02.12.12 – Pop Lifer’s Award Advent Calendar: The sitcom-in-waiting which is finally among us

Welcome to Day 2 of Pop Lifer’s advent calendar format. There is no indecipherable chunk of cheap chocolate behind these links – just 24 definitive moments that have grabbed our attention across pop culture in 2012. Yesterday, we awarded the Lady GaGa Award for Turning The Pop Video Into Glorious Art to Lana Del Rey’s magnificent “National Anthem”.

Today we turn to British sitcoms, a once endangered species which thankfully has, like the Blue Whale, been saved from extinction. Our second  Advent Calendar Award  “The In-betweeners  Award for a sitcom you can’t quite believe hasn’t been made before” goes to one very fine sitcom partially responsible for a restoration that has required no intervention from Sir David Attenborough….

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So this is Christmas… (and time to open up your first advent calendar surprise: 2012’s best pop video)

“So this is Christmas

And what have you done?

Another year over,

And a new one just begun.”

Happy Xmas (War Is Over), John and Yoko and the Plastic Ono Band

Let’s leave aside the addled chronology in this lyric, Lennon’s sloppy blurring of Christmas and New Year 0ffering yet more proof of why drugs are bad, mmmkay.  It is indeed December 1st, marking the beginning of the end of 2012 and offering an opportunity to consider what the year has meant.

For some that will mean reflecting on a year in which the promise of the Arab Spring began to sour, with increased despotism in Egypt and other key countries in the region. Others will look to Obama’s re-election, and wonder whether all of his eloquence can indeed unify the world’s only superpower, which still looks hopelessly socially divided. Others will examine events closer to home, perhaps worrying that the ongoing inertia of the economy coupled with further brutal cuts to welfare can only create an ever widening gulf between the rich and the poor of the UK.

Not Pop Lifer, though! We’ll be turning our minds to the really important questions.  What TV shows have done more than merely anaesthetise us while the world slips one stage closer to apocalypse? What cultural events have briefly made the human race feel like it’s one worth running? And what the hell is going on with pop music, which seems to be in its most enfeebled state in decades? Think we’re exaggerating on this last point? Then take a look at the below, a much anticipated duet by two of the most successful stars of our day:

“The sound of pop music writhing around in its own shit,” as popjustice summarise, with understatement.

But here at Pop Lifer we are a cynicism-free zone, committed to celebrating the positive impact pop culture has on our lives. Yes, pop has often tried to foil our plans (we’re still scarred by the car crash that was the Olympics closing ceremony, a celebration of 60 years of British pop that seemed to distill all of its eccentric glory into Liam Gallagher looking grumpy, Russell Brand gurning through The Beatles and the fucking Kaiser Chiefs) but we are undeterred.

That’s why, over the next 24 days we’ll be using the advent calendar format – handed down to the world, lest we forget, by Jesus himself – to offer up 24 sweet awards celebrating the best things that have happened in pop culture. First up, the Lady GaGa Award for Turning The Pop Video Into Glorious Art.

And if you open the fiddly little window you’ll find… Continue reading

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Ferris, Withnail and two very different days off

The Bromance might be a recent – and hideous – term but it’s been with us long before Matt Damon and Ben Affleck launched their love upon the world in “Good Will Hunting” or Judd Apatow began forging a career out of the awkward warmth of male heterosexual bonding. Think back to “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”, Jesus and his Disciples and Achilleus and Patroclus and you’ll see the flowering of bromance through the ages.

But now, in keeping with our current love of all things 1987 (see previous posts on that year’s Smiths’ swansong “Strangeways Here We Come” or Eurythmics’ “Savage”) we’d like to take a look at two very different bromances from the same year: 1987’s “Withnail and I” and “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”. They also happen to be two of our favourite films of all time. But which do we love best? Clearly the only contrived device worthy of such a challenge is the ancient martial art of Top Trumps, so here’s our Ferris v Withnail face off.

The best and worst of friends. Cameron, Ferris, ‘I’ &Withnail. (courtesy of Paramount Pictures and Handmade Films)

Category 1: The rite of passage

Both Ferris and Withnail are conducted on the hoof; freewheeling from binge or prank without need of any discernible plot, just a need to establish a mood which is built to great effect in both. What drives the film is the ‘rite of passage’. The learning bit.

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Eric Cantona – the man who turned Gazza’s tears into gold (Picture This #26)

Cantona signs for Manchester United 20 years ago today (courtesy of Manchester United FC and the Republic of Mancunia)

Two significant things happened at Italia 90 that would change English, and – arguably – world football into the cultural monolith that it has become today.

The first was that it was boring. 0-0 draws clogged the world’s wall charts as a functional Germany claimed the title and a petty, cynical Argentina reached the final. The Italian hosts defeated themselves in the semi, reverting to defensive type after impressing us all with some Baggio inspired bursts en route. It was the other defeated semi-finalist, England, that provided the second significant catalyst for change – Gazza.

Football was at a crossroads. Was it a vehicle for victory or entertainment? It had provided a shallow victory and no depth of entertainment at its global showpiece. Meanwhile, a certain Australian/American/walking-conspiracy-theory/media mogul clocked that despite some of the drabness on display, 30m UK viewers that had watched a teary Gazza lose to Germany and came up with a business plan for his flagging experiment in satellite television.

The sea change that still shapes football globally began in earnest twenty years today when Eric Cantona joined Manchester United from Leeds United for a paltry £1.2m. Football would now become a vehicle for entertainment and mind-boggling profits. Gazza was St John the Baptist (yes that is what have you just read) and English football’s messiah turned out to be French.

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Take a girl like that – 25 years of “Savage”, Eurythmics’ avant garde masterpiece

Annie Lennox: still from the video for “Beethoven”, directed by Sophie Muller

The third in a series where Pop Lifer tests music, film, television etc by the rules laid down in Lupe Fiasco’s “Superstar”: “Did you improve on the design?/ Did you do something new?”. If the answer to either of those questions is yes, you qualify for the Lupe Fiasco Award for Services to Pop Culture. Nominee 3: Eurythmics’ experimental, emotionally lacerating “Savage”, which answers both questions with a resounding yes.

The popular imagination is a strange and stupid beast, particularly when it comes to pop culture. It reduces whole complex decades into montages from kiddie cartoons. The sixties becomes one parade of beat combos in black and white, hippies free loving through San Francisco and the Beatles serenading the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi with “All We Need Is Love”. The seventies is rendered as glam rock and Marc Bolan wiping glitter from his brow, slowly morphing into Village People disco and Sex Pistols punk. And the eighties is a day glo blur of gender benders, hairspray abuse and extravagantly overproduced pop, from “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go” to “I Wanna Dance With Somebody”.

It’s this version of the eighties which is captured in awful compilations with Rubik’s Cubes on the covers, immortalised in the disturbing, kitschy success of the School Disco nightclubs and relived every time a drunken aunt drags you onto a wedding dancefloor to jig along to “Come On Eileen”. It’s an insulting caricature of a decade which was actually the strangest, darkest and most experimental pop has ever known.

The synthesiser, only recently popularised by pioneers like Kraftwerk, Giorgio Moroder and Gary Numan, was fast becoming the weapon of choice for a new wave of pop terrorists like Human League and Soft Cell, intent on breaking pop out of its guitar-bound, four-man straitjacket. When David Bowie went to number 1 in August 1980 with the askew, astounding synth-driven “Ashes To Ashes” he sealed this new movement with rock royal approval.

One band illustrates the weird duality of the eighties better than any other. For some, Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart’s Eurythmics are most fondly remembered for their one and only UK number one, the infuriatingly catchy, lavish sugar rush of “There Must Be An Angel (Playing With My Heart)”. Others may remember solemn AOR balladry like “The Miracle Of Love” (an obvious career low) or bombastic anthems like “Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves”. This was the globe-straddling Eurythmics, the ones adored from Texas to Tokyo, wolfing down revered collaborators like Stevie Wonder and Aretha Franklin for breakfast.

But that’s not where the Eurythmics began their peculiar journey. Their debut, “In The Garden”, was a deeply odd and adventurous record, rippling with weird angles and strange textures. There were no hits. The follow up did birth hits, but what peculiar ones they were: the brutally minimal “Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)”, with its eternally snaking synth and dark intonations on emotional and sexual abuse, and the subtler, more insidious “Love Is A Stranger”, as lyrically cynical as it was sonically seductive. These two songs forged Annie Lennox, sharp-suited and flame-cropped, into an icon of androgyny to rival the newly famous Boy George.

The duo’s third album, “Touch”, continued to explore dark, minimal electronica, but also detoured into glossy chart pop with the breezy “Right By Your Side”. This aspect of the band slowly gained primacy in the coming years, culminating in the overblown AOR that bloated 1986’s “Revenge”. The band continued to sell vast numbers of records and were one of the world’s most reliable stadium-fillers, but their days as a sonically experimental, emotionally fierce pop band seemed to belong in the past.

Well. You think you know just what you want…

The duo’s 1987 single “Beethoven (I Love To Listen To)” must have come as something of a shock for U2 fans seduced by upbeat anthems like “When Tomorrow Comes” or catchy-chorused FM rock like “Thorn In My Side”. Christ, “Beethoven” must have come as a shock for people who had spent their entire lives listening to Joy Division, Siouxsie and the Banshees and early Cure records. Constructed from bruising drum loops, a shuddering synth line and stabbing strings, the verses saw Lennox adopt a cruel, teasing, cut-glass English accent and muse aloud lines like “Did I tell you I was lying by the way, when I said I wanted a new mink coat?/ I was just thinking about something sleek to wrap around my tender throat”.

“Beethoven” was promoted with an extraordinary video by the unknown Sophie Muller (now famed for her work with Blur, Radiohead, Coldplay and Brandon Flowers). Not so much a pop video as outre performance art, it stars Lennox as a seething housewife trapped in a grisly American Mid-West Home. She knits with red-eyed fury and wages domestic war with a psychotic little girl and a sinister transvestite, before finally morphing into a glittering, terrifying vamp, wrapped in a shimmering gown and a Marilyn Monroe mane of bright blonde curls. The spectre of Guy Bourdin, the unsettling seventies fashion photographer, hovered over the video, and helped create one of the strangest and most emotionally disturbing concoctions ever released by a monstrously famous pop act. Continue reading

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A dream of pop – review of “Ummagma” and “Antigravity” by Ummagma

 

What’s in a name? When it comes to music scenes, a great deal. In the eighties – while the UK charts were dominated by naggingly catchy, gaudy synth pop – British guitar music was quietly giving birth to something very different. Led by pioneers such as the Cocteau Twins and blossoming in the brief, frustrating, glorious career of My Bloody Valentine, this was a new kind of guitar music that shimmered and shifted, pursuing sonic beauty over the traditional song structure.

And how was this ambition and loveliness rewarded by UK music critics? With the title “shoegazing”, a sneering and lumpen name that guaranteed its unfashionability – a status that lingers in the UK to this day. Yes, the rumours of a new My Bloody Valentine record may be causing hyperventilation among certain sections of the music press, but those bands who have actually pursued their legacy in the 21 years since their last album – such as the wondrous Engineers – have been largely ignored, commercially and critically.

In other parts of the world – particulary in the US – the term “dreampop” was preferred, a vastly better description of the type of beautiful, evocative, lavish music being created by the likes of the criminally under-rated Slowdive. Perhaps it’s this lovelier language which partly explains why such music has flourished in other parts of the world and been treated with the respect all adventurous, beauty-pursuing music deserves.

Ummagma are a perfect illustration of the point. Ukrainian Alexx Kretov and Canadian Shauna McLarnon met in 2003 and have spent the time since wisely, getting married and perfecting the distinctive sound to be found on the two albums they released simultaneously earlier this year: the self-titled “Ummagma” and “Antigravity”. Taken together, they add up to some of the loveliest, most seductive dreampop since Engineers’ magnificent swansong, “Three Fact Fader”, though with a more eclectic, fluid musical approach.

Broadly speaking, the two records reflect two different sides to Ummagma’s personality. The self-titled record is the more conventional rock record, taking in the growling bass-driven “Human Nature”, the bustling indie pop of “Outside” (with its enticing echoes of Throwing Muses at their insistent best) and the sweetly simple, radio-friendly chime of “NIMBY.” The second record “Antigravity” is a more restless, moody creature, taking in sinister, bastardised central-European folk (“Balkanofelli”), David Lynchian atmospherics (“Back To You”) and mutating FX-fuzz (“Live And Let Die”, sadly not a Wings cover).

But such a divide doesn’t really do justice to the complexities and ambiguities that make Ummagma’s sound so rich, and which so generously reward repeated listens. The more accessible “Ummagma” also yields the heavy squall of “Rotation”, its gorgeous MBV-esque scuzz underpinned by industrial percussion, while the darker “Antigravity” contains one of the loveliest songs the band have yet written, the dreamy soundscape of “Lama”, with its long stretches of yearning guitar and crystalline McLarnon vocal. Although their single prettiest song is “Orion”: its twinkling starlit synths and whalesong sighs making it sound like some gorgeous echo from Kate Bush’s “Hounds Of Love”.

But for all the references you can throw at the band, the best moments are when they sound like no-one but themselves. “Upsurd” is one such moment, a turbulent tussle of a tune which fully exploits the interplay between McLarnon’s sweet tones and Kretov’s huskier voice, slipping between moods like it’s twisting and turning in a troubled sleep.

Which isn’t to say that these are perfect records. Some of the songs slip over the line from hazy to insubstantial, and you could argue that if the two albums had been edited into one they would have had a greater intensity and impact. But these are songs that chase beauty at a time when so many guitar bands are content to tread the same stagnant water, and they deserve to be heard. Ummagma sound like a band who are already somewhere fascinating and beautiful, but may be heading towards somewhere even more exciting.

If you’d like to hear Ummagma – and we really, really  think you should – go to http://ummagma.bandcamp.com/ where you can hear and download their albums. We’d recommend starting off with “Lama” and working your way in from there.

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