| Home | Bio | Current Releases | Upcoming Projects | Book Reviews | Contact |
|
|
|
|
|
||
|
Blog
Latest Update: February 2010 Reading | Of late it’s been more about re-reading than new reading for me. I revisited both Philip Norman’s sprawling John Lennon: A Life and Peter Guralnick’s epic, devastating Careless Love: The Unmaking of Elvis Presley. Read what you like into the fact that I’ve buried myself in two hefty tomes where I knew how things played out even before I’d cracked the spine, but as works of deep research and profound studies of flawed and brilliant human beings, this pair is hard to beat. I still come undone when I read how Lennon, after all his years of success and searching and screwing up, finally gets his house in order, only for some pathetic gun-packing fool to act out his psychosis on the guy. It sucks in a million different ways. And I still have trouble getting my head around the demise of the man they called ‘the Pelvis’, physically and every other way, over, what — five years? Seriously, the guy looked amazing when he took over Vegas in the early 70s but within a few years he was a puffed-up heffer in a bad jumpsuit. Cool shades, though. On a more contemporary note, I’ve just finished Neil Strauss’ The Game (yeah, I know, what took me?) Now, being a happily coupled man with kids and a tricky back and a house with a veranda — and a cat, for God’s sake — I have little in common with Strauss’ tale of girls, girls and even more girls, but I can’t deny being fascinated by his journey into the subterranean world of PUAs (that’s pick up artists, fool). They’re a sad and sorry bunch, but that doesn’t make it any less interesting a book. A great leap forward for Strauss, too, as much as I loved his Motley Crue and Marilyn Manson tell-alls. But just one thing bugged me: as soon as Britney Spears and Courtney Love appeared in the story, albeit in cameos, the book veered off track. I just don’t get it: neither woman registers with me culturally, physically or musically.
’Riting | Recordings |
Harmony James 'Tailwind' (www.harmonyjames.com / 2009): Now, I'm no songwriter, but I know a good line when I hear one. During these few fine minutes of wishing and hoping, Harmony pulls in for petrol and has the following exchange: 'The attendant asks me how much I want, I say, "More than you'll ever know".' Perfect! Hall & Oates Do What You Want Be What You Are (Sony Legacy, 2009): So, what, you don't have a guilty pleasure lurking somewhere in the back of your record collection? I could probably skip some of the H2O-era stuff, although 'One on One' is right up there in the minimalist ballad stakes, but there's been no better voice in the blue-eyed soul stakes than Daryl Hall. Alright, Todd Rundgren. But you know what I'm getting at. And don't try and tell me that you can hear 'She's Gone' or 'Sara Smile' and not get a little misty. There's some choice deep tracks, too, including a live 'Lady Rain', a remix of 'Gino (The Manager)', and 'Fall in Philadelphia', which I've always dug. Don't miss Live from Daryl's House, either. Great show, fancy freakin' house(s). Whitley Go Forth Find Mammoth (Dew Process, 2009): Sounding old and familiar yet new and fresh at the same time is some feat. Beck circa Odelay is an obvious touchstone — neither require more than one name, for starters — but as clever as Whitley's chamber pop no doubt is, he comes without the hipster stance and ironic distance. This is sincere, heartfelt and at times quite beautiful. Leroy Lee (Paper Sleeve, 2009): One track in and I was thinking, "Do we really need another Pete Murray?" But I was wrong: this Unearthed winner is the real singer / strummer deal — and if he's channelling anyone, it's Elliott Smith. Daniel Johnston Is and Always Was (Alberts, 2009): I didn't know much about DJ until the rockumentary The Devil and Daniel Johnston, which charted his battle with mental illness and gave all the usual suspects the chance to gush over his off-kilter, lo-fidelity songs. Is and Always Was (hub / albert), his first release in six years, wields all the Johnston trademarks: a child-like innocence (see Queenie the Dog), a winning indie pop style, and some cool-school contributors, but I can't help but wonder how much of his appeal is based on cool-school pity. Recommended (But Not Always) |
Breaking Bad: Yet another great show overlooked by the pinheads who program local TV content. As unlikely as it seems, you can't help but feel for the plight of Walter White, a modern day crystal meth dealer. It's not easy out there, brother. Hung: If HBO have produced a genuine flop, I'm yet to see it. And that's a segue if I ever wrote one. My only problem with this struggling-coach-discovers-his-biggest asset morality tale is that the best lines are thought by Ray, our stud-for-hire, rather than spoken. Still, it's got to be better than Packed to the Rafters. Who watches that crap, anyway? Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip: As watchable as this is in parts, I have a few theories as to why it didn't rank a second season. Firstly, a drama about a comedy show is a tough ask — these characters aren't that funny, so how can they be writing comedy? And Aaron Sorkin, as good as he is with the 'walking and talking' stuff, really can't create a female character to save his life (or that of the series). In Studio 60 they're little more than attractive lumps of wood. My interest faded seriously once the male leads started hectoring their love interests, and the women started to cave. Ranting | I've been tiring of some of the more ill-informed reviews of my Keith Urban book — although I do love the good ones, of course — so I recently leapt into print at www.amazon.com, defending myself. Who else is going to fight my battles? Not sure if my argument was embraced, but it's got to be better than sitting around and moping about being misunderstood. I'll probably still do that, but at least I've got an outlet.
|
| © Jeff Apter | Contact Us | Web Design by Web Genesis |