Clay Cook’s Brilliant On Mountain Time
On Mountain Time, the latest CD from Atlanta’s Clay Cook, a renowned producer and multi-instrumentalist, who currently picks in the Zac Brown Band, is an engaging, thought-provoking and no-frills roots-rock triumph. Though there are a few hiccups -––– most notably the self-indulgent “Music School Dropout” ––– the abundance of crisp mid-tempo juggernauts shows that Cook is truly coming into his own.
As much a mash-up of his two prior albums – 2005’s out-of-print debut Self Serving and 2008’s bristling The Year I Grew Up — On Mountain Timeis highlighted by the spartan “Too Scared To Run,” and the introspective “Lost Generation.” The former is a meditation on ambivalence and inactivity while the latter ruminates over complacency and unhappiness. An admitted fan of alt.country Cook wears those influences on his sleeve on the disc’s opening number and the sultry ‘Reno Desert Wind.”
The disc’s best numbers though are the hopeful “I’m Starting Today;” the rustic “Smoke Rise,” featuring members of the Zac Brown Band; and the near-perfect highway lullaby “Sleeping at 75.” On that particular cut, Cook says and does so much in just 5 minutes and 20 seconds, it feels almost criminal to think that such a song can go so widely ignored.
Though he initially made his name as the co-collaborator on some of John Mayer’s earliest hits, Cook indeed lets his true colors shine on this ever-impressive gem of a disc.
The Temptation of St. Tony: Odd Estonian Cinema Treat
For an excursion in the odd and avant-garde, look no further than the Estonian film The Temptation of St. Tony. Shot in black and white and using a loose narrative, this eccentric, unpredictable and altogether zany brain-bender revolves around Tony, a son mourning the loss of his father. But The Temptation of St. Tony is far from a funereal symphony to love, loss and how to cope. Instead it challenges perceptions of religion, morality and conscience. Is it too absurd? Probably. Is it worth seeing? Absolutely.
For starters, lead actor Taavi Eelmaa is a rare talent. He literally says and does so much with only facial gestures and quiet, understated body language. From contemplating how to correctly fire his co-workers to ruminating over what to do with disposed body parts, this black comedy goes places few films ever would.
In the end, St. Tony’s hallmark is its daring director Ounpuu, who has shown a flair for the avant-garde with 2007’s Autumn Ball. Much like that film, St. Tony is eccentric and languorously paced. But, the film was screened at Sundance and Ounpuu was at the receiving end of praise and admiration. Does this mean he’ll pen a film like Monster’s Ball or Y Tu Mama Tambien? Probably not. But New Zealand’s Peter Jackson was once a b-movie sci-fi junkie catering to an oft-ignored niche, when he took a chance on a beloved ancient text and turned it into Oscar gold. Stranger things have indeed happened.
if anything, at least Estonian cinema is being recognized by a global audience. And that is never a bad thing
The Milk of Sorrow: A Languid Yet Memorable Film
Nominated for Best Foreign Film at this year’s Oscars, The Milk of Sorrow is a restrained, languid and ever-important film. Claudia Llosa crafts a distant and muted story about Fausta, a woman who is certain she’s stricken with the milk of sorrow. Though it’s medical credibility is questioned by a Lima doctor, Fausta has been told by her late mother that the disease is passed on through her breasts and has indeed infected her.
What is the Milk of Sorrow? In essence its a psychological toxin, and for Fausta, an unbearable horror she wants no part of. Using a potato as a contraceptive in an attempt to ward off boys, Fausta stays closed and guarded, interacting only with her immediate family members. In many ways, the milk of sorrow shadows and defines her every move.
Though the idea sounds so inane and off-base, the atrocities Fausta’s mother endured at the hands of the Shining Path –––– repeated gang rapes for starters ––– make her folkloric proclamation that much more believable. Clearly anyone that has undergone such havoc and devastation would certainly be scarred for a long time.
Fausta’s mother’s pain is the very point that makes The Milk of Sorrow so profound. Without her presence, the film would most certainly stumble and fall flat. Shot mostly at a distance and moving at a painful crawl, it’s a startling film but one that moves without a pulse or heartbeat. Magaly Solier’s performance as Fausta is star-making and transcendent, but one strong performance doesn’t define a film.
In the end, The Milk of Sorrow’s best assets are its honest look at low-income Peruvian life and its depiction of women. Llosa. a relative newcomer to South American cinema has garnered acclaim at various festivals for her debut film MadeInUSA, and The Milk of Sorrow builds on that praise. Though its cinema industry isn’t well-revered, having been noticed by the Oscars is certainly a positive step forward and one can only hope Llosa inspires hordes of other Peruvian filmmakers to take similar chances and make edgy films like this.
The Milk of Sorrow opens in New York and Los Angeles, later this month.
Mailbox Submissions: Volume One
One of the infinite pleasures of maintaining this humble blog is the abundance of submissions that flood both our inboxes and homes. One of the more recent submissions is Boston singer-songwriter Tavonna Miller, who has recently released a five song EP entitled Four Songs I Wish I Wrote And One I Actually Did. Okay, so it’s not the most clever of titles, but still, points for trying.
Opening up with a staggering cover of Macy Gray’s “I Try,” Miller sets the tone from the very first note. She’s a gal with huge pipes and enough sass and pep to scare Macy. Well, okay, maybe that last point is a stretch but her version of “I Try,” is an absolute smash.
On Jill Scott’s “My Petition,” the Berklee student slows things down and offers a sultry, sensual R&B ballad without flaw. Though it’s clearly not as good as Scott, it’s still reveals a compelling new voice and a singer-songwriter on the rise in the Northeast.
The disc’s apex is an enchanting and mesmerizing cover of Lizz Wright’s “Speak Your Heart.” Bristling with tenderness, vulnerability and Heather Rose’s lingering guitar, it’s a deeply affecting ballad and one that points to Miller’s inherent talents.
Her stab at Imogen Heap’s “Wait It Out,” has the disc’s most potent commercial appeal and is definitely a cover Miller should make a staple of her repertoire for years to come. Every single second of it moves along with polish, professionalism and enough confidence to make Heap blush.
The EP closes with “Me And My Baby,” a timeless, bare-bones piano ballad in which Miller sounds more comfortable and relaxed than on any prior cut. That last fact is what makes Four Song I Wish I Wrote, so disappointing. Miller clearly has worlds of talent and knows her way around a song, so why did she resort to four covers? Being that “Me And My Baby,” is her lone original and is also dynamic, powerful and compelling, makes the end result a bit frustrating. One can easily surmise she has a dozen tracks like this up her sleeve, so why resort to four covers?
In the end, one can only hope an EP or full-length of only original material is on the horizon. Sure enough, Boston has once again done it again, only this time with R&B. Tavonna Miller is a surging talent on the rise and it won’t be long before she’s selling out venues like the House of Blues and The Orpheum.
Adam Ezra Group’s Shaky Albeit Endearing New Disc
Adam Ezra Group is a Boston acoustic pop act that has made waves in and around Boston for the past half-decade. To date the group has shared the stage with Jackson Browne, Cracker, Little Feat, Robert Randolph and the Family Band, Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers, Goo Goo Dolls, Guster, John Mayer, Aerosmith, Dave Matthews Band, Pete Seeger, State Radio and many more. View From the Root is the band’s first national release, but their fourth overall recording. Ezra himself has released three solo efforts.
So how is it?
Lengthy but worth the time. Ezra has a supple vocal delivery that is warm and engaging and more importantly, never disappointing. With the exception of “Half a Hero,” which is an attempt at radio rock, very little about View From the Root is alienating. At its core these are harmless acoustic folk narratives. Album opener “Kate,” is charming and sweet, while “Have We Met,” wears its coffeehouse aura to a T. “Another Sunshine,” has a tangible familiarity as it has spent the last few years playing in the movie screen of our minds. “Home Again Soon,” and the political “Basement Song,” may be the album’s best of the first half. Then things even out a bit. “Flyin’,” “Vision” and “Re-Vision,” are all supple, air-tight and well-executed but none of them have that extra something to vault them towards being something worth coming back to.
The swampy “Scandal,” is a sinewy spoken word blues cut replete with harmonica and one of the better story lines put to paper of any album released this year. Rather unexpectedly, the disc moves to a live format with a near three-minute introduction to the song “She’s Just a Girl,” before diving into a live version of the song. That the song is one of the disc’s most inspired is probably why the introduction was included but its placement still feels kind of weird. That being said, listening to Ezra tell the story he sounds very much like an every man, and comes across as down-to-earth and easy to relate to. That simple tactic, though off-kilter and a bit unexpected gives a glimpse into the singer-songwriter that his songs cannot reveal.
Though “You Paint Me,” is a bit of nothing song, the breezy “Naive Little Me,” is a sensual and inspiring four-minutes. The languorous blues jam “Soul’s For,” moves along lazily but features an inspired harmonica and swirling guitarwork. Though it’s probably not his first calling, there’s little reason to think Ezra couldn’t pull off an entire album of blues sendups and “Soul’s For,” and “Scandal,” prove exactly that. Penultimate cut, “Kill Like This,” is a bristling rock gem buttressed by a howling lead guitar and more of Ezra’s sharp lyrics. With the exception of “Half a Hero,” it’s the only song on View From the Root that has a distinct rock background, but whereas that song stumbled from the very start, “Kill Like This,” kicks and spits from the very start. The disc ends with a live studio version of “Wagon Wheel,” a jangly, hip-shaking pop ditty backed by harmonica that Ezra rips through as if he’s played the song his whole life.
From start to finish, View From the Root is awash in hook-laden choruses, rich musicianship and the kind of polish that indicates Ezra might not be Boston’s secret for long. While it does taper off in places, there’s at least a dozen songs on here that reveal a potency and passion far too hard to imitate. So are Billboard charts in store for Ezra? Probably not. But a future in Nashville does not seem out of the question. If anything View From the Root only reaffirms that very notion.
Danish Film Brotherhood is a Powerful Debut
The most startling thing about the Danish film Brotherhood is that the gritty drama is Nicolo Donato’s directorial debut. What’s remarkable about that very fact is that Brotherhood spins a yarn about two neo-Nazi men falling in love. Yep, you heard right. Third Reich goes queer. Much like Ang Lee’s celebrated drama Brokeback Mountain, the film clashes machismo and bravado with tender, age-old compassion. To call it a triumph would be a serious disservice.
Anchored by first-rate performances from Thure Lindhart and David Dencik, the drama has everything that makes supreme film-making. An engaging script? Check. Sterling cinematography? Check. Realistic dialogue? Check. Filmed in dark, dimly lit corners and mostly at night, it’s a haunting and staggering work and one that should most definitely garner positive acclaim when it debuts in New York, next month.
The film’s arc about brutality, bigotry and the search for identity are indubitably poignant and add layers of depth that the non-linear romance does not. Add in Simon Brenting’s wistful soundtrack and there’s very little about Brotherhood that falls flat.
But even great films have their flaws. The film begins with protagonist Lars (Lindhart) being removed from the military for making advances on his comrades but never shows it. Moreover, towards the film’s latter half it introduces the character of Patrick (a brilliant Morten Holst), a fellow neo-Nazi whose rage towards Lars’ affair with Jimmy (Dencik) reveals far more than just anger over the violation of the organization’s creeds. And lastly, there’s very little light shed on Lars’ combative relationship with his parents, which is one of two contributing factors that lead him to the neo-Nazi tribe.
While great filmmaking often leaves the viewer guessing long after the final frame, these holes could have been patched. But they weren’t. In the end, are these hiccups going to sink the film? Not at all. Great filmmaking triumphs over even the smallest of stumbles and Brotherhood towers above its contemporaries. That very fact is elucidated in its winning the Jury Award for Best Film at the International Rome Festival, last year. But how it got ignored at other festivals is still mind-boggling.
All hyperbole aside, there’s one simple thing to take from Brotherhood. Remember the name Nicolo Donato, if this is just his debut, he is most certainly destined for big things.
A Q&A With My Cousin The Emperor’s Jason Reischel
A band garnering critical acclaim in New York City these days is alt.country act My Cousin, the Emperor, based out of Brooklyn. The group is readying the release of two EP’s later this fall. Recently, vocalist Jason Reischel took the time to sit down and answer some questions. Head to the jump to read the replies. Read more…
British Summer Festival Goes Under the Microscope
It’s almost a rite of summer: day-long/multi-day concert festivals. From Monterrey Pop to Woodstock to Lollapalooza and even Warped Tour, summer would not be summer without them. But at what point does a communal experience breed bad behavior? Over in England, the critically praised Latitude Festival has gone under the microscope after two rapes were reported in just four days. The indecent behavior even extended to the performers, after Alice Glass of Crystal Castles punched and spat on a fan after he inappropriately groped her.
Is the summer heat to blame for such horrific behavior? Is it far simpler than that? Just a few bad apples? Either way, it’s troubling and disturbing and those attending summer festivals should be far more cautious about who they talk to and trust. Sickos are everywhere, horror doesn’t have to be.
Debbie Miller: New York’s Best-Kept Secret
Released on April 20, Debbie Miller’s debut full-length Fake Love is a charming and welcome surprise from one of Manhattan’s most criminally underrated singer-songwriters. Equally combining comedy with hopeless romanticism, the disc is a lo-fi, no-frills blend of honesty, personal vignettes and timeless musicianship.
Album opener “Tippy-toe,” carries a Regina Spektor sentiment in its lush, orchestral arrangements. Equal parts cinematic and silly, it’s a quirky lullaby and a pleasant slice of chamber pop. Lyrics such as, “I never run into girls like me, which is good, cause I would beat them up,” offer the silliness that’s rampant on Fake Love.
For example on the jaunty bounce of “F Train,” she talks about a girl wearing high black boots and no stockings in 20-degree weather. The observant yarn is as much a take on shallow twenty-somethings as it is an attempt to find humor in everyday occurrences. That latter part might be the reason why Fake Love feels so effortless. Whereas some artists try so hard to be sublime and cerebral, Miller feels at ease being this quirky, silly girl next door.
The album’s remaining comedic offerings are the hopeful “Lite Brite,” and the pensive “Did You Ever Wonder”,” in which she recounts asking for the children’s toy on her 24th birthday and recounts a childhood spent without Nintentdo and cable TV. Her deprived youth in turn finds her ruminating over a newfound flame and despite some meek verses, the chorus is an absolute delight.
The rest of Fake Love is standard singer-songwriter fare. The rousing “Eclipse,” features airy pianos and sterling production, while the gossamer “Kindly Remove,” is one of the album’s peaks. Bolstered by restraint, focus and a maturity wise beyond her years, the disc is crisp, self-assured and absolutely dynamic.
That sense of intimacy, directness and delicacy is repeated in the stark tapestry of “It’s a Lie,” and the timeless ballad, “I Rise,” and the gooey narrative “Made You,” in which she admits, “I made you kiss me on the corner and everybody saw. Everybody saw.” When she admits, “I fucked up, cause it’s what I do. I can’t show my face cause people expect more from me,” there’s a sense of palpable believability that’s far too hard to ignore.
The fact of the matter is, there’s probably very few singer-songwriters that could make such simple lines stand out and Miller is indeed one of those. There’s something about the realism, the scenes unfolding as the songs are sung, that makes these compositions a dynamic and engaging affair.
So, sure she might be silly and a bit left-of-center, but in the overcrowded melting pot of New York City, Miller is going to need something to stand out from the pack, and Fake Love, is just the album to do it.
Two New Summer Reads: Light Boxes and 03
Who has the time to sit down with a good book when balancing a day job and a freelance career? Moreover, who has the time to sit down and comb through 200-plus page novels. This writer certainly doesn’t. Thankfully, two new novellas have grabbed my attention and been well worth the time spent.
Released in paperback on June 22, Jean-Christophe Valtat’s 03 marks the English-language debut of the much-celebrated Parisian writer. His 96-page offering, out now on Farrar, Straus and Giroux; is one long paragraph and documents the inner ruminations of a disaffected French teenager’s attraction to a “slightly retarded,” classmate. Equal parts ornate and consuming, the unnamed teenager feels scorned and unappreciated by his hum-drum life in Montepelurilleux and finds a kinship in the girl almost immediately. Though they never speak or meet, his fascination with her induces daydreams and finds him rattling off lyrics to Joy Division and The Cure, and finding solace in Flowers for Algernon. The narrator’s hyper-literate and dizzying psyche reveals his insecurities, fears, sexual desires and recollections on an awkward and uncomfortable youth. Both precocious and passionate, wistful and wanton, the unnamed narrator has a vitality and candor all his own. When he fusses over the ’smeary stigmata of idiocy,’ or the ‘ineluctable similarities,’ it reads more like Proust and less like a young teen in love. Therein lies the power and potency of Valtat’s richly layered text. One can only hope, Farrar Straus and Giroux releases another English-language translation of his work soon. Talent this good should not go undiscovered.
Equally as talented is rising newcomer Shane Jones, whose debut novel Light Boxes, was released in paperback on May 25 by Penguin. As much a fable as it a taut and psychological narrative, this gnomic and off-kilter war novella details the plight of an unnamed New England town battling to free itself from a brutal February. The month has indeed overstayed its welcome and plagued the town for hundreds of days. A ban against kites and balloons only helps fuel the citizens’ anger. When the local children start to go missing, a defiant resident named Thaddeus Lowe coaxes his wife to join forces with a group of outlaws known as The Solution. Former balloonists, now donning bird masks and top hats, the Solution espouse rebellion and help the townspeople combat the mysteries that surround them. As the novel unravels, February is revealed to be a person, a season and a metaphor. And so it is that Jones’ novel unfurls. Laden with vivid detail, Light Boxes is tender, richly absorbing and undeniably inventive. Potent, piercing and powerful, Light Boxes has all the trappings of a new American classic and to quote author Rivka Galchen is, “the kind of novel that makes you reconsider the word perfect.’
