THEATRICAL REVELATIONS - United States Parts 1 - 4 by Laurie Anderson

DOMINION THEATRE - LONDON 

FEBRUARY 1983

First there had been that distinctive single- Oh Superman, quickly followed by a one off London performance at the Lyric Hammersmith in 1982. A show mainly a compilation of tracks from her debut album Big Science, interspersed with her characteristicly elliptical monologues. Laurie Anderson returned six months later to perform the whole eight hours of United States Part 1- 4, at the Dominion Theatre over two nights in February 1983. I booked early.

Laurie Anderson had unexpectedly found herself with a cross over career. As both a respected performance artist and a very unique type of arty pop star. Her interest in linguistics, storytelling, gender roles and modern forms of alienation, found a vehicle in the quirky songs and wry monologues, often phased through a vocoder to make her vocal quality more masculine or feminine depending on whatever was required.

The subject matter of her tales spanned visits to her chiropractor, an old couple getting lost on a massive inter state highway, being on a plane that it might be about to crash, returning to your flat only to discover this is not like your home any more, and many others in this ilk. If there was any linking theme this was not immediately apparent. The impression it left, however, was that she was using the title United States, literally, metaphorically, disfunctionaly - all as a paradox.

She'd collected together a whole bunch of short vignettes that imbued this sense of loss, of longing, of dislocation from normal life, simply not knowing what to make of the world, or how to operate in the world that they were now inhabiting. The expectation was that we all live culturally in a united state with each other. But increasingly we do not. Some of the stories were hence sad ones, others oddly perplexing or simply funny social observations.

A favourite monologue is the poetic - Walking and Falling. Based on an observation that as you walk forward you are always catching yourself from falling over. The staging was a single bright overhead light forming a white circle on the stage. She recites the poetic monlogue whilst walking around its edge, niether fully in nor out of the light. Just a beautifully simple idea of the fleetingness of our existence. An existential truth movingly executed.

United States had an unusual quality in its visual imagery too. The threepin plug hole that looks like a ghost. In the piece Heading Out for the Territories which closed the whole performance, Anderson wore these torch goggles. They lookef like the bright headlights of a car. She walks forward along a plank out toward the auditorium. Hands ahead of her blindly feeling their way, as the goggle headlights rake the darkened auditorium.

She plays with our expectations, both visually and in sound. The tape violin, or her whole body becoming an ampified drum kit. It is the pictures painted in sound that strike you most. The poignant songs about families, lovers, existential worries in a world going badly awry. In some ways Laurie Anderson was way ahead of the curve on documenting 

our current metacrisis. 

The effect of this performance on me, was as a huge point of inspiration. Inventive, challenging, but remaining accessible, Anderson's performance work was the start of my appreciation for performance art. Which led to thinking maybe I should be a performance artist myself, and then doing that for a few years. 

With her pioneering work crossing artistic boundaries between avant-garde culture and popular culture, she made it possible for the work of other female performance artists like Marina Abramovich to become hugely popular. 

THEATRICAL REVELATIONS - The Power of Theatrical Madness

A performance conceived by Jan Fabre, given at the ICA in 1984 & The Royal Albert Hall in 1985.

In the mid 80's I would go to the ICA in London, and take in some performance work or exhibition. Often just on hearsay alone. This prompted my first encountered with Jan Fabre's work The Power of Theatrical Madness. I guess, buoyed by Laurie Anderson's recent breakthrough into the mainstream, everyone was on the look out for who the next performance artist might be, to do a similar cross over. 

Fabre's work had shock value. It had its moment of ART charging into the rarefied halls of middle brow culture. Robert Mapplethorpe produced a book of photos of it. But these days I think its largely forgotten, quite how impactful and influential The Power of Theatrical Madness was at the time.

Jan Fabre's The Power of Theatrical Madness, was, as the title indicates, quite a bit more of a 'theatrical' than an art performance event. Large set piece dramatic happenings that evolved into these often bizarre rituals across the stage. This was a collective ensemble presentation, tightly choreographed, executed with devotion, physical stamina and passion. At over four hours in length this performance was not for sissys. Click here to see trailer -The Power of Theatrical Madness

With no particular narrative thread, The Power of Theatrical Madness, had more the air of a lunatic grand opera, with its evocatively lush background of minimalist music by Wim Merton. What the piece celebrates is the strength of grand dramatic events on stage as a window into the soul of humanity. Whilst also showing us its darker Wagnerian shadow side.

One major theme is our desire to think we are in control of our lives, relationships and reality itself. In this we always fail. By falling into habits, we are touching on an air of regret and ennui. The larger this is writ upon the stage, the more powerful it becomes as a theatrical staging. But also more dangerous, as Fabre's work points toward the use by monarchical and fascistic powers, of all our present elite forms of theatre.

This work exploits the drama inherent in  simple human movement endlessly repeated. A gesture, that might start out as banal, changes in our perception as we watch it repeated, into drudgery, irritability, exhaustion, empathy, beauty, pathos, and on occasions, transcendence.

We have a line up of men in black fatigues and shirts, forced to carry and hold up stacks of plates. At the conclusion the plates are deliberately shattered. In a crashing cascade of rebelliousness and creative carnage. There are also naked kings wearing crowns waltzing around  together. Yeah, it's a bit kinky too.

The piece was long, it tested your power of endurance to be sure. But, for me it was entirely worth it for the last plaintive element in the entire performance. This was set to the a beautiful elegiac movement by Merton, called Whisper Me. In it there is a man and woman. The man down stage moves upstage and lifts the woman into his arms, taking her down stage where he places her on the floor. The woman rises and initially with a certain playful coquettish spirit moves back to where she was at the start. 

This scenario is repeated over and over for the duration of twenty minutes. By which time the man is becoming increasingly tired and clumsy in the execution of picking her up and carrying her upstage. Whilst the woman progressively asserts her own agency with more stridency. This one section of The Power of Theatrical Madness, was worth the entrance fee. It was probably the most beautiful moving piece of theatre I've ever seen. Both poignant and profound. 

Such was its success at the ICA. A much larger venue, the Royal Albert Hall was booked. And I went along to see the same piece on much a larger stage, with larger back projections. The power of the grand gesture in a small space, did feel diminished when you placed it in a performance venue that possessed huge size and grandeur itself. Whilst I understood why they'd chosen to do this. The whole piece lost the sense of human intimacy by that transference. A long gallery in a stately home, or a smaller opera house might have worked better. Though it did strike me that it's ironic gloss of the fascistic rally, was made even more unpalatable by the vastness of the elliptical hall context. Over forty years later, it is still something I'm really glad I saw.

FEATURE - The Yellow Scream

 I owe my Husband for this one. He has put me on to the work of this guy. Its sort of self explanatory, so I'm not going to write anything about it at all. Yes, its hilarious, but I also would call it truly wonderful. This is a drastically edited version, the full video lasts forty minutes.

Now, doesn't that make your day feel a whole lot better?

FEATURE - Lee Mingwei

 

This video of Lee Mingwei's work for the Tate Galleries Turbine Hall called Enter The Labrynth, I found on You Tube. It's mesmeric to watch, like a free form version of a Japanese Zen garden constantly evolving and changing in response to the relationship between the performers. 

THEATRE ONLINE - NT - The Habit of Art

The Habit of Art, in a production by Nicholas Hytner from 2010, takes place in an afternoon rehearsal of a play called Caliban's Day.  The Director's been called away to Leeds, two actors have to do a Chekov matinee, so can't be there. Nevertheless the PA  (Frances de la Tour)  decides to do a run through. The writer of the play unexpectedly turns up, ramping up the querulous tension in the cast. The play centres on WH Auden ( Richard Griffiths) when he was  professor in Oxford and a meeting he had there with his former friend Benjamin Britten ( Alex Jennings). In many ways this play within a play format, is Bennett at his most multifacted and layered. Actors step in and out of character, they question motives, there own, their characters, the playwright's, what the point of the play is, literary societies views of them and of itself, how the itself play should end. What they are going to do after rehearsal finishes.

It attempts to cover a lot of ground, sex, death, art, biography, creative muses, that it can appear a bit hit and miss in its targeting of hypocrisy or morally dubious tendencies. Auden's often savage cruelty and Britten's liking for young boys are pointed out but never stabbed directly in the heart. There is just an embarrassed silence no one knows quiet how to fill. Perhaps the point is that once someone is lauded the habit of art is to overlook, sanitise or even reprehensibly explain away a persons moral failings, because there's an individual's creative reputation to uphold - there was after all the sublime art, lets not forget that my dears, in our rush to judge the dead, and tut tut. Art survives trumps allegations of pedophile behaviour. One is seen as eternal the other as transitory. There are unasked, and therefore unanswered questions here, concerning how we respond and deal with the imperfections and unconscionable actions of people whose art, music or performances we nonetheless admire or are in awe of. Does one have to rule out the other?

Bennett as always is very consummately served by a company of actors who appear frequently in his plays. Here its Richard Griffiths, Alex Jennings and Frances de la Tour, all fluent in his style and use of language. Each chosen, even newcomers Adrian Scarborough  and Steven Wright,  because they can play to a type he requires. 

I've seen quite a few Alan Bennett plays over the years, witty, occasionally pokey, but generally good natured, like well brought up children. One often gets the feeling he is not temperamentally willing to allow his pen to fully land a punch, without cushioning the blow a bit with some whimsy infused sarcasm. One can very easily see that he gives voice through his characters to how really pissed off he is about a lot of contemporary life and views. Well, one can see it, but not often feel it. You are always greatly titilated, which makes any criticism one may wish to voice feel ungrateful or even churlish. I do love his plays, even though I frequently feel incredibly short changed by them.

CARROT REVIEW - 5/8

THEATRE ONLINE - NT - Hansard

Diana Hesketh ( Lindsay Duncan ) is the wife of senior Tory politician Robin Hesketh ( Alex Jennings ). Its the 1980's and everyone is in the thrall of Thatcher. Section 28 has just passed a significant point in its contentious trawl through parliament. Robin returns home for the weekend to find his wife spoiling for an argument. She's the second Mrs Hesketh, the former mistress who triumphed over the first 'Mrs De Winter' as she sarcastically puts it. She believes she is recognising all too familiar signs in her formerly wayward husband. 

Most of the play's duration is packed full of nit picking and sparring between the two leads. Pointed political comment and analysis trip off their tongues with delicious relish. Speaking to many contemporary issues with their origins in the 1980's 'greed is good' mantra. Robin is the ardent Tory, Diana his more than left leaning opposition. These arguments are old and so well rehearsed that each can see them coming. What really lies beneath the current parlous state of play in their marriage, emerges as the play progresses. You can sort of see that coming too. The revelation when it does arrive is not a great surprise. Two and two are put together with comfortable ease.

That said, this a great two hander, originally performed in 2019, that rattles off its entertaining tropes with all the glee of a child tipping out its favourite toys across the floor. Not bad as a first successful play for Simon Woods. Even though it lacks the depth and sophistication by comparison with a David Hare play. Its quite happy to play in the muddier shallow end of political stereotypes. Lindsay Duncan and Alex Jennings are both in their element, on fine scathing form in the cutting fire of their witty, withering and lacerating repartee.

CARROT REVIEW - 6/8

WATCHED - In Fabric

 

In Fabric is written and directed by Peter Strickland and was originally released in 2018. His unique output ( Berberian Sound Studio & The Duke of Burgundy, look them out ) draws on a diverse range of influences. The trash art of auteur Daniel Argento, a 60's & 70's colour palette, shabby gothic, voluptuous characters that make you feel Fenella Fielding will just wander in at any moment. Everything in In Fabric is cranked up and heightened, including the spoken word. The soundtrack is an elegant mix of period and horror pastiche with a modern feeling and expansiveness. This film deftly moves between absurd comedy, horror gore, archly mannered to naturalistic performance. To merely describe the plot will never quite convey the sheer brilliance of this movie. You could summarise it as a horror satire on identity consumerism.

We are introduced to a department store in the January sales. Shelia is venturing to go out on a date and needs a new dress to bolster her confidence. She finds a dress she likes, dyed in 'Artery Red', she buys it. Once home the dress begins to take on a malevolent life of its own. The dress is then passed on into the hands of a washing machine repairman whose mates force him to wear it on his stag night, then on to his girlfriend. Death follows this dress.

The film script for In Fabric is bizarre and utterly wonderful. The language of the head sales lady/witch  sounds like sales talk, but is also like the incantation of a spell being cast upon the potential purchaser. Anyone whose worked in retail will find this aspect a complete hoot.  Excellently played by Fatma Mahomed the head of sales Miss Luckmoore is this weird otherworldly creation. Here are just a small sample of her divine utterances;-

'Dimensions and proportions transcend the prisms of our measurements.'

'The hesitation in your voice, soon to be an echo in the recess in the spheres of retail.'

'A provocation. For what else must one wear?'

'Darings eclipse the dark circumference of caution - Be bold!'

'Did the transaction validate your paradigm of consumerism?'

'And may I interest you in other desire supposes in our exclusive boutique?'

The washing machine repairman is only ever referred to as Reg Speaks, and indeed if you get Reg to speak about the inner workings of a washing machine everyone who listens goes into some sort of ecstatic meditative reverie. None of this is ever explained, nor does it need to be, on some level this film does have its own nightmarish logic that completely captivates you.

'A dramatic affliction has compromised our trusted department store. Get out graciously.'

That said, I suspect not everyone will get on with this movie, it is very knowing about its contrivances and artifices. But I absolutely loved it. Its available to stream on IPlayer for the next month, but also you can buy it very cheaply too.

Oh and for the Buddhists amongst my blog readers Miss Luckmoore says:-

'Desist warning attention to the askew perception of self'

INTRODUCING - Anna Von Hausswolf

Her video's having popped up unbidden onto my You Tube account, I tiptoed into the sonic landscapes of Anna Von Hausswolf. At first I wasn't sure what was going on with all this church organ stuff and dynamic band accompaniments, did I like this?. Where on earth was this coming from?  Was it just too ponderous? It felt like this ought to be pidgeon holed as Gothic but then it definitely is not. Sometimes she sings like Kate Bush and then her voice takes a chilling turn and screeches away with all the guttural power of a Swedish Diamanda Galas. Over time and repeated listens, there is a lot going on here that I find interesting, and have really come to love her work. She is uncatagorisable, though there are a rich plethora of descriptive bandwidths to fit her in - neoclassical dark wave, ambient pop, art pop, ethereal wave, experimental rock, drone. None of which are truly fit for purpose, but can be touched on for brief moments during one single track.

On her first album Singing From The Grave, there are only lyrical hints of the direction she'll later take. Quite carefully constructed songs accompanied by piano with the occasional unconventional arrangement. By Ceremony two years later she's discovered the richness of a church organ and the full Anna Von Hausswolf sound has emerged. This became her breakthrough album, it is dreamlike and suffused with complex imagery, from a world where reality and that of a foreboding folk tale meet. It displays a more diverse range of styles, from the unnerving to the frankly catchy pop tune of Mountains Crave

With each succeeding album things become more darkly sinister, the tracks longer and plunge in much deeper. Certainly by the time you get to Dark Magic's stand out track The Mysterious Vanishing of Electra you can sense an affinity with the grand guignol of Nick Cave's early work with the Bad Seeds, and the aforementioned Diamanda Galas, poking through. Its simply so out there it verges on the edges of sanity. But it is terrific stuff.

After Dark Magic the only place to go was to strip back to the basics. All Thoughts Fly is completely instrumental, no singing, just the organ and electronics. Recorded on an old organ in the sight specific acoustics of its church. The track Sacro Bosco typifies the ambitions of this album. with a brooding atmosphere, full of apprehension and dread. 

She was brought up in a creative environment. Her Father, Carl Micheal Von Hausswolf is well known in Sweden as an avant garde composer. His long layered electronic drone pieces resemble the sounds of industrial machinery as heard through several layers of concrete. At times Anna uses the organ's ability to sustain and layer notes on top of each other to create a third ringing sound that is reminiscent of this aspect in her Father's work. As on this track The Miraculous.

Her videos are often made by her sister Maria Von Hausswolf who is an award winning photographer, filmmaker and performance artist. Visually they are bleak companions that expand on her younger sisters musical psychology. These videos frequently show figures travelling through a forest, a cave or a desolate landscape populated only with overgrown ruins. Its as though we are being taken through a subterranean inner world, through someone else's dream or nightmare. Here nothing makes sense, nothing can be explained, yet it feels all too real.  Anna Von Hausswolf's work is well worth exploring.

LISTENING TO - Handsfree

Handsfree is a composition for orchestra written by Anna Meredith, that utilizes the seemingly endless possibilities of the human body to make sounds and rhythms. She freely admits her starting point was Steve Reich's - Clapping Music but it soon veers off  taking us on a fascinating journey pulling in all sorts of references from beat-box, gospel to tribal dance. Its engaging and thrilling simultaneously. In this video from the Proms 2012, Handsfree is performed by the National Youth Orchestra for whom it was originally commissioned.

LISTENING TO - Wonderful Electric

I recently discovered this BBC live version from Glastonbury 2014 of Goldfrapp's Strict Machine which has a magnificence that is simultaneously triumphant and mystical. Starting, as many Goldfrapp's  tunes from a certain era do, with a direct steal of its central riff, in this case from Chicory Tip's - Son of my Father.  It transcends these cheap mock glam origins to be taken somewhere with much greater grandeur.  I imagine this was, and still is, a bit of a showstopper. Wonderful electric indeed.

200 WORDS ON - Thoughtless Consumption

'the time for thoughtless design, for thoughtless consumption is over'

I came across this quote from Dieter Rams recently. I'd been looking through Netflix for any film not already seen or wasn't a piss poor duplicate of a more famous film, finding nothing. The genre lists appeared to hold the same roster of films but in different order. I became quite frustrated at the empty-headed distractions offered. I wanted something that could offer a more thoughtful level of engagement.

It's clear the film industry loves thoughtless movies, they produce a good return. Lots of fast moving action, dramas and high tech Science-Fiction films which, enjoyable though they are, are basically hollow entertainments. Easily half watched on the sofa whilst eating food, making out, checking what else that actor has been in or film gossip about its production, all from the comfort of your I Pad.

These films put minds and emotions on pause, to be mildly entertained by experiences that leave no trace upon us afterwards. They leave little in the form of substantive meaning, depth of emotional response or mark upon our human imagination. Once the consumption is over we are still left hungry for a richer form of sustenance.

LISTENING TO - Some Favourite Tracks from 2019

Billie Eilish - Bad Guy
Late to the party yet again, I saw her on TV at Glastonbury this year and thought she was something awesome. You hear this everywhere these days, and she will spawn her imitators and no doubt her own creative demise at some point. But for now Bad Guy is street savvy, catchy and an insolent delight from start to finish.


Nick Cave - Ghosteen
I thought Skeleton Tree was something of a career high until this. Over an hour in length it communicates the ordinariness of personal grief, through references to a search for peace that will not come. Cave bears his soul here like only he can, with storytelling and the use of telling oft repeated phrases. I continue to find it so moving I can never listen to it in the background I have to give it the full attention it deserves.


Dave - Psycho
Deservedly winning this years Mercury Price, this track Psycho offers up an honest presentation of one man's world, his mental struggles with himself and with the racism directed towards him. Not a comfortable listen but important none the less.



 
FKA Twigs - Mary Magdalene
Hard to sum up what this woman does but she has the ability to be utterly mesmerising. Her music has echoes of so many disparate influences. The music seems to exist in a time and tempo all its own elegantly slow and steady world, similar to the balladry of James Blake.




James Blake - Don't Miss It
Another sublime bit of songwriting from James Blake. Who always surprises you musically with his arrangements whilst at the same time remaining recognisably the same. Don't Miss It is quite soul bearing at times and reveals aspects of his difficulties with his internal world.



Rain Tree Crow - Rain Tree Crow
A re-release from 1991 of an album by reformed Japan members which manages to sound like one of the best David Sylvian albums. It was quite addictively on my turntable for quite a few weeks.



Rosalia - Malamente
Everyone wants a taste of this woman these days, and you can understand why. Effortlessly blending flamenco and street stylings into something all her own.


Anna Calvi - Hunter
Oh boy, her third album kicks some ass. My favourite track is Wish which I just love and can never have enough of.

FEATURE 142 - Four Moments When I Loved The Fall

Say what you may about the late Mark E Smith he was something of a one off.  Repeated reputation has it that he was a bit of a git, but a genius, which makes being a git synonymous with genius, which simply cannot be always so. Mark E Smith was, however, one of a bunch of single minded poetic northerners along with John Copper Clarke, Morrissey and Ian Curtis, who were sparked into creative life by punk arriving in Manchester in the mid 70's. What marks out Smith as different is that he resolutely continued to maintain his independence and pursue his own muse, even when that led him close to penury. You have to admire someone for sticking unflinchingly to his guns for thirty years of creative output, and sixty band members!

On one day I could find The Fall's jangly amateurism, delightful, with Smith's traditional mode of vocal delivery; half mangling vowels and half one spit away from derision, emitting a rebellious charm. On another day I could find The Fall abrasive and whingeing, with Smith's writing and delivery sounding like an incomprehensible mess, all of which made for uneasy listening. As he got older, the drink and drugs did take their toll. Smith became the sort of person you'd avoid in a pub, sitting glowering in a corner, occasionally shouting out an addled obscenity. So, though you could like and often feel admiration, even a sort of vicarious pride in the fact that Mark E Smith ever existed, rarely was he or The Fall lovable. But even I have had my moments where I succumbed, and here are four of them.

THE FIRST MOMENT I LOVED THE FALL ~ Rowche Rumble  ~ 1979
The Fall in their naive earliest incarnation had a ramshackle spirit, declaring 'fuck 'em if they don't like this,we don't care.'  There are musical moments here to treasure that achieve greatness, by sheer accident. I heard Rowche Rumble first, unsurprisingly, on the John Peel Show, and I was so taken with it I went out and bought it. More than likely recorded in one take, it has this zestful burst of enthusiastic but inept instrument playing that sounds thin and tinny, but it catches your attention from the marching drum beat of its opening bars. Then come the jangly guitars only just on the beat. Its all basic and embellished with the puny sound of a child's organ tinkling tunelessly over the top. This is a joyful few minutes of earnestly left field pop, about chemical addiction! Prophetically Smith sings 'now I've tried crazy things, abusing my body to a great end, but I'll never never never do it again.' , except of course the latter never did happen.




THE SECOND MOMENT I LOVED THE FALL ~  Lie Dream Of A Casino Soul ~ 1981
An almost traditional rock drum opening, quickly becomes perverted into a fast paced demented hand jive. Smith's more confident vocalising is now going at full tilt, his lyrics depicting a grim picture of the seedier run down aspects of urban life, and the northern casino soul scene is painted as a fantasy escapade  ~ ' went home to my slum canyon, on my way I looked up, I saw turrets of Victorian wealth, I saw John the ex-fox, sleeping in some outside bogs, there's a silent rumble, in the buildings of the night council'. Going on behind this rather cracking little number, are off key guitars and keyboards fighting like cats for dominance with those relentless drums.




THE THIRD MOMENT I LOVED THE FALL ~ Living Too Late ~ 1986
I first heard this at Sadlers Wells, when it was played behind a lewdly extravagant performance by The Micheal Clark Dance Company. There is something about that plodding bass line with its downtrodden air, as a jarring keyboard stabs repeatedly into it like a knife, that I love. Over the top Smith intones 'Crows feet are on my face, and I'm living too late, try to wash the black off my face, and I'm living too late'  He's writing about a universal melancholic feeling of being out of sync with your life and  times. Though Smith is often characterised as dour, he's never been averse to a bit of lyrical dry humour, something he's rarely credited with ' Sometimes life is like a bar, plastic seats, beer below par, food with no taste, music grates, I'm living too late'  For me this is The Fall's finest moment.




THE FORTH MOMENT I LOVED THE FALL ~ Hit The North ~ 1987
We are still in the Brix Smith era of The Fall, where the band is, lets say, more professional and on the case. They also sound distinctly poppy with an accessible danceable edge to it. However, one look at the cryptic lyrics I think you'd be hard put to find one iota of sense in them. they are more like a series of dissociated abstracted images that paint a picture, albeit a very out of focus one ~ ' In the reflected mirror of delirium, Eastender and Victorian lager, the induced call, mysterious, come forth ~ Hit the North!  
Still, its a great rallying cry, with a very addictive sax riff.




After this, though I've probably missed out on some great music, I lost interest as they seemed to be becoming part of the familiar well worn furniture.  I fell out of love, with The Fall, you might say.

FEATURE 137 ~ Fever Ray ~ To The Moon & Back.

To The Moon & Back is the first single released from Fever Ray's second album Plunge. It's been a long wait. Many wondered whether Karin Dreijer Andersson's eponymous debut album in 2009 was indeed just a one off experiment. All the elements in that outstanding debut remain in the new album, the desolate sonic landscape, the edgy chill, freakishness, alienated tenderness, lyrically explicit, and bearing all with an honest queerness.

Circumstances have changed for Dreijer. In 2009 she was married with two children, the sense of isolation from the rest of the world, from living in a nuclear family, and motherhood in particular, suffused the atmosphere of that album with a snowbound sombre loneliness.  By 2017 she's definitely gone non-nuclear, now divorced, the sexual politics that scorched through the final album from The Knife ~ Shaking The Habitual, reappears here in a more personal guise.

The sound remains indie-electro, but this time it's edge is as hard as nails, the background tone is no longer a melancholic drone. It has a drive that is rawer and sounds actively assertive, thrusting its oddity and experimentation defiantly out and at you. So, at the end of To The Moon & Back, she does indeed sing 'I want to put my finger up your pussy'. Its what puts the words 'explicit' in brackets by the side of her album.

In many ways the new album carries on musically from where the final The Knife album left off. Rhythmically and structurally complex, Dreijer rarely resorts to a lazy pop cliche, unless for reasons of twisted parody. She appears still to be inordinately fond of vaguely Oriental sounding tune riffs, that first appeared on We Share Our Mother's Health, from the Silent Shout album. Fever Ray maintains The Knife tradition of producing visually discomforting pop videos. They rarely appeared as themselves, and if they did they were usually wearing masks. Subverting the conventions of the pop video by staging complete unknowns miming to their songs.

For Fever Ray the visuals here are much more vivid, lurid and garish, this video has the aesthetic of some trashy lesbian schlock horror movie trailer. Dreijer as Fever Ray, conceals herself now, not behind other people, but behind heavy dramatic face make up, if indeed this is really her, it is hard to know. In terms of how far out there she's prepared to go, this is definitely out there on the fringes of the land of Bjork. Watch the video, but be warned its not holy water she's being anointed with.

Oh, whilst it is all the above, its also damned catchy too.

MUSIC REVIEW ~ Sparks ~ Hippopotamus

Its been a while, but a new album by Sparks, for me, is like a reunion with much loved old friends. It's not that they haven't been busy during the eight years since there last studio album. Most recently they've been working on music for a film script called Annette, filmed by Leos Carax of Holy Motors fame, starring Adam Driver, Rooney Mara, and reportedly a cameo by Rihanna. Personally can't wait to see it. After that Sparks returned to the studio for ten months to make this album, which has a guest vocal appearance by Carax on When Your A French Director., singing 'When your a French director, you're an auteur as well, What does that mean? Every scene must be as obscure as hell.'
So, yes, as that lyric indicates, Ron Mael has been sharpening his customary wit once more. It's been well worth the wait.

On Hippopotamus there are fifteen songs, each a miniature gem, each quite different from the other, but still inimitably Sparks. Here are my personal favourites in no particular order, just as they come to mind.




The album's opener, is a short, bitter sweet song, with a simple piano accompaniment. Probably Nothing, is sung in the first person, its a man trying to remember what it is he wants to say to his partner. Devoid of irony, wit or whimsy, its just a very poignant song about someone with dementia.
'Something to tell you, but now I forget. Probably Nothing. Some little story, No nothing, not yet. Probably Nothing. Don't try to think of it, then it'll come, Happens a lot lately, I feel so dumb. It'll come, when it comes, but I still feel so dumb'



The albums title song Hippopotamus, is one of those off kilter Sparks songs where you just have to surrender to the barmy logic of it. On the face of it, it's just a list of odd things this guys found in his swimming pool, including the aforesaid hippopotamus, a painting by Heironymus Bosch, a Volkswagan micro bus, and Titus Andronicus wearing a snorkel. It has all the lyrical inventiveness we expect from Ron Mael, whilst having the insistence of a playground nursery rhyme that children might skip along too, whilst driving you mad at hearing over and over again.
'There's a book by anonymous, a book by anonymous, a book by anonymous in my pool. There's a book by anonymous, a book by anonymous, and a hippopotamus in my pool. No I've not read it, no I've not read it, when it drys out I'll have a go.'  



Giddy Giddy Giddy, on the surface appears light and insubstantial, but nevertheless this addictive little song drives along at an insane gallop as if it startled the horses. But I absolutely love it. Its sending up the rather hyped up state that contemporary life can often get us all into, so self intoxicated and just giddy with glee about something and nothing.
' from another city, where nobody's giddy, comes a scientific group, to analyse our giddiness, Their water ain't too giddy, their diet ain't too giddy, we're prettier than they are, but their infinitely giddier.'



Scandinavian Design, is a classic Sparks song where knowing cultural references are paraded as a lure to attract a woman to stay the night.
'I've got nothing, just a table and two chairs, But I know that everything I need is there, Every line, every shape, sculptural, no escape. Its Scandinavian Design. Sometimes she comes over, I think I know why, she says the sky has bored her, what's wrong with the sky? Who am I to turn her out, all that she thinks about, is Scandinavian Design.'



Unaware, is another of those Ron Mael songs that by concealing plays with our expectations and interpretation. Eventually to reveal the reason why she's unaware is that she's only a baby.
'Taylor Swift has something new, Nike has a brand new shoe, Reads your heart rate, anywhere, she don't know, she don't care, She's unaware, unaware.'



I Wish You Were Fun, is a great song, reminiscent of a music hall tune in its musical and lyrical style. It demonstrates that in another era Ron Mael could have been a successful Broadway songwriter.
'I wish you were fun, I wish you were fun to be around, I wish you were fun, You say that your favourite colours brown. In every other way I find you amazing but one, I wish you were fun, I wish you were fun.'



The closing song on the album, Life With the Macbeths, Russell sings a duet with an opera singer, in a grand satire on celebrity TV, where Lord and Lady Macbeth's life is being filmed as a reality show.
'As the cameras are rolling, we roll our eyes, But our lifestyle demands we hide our sighs, One season, is all you'll see, As the Lady inspires me to depths unseen, Killing all in my way, some will yell 'obscene' The ratings are off the charts. Life with the Macbeths, both tart and smart.'

Hippopotamus, I think will be viewed as one of Sparks late, but great albums. In its range of styles and invention it bears similarity to Indiscreet, an oft overlooked album from their first flush of success. With Russell now 69 and Ron 72, how much longer these two can keep going recording, let alone touring, remains to be seen. There are a number of songs here that refer to aging and mortality, perhaps this is spurring them on to make best use of whatever productive time they have remaining. Long may they continue.