is climactic but a kazoo would do it justice, even The New Seekers' livened up their lives with a decent rendition of it. I've tried to warm up to this CD, but it only makes me long for the original album.

TITANIC, THE TIMBRE PROJECT, TIN TIN

It wasn't long ago I couldn't fathom enjoying an original Broadway cast recording. Aside from rock musicals like "Jesus Christ Superstar", "Hair", and even "Godspell", songs from Broadway were too simple, disposable and brassy, like an ingrained patriotic anthem you can recite as perfectly as your zip code. Video recordings of Stephen Sondheim's work changed all that, when I found great depth in the musical compositions of his Broadway hits; "Sweeney Todd - The Demon Barber of Fleet Street", "Sunday In The Park With George", and "Into The Woods". Now I savor Broadway cast recordings; a staple in thrift store record bins, and while much of it still sounds like the dreary and hokey soundtrack from last year's Ice Capades, (My Fair Lady), just as often certain shows become my favorite music. Such is the case with the Broadway cast recording of TITANIC, A NEW MUSICAL (RCA Victor). I was considering auditioning for a role in a local production of TITANIC so I bought the Broadway cast recording, and while I never did go on the audition, I've eaten the CD countless times. I remember the first time I played it - ugh!, - too 'in your face' with sentiment and laughs, too familiar, too obvious, too bloated, and too damn joyful. But I put the CD on for another spin, and then another, and another, and before long I was joining the finale chorus as a chartered member on board. To sit down and listen to the entire work became as satisfying as a great book, satisfying on two levels - to envision the dynamics of the Broadway stage and to experience the life of the Titanic as opposed to its death. The music gloriously and tragically reveals the historic incident with a broad range of the social, spiritual and psychological forces that came together on that faithful voyage. It hints at reasons for our obsession with a tragic incident that while certainly a footnote in history, is undeserving of its beloved celebratory status. Composer Maury Yeston borrows heavily from the baroque-like orchestrations familiar to music listeners in 1912, the year of the plunge, giving the piece a timely authenticity as the orchestra waves roll, the confident ship streams foreword, and in operatic verse the story is told. Moments of intense emotion; hear the fear and anger that rivals the iceberg in "The Blame"; the captains final chilling note as the ship engulfs him in "To Be A Captain (reprise)"; ship designer Thomas Andrews heart wrenching plea for salvation in "Mr. Andrews' Vision", plus more traditional show-stoppers and comedy. An actual artifact, a piece of music found among the treasures of the 1994 salvaging of The Titanic, and previously unknown to music historians, "Autumn", is a featured song and serves as a constant musical theme. I remember hearing of this show when it first played Broadway in 1997 and picturing a horrific musical comedy with a bad oceanic set design and singing people garbling as they drown, like community theatre gone berserk. Its tryouts in New York, (no out of town tryouts due to the elaborate technical production), were fairly horrific with the ship refusing to sink when it was supposed to. Reviews were generally negative, and it seemed the show was as sunk as its namesake. In walk fans like Rosie O'Donnell who featured the cast on her show, championing the musical in a high stakes word-of-mouth campaign ($?). The show became a success on Broadway, winning the Tony award for Best Musical, but never made a profit for its producers. It's a great blast of music which defines the Titanic on a musical scale and wears its Broadway rust proudly. Here is the Rosie O'Donnel clip with the cast singing a truncated version of the opening scene. And we'll be right back with Kelly McGillis.

I picked up a slew of unfamiliar indie rock titles somewhere and it included THE TIMBRE PROJECT's "Ruining Perfectly Good Songs" (Ice Cream Headache Records), Jaime d'almeida's one man, multi instrumentalist band which employs guest musicians from the Boston area. It's a breezy bit of indie rock in the songwriter vein, often coming a little too close to sounding a lot like Marcy Playground. Opening track, "Everything's Graded" is my favorite, a jangly bit of pop with a cool distorted guitar weaving in and out like the sound waves of a shaking aluminum saw.

Tin Tin is Steve Grows (guitar) and Steve Kipner (keyboards), a band produced by Maurice Gibbs of The Bee Gees, who released two albums in their short career between 1969 - 1973. Both albums tanked and in 1971 their record company half-heartedly released "Toast and Marmalade For Tea" off their first album, expecting it to fail as did previous singles. It became an unexpected hit record, and their only success. It's a ridiculous pop song with repetitious lyrics set to an off-center, off-speed eastern orient-like guitar rising to an elaborate repetition of form. It may be the worst record you ever heard. I spent a modest chunk of my childhood weekly allowance on it. Here, miraculously is a vintage video of it.

THUNDERCLAP NEWMAN, THE THOMPSON TWINS, TILL TUESDAY

How's this for a rock and roll fantasy? Imagine being the chauffeur for The Who in the late 1960s. You get to know Peter, Roger and the gang on an intimate level and eventually hand Peter Townsend the songs you have written. You want to be a rock star. He gets back to you and agrees to produce your first album and play bass on your first single. Such is the story of Thunderclap Newman, a vehicle created by Townsend to produce the songs of his former chauffeur and Who-roadie, John 'Speedy' Keen. Along with Keen on vocals and percussion, Townsend enlisted the aid of Dixieland pianist Andy 'Thunderclap' Newman and 15 year old Glasgowian guitarist Jimmy McCulloch to create the recording band. Their first single, "Something In The Air", (originally titled "Revolution", but retitled when a certain other British band released a single under the same name), with Townsend on bass under the pseudonym Bijou Drains, was a number one hit in England and rose to number 37 on the American charts. The song, an apocalyptic lofty ballad with full orchestra enticing a memorable guitar riff has earned itself a respectable reputation, having been featured in several recent movies and TV shows including "Kingpin", "Almost Famous", and "My Name Is Earl". The subsequent album, the Peter Townsend produced "Hollywood Dream", (1969) their one and only album, was also successful in Britain and developed a cult following in The States. I was introduced to THUNDERCLAP NEWMAN on a cool Autumn night when I was about 13 years old. I took a walk around the neighborhood to see what was shaking and ran into some older guys under a street light talking about music. They were buzzing about Thunderclap Newman and apparently listening to their debut, "Hollywood Dream" in stereo headphones was nothing short of nirvana. I was invited in to one of their homes to sample the album in headphones, and I soon understood their excitement. The music took me immediately. Particularly there was a harmonica piece that crackled brilliantly through headphones as if opening a psychedelic portal in my adolescent brain. For this 13 year old this was some heavy adult stereo shit. Who can explain what happens to what is essentially a one-hit-wonder band? A second single, "Accidents" from "Hollywood Dream" , culled from it's 9 minutes and 40 seconds album length, reached number 46 in England but didn't chart at all in the States, and two more singles made no noise whatsoever. The band broke up in 1971. Keen and Newman each made solo albums, and Keen produced Motorhead's first album. He died in 2002 apparently of complications from arthritis. McCulloch played with Paul McCartney and Wings and died from a heroin overdose at age 26 in 1979. Newman has recently resurrected the band under the title, The Thunderclap Newman Band and has performed some gigs in England.

The original American album cover of Hollywood Dream

Somewhere behind me is a trail of lost and forgotten records where you can find a copy of the American edition of "Hollywood Dream". It's cover, a life-sized cardboard picture of a man (Keen) propped up against the Hollywood Hills, is different than the pic on the British album whose cover now graces the CD. I'm pretty happy with the CD, (1991 PolyGram). It contains the entire album plus alternate versions and a few unreleased songs. Heavily influenced by The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper, the nearly 10 minute long "Accidents" cues all things British by Beatles' standards (think a crime ridden Penny Lane) along with jazz piano, guitar solo, harmonica and kazoo interrupted by a steady stream of screeching tires, sirens, and general shattering of glass, leading up to a psychedelia a la "A Day In The Life". There's a sweet post-hippie naivety to "The Reason", a song as pleasant and dreamy as "Something In The Air", and the name has changed but the sentiment is the same in a cover of Dylan's "Open The Door, Homer", which becomes open the door, Richard expressing the point of view of a chauffeur turned rock star. "Look Around" is a 3 minute McCoys like jangle made melodic by an addictive electric piano refrain, and "Stormy Petrel", offers a kazoo solo which, in it's simplicity reaches an uproarious comedic height.

So Jim Stone and Kevin Childs, if you happen across my blog some day - dig this, - I AM STILL LISTENING TO THUNDERCLAP NEWMAN! You can hear and see the band mock playing "Something In The Air" here in a vintage video, and the complete "Accidents" can be heard here.

The Thompson Twins have said they were living as squatters in an abandoned building in London before becoming a 1980s pop sensation. The Twins, - Tom Bailey, Alannah Currie, and Joe Leeway, not related and certainly not twins, were trimmed to a trio after Bailey, (keyboards, vocals) experimented with several other TT lineups for their first two albums. 1983's "Side Kicks", titled "Quick Step and Side Kick" in England, became a major success in England and a minor one in the U.S. The followup album, 1984's "Into The Gap", became hugely successful on a global scale due greatly to the phenomenal sales of the single, "Hold Me Now". Leeway left the group after the next album, 1985's "Here's To Future Days", leaving The Thompson Twins a duo. Bailey suffered a nervous breakdown during the making of "Here's To Future Days", which proved to be only a moderate success. Bailey and Currie were married in 1989 after publicly revealing their relationship after the birth of their first child the previous year. They had a second child and were divorced in 2003. Sales of subsequent Thompson Twins albums declined sharply in the late 80s and the band disbanded in 1993. Bailey still works in the music business as producer and songwriter. The reason The Thompson Twins are in my collection is their constant appearance in thrift store record bins. At 49 cents a copy how can I resist near-mint copies of a promotion only "Side Kicks", (Arista 6607), and "Into The Gap", (Arista 8-8200). I also have the "Hold Me Now" single, (AS1-9164).



"Side Kicks" introduced The Thompson Twins buoyant new-wave pop to most American audiences although a previous album received little airplay. "Love On You Side" is an infectious new-wave anthem, and "Watching" is truly bizarre with a mock operatic vocal track provided by Grace Jones. "Into The Gap", offers the singles, "Hold Me Now", still as crisp and catchy today as it was in 1984, "Doctor, Doctor", a more desperate love song, "You Take Me Up", a chain gang meets pop meets gospel singalong, and the title track where The Thompson Twins in all their niceness attempt a global political message with middle east musical scenery. The "Hold Me Now" single has an experimental instrumental B-side called "Let Loving Start". Here's the video for "Doctor Doctor".

Another band from the 1980s, TILL TUESDAY made a new-wave glitzy splash with a hit single off their first album. "Voices Carry", an emotionally charged ballad that builds to a canopy of swirling vocals and hook laden orchestration is TILL TUESDAY'S signature song, but it is "Coming Up Close" off their second album; a piano tinged, countrified lament that name drops Bob Dylan that I had to hear again and again. While critics buzzed about singer Aimee Mann's strong songwriting skills, that second album, "Welcome Home", suffers from being a too ordinary example of lightly feathered, heavily produced 80s pop songs. A third critically celebrated album was the swansong for the group and Mann has gone on to a successful solo career in the indie rock vein. I own Till Tuesday's "Welcome Home" CD ((Epic) and the "Voices Carry" single. Here is "Coming Up Close" mock sung by the group in a mock concert. Aimee Mann looks stunning.