Four films you may not have heard of

Moolaade (2004) Dir. Ousmane Sembene
Set in contempory Burkina Faso, Moolaade is an empowered feminist strike against patriarchy. Six young girls seek sanctuary in the hope of avoiding being subjected to circumcision. This of course stirs up trouble in the hermetic community as male elders are of the belief that traditions must be adhered and that female genital mutilation is a natural rite of passage. From here Sembene peels away at layers of tradition, that still exist in many areas of the sub-Sahara, that amount to closed minded male domination, enslavement, mutilation and superstitious attitude towards women and society.


Sublime Frequencies; Isan: Folk and Pop Music of Northeast Thailand
As part of the Sublime Frequencies record labels on going collating and exposing of rare and exotic sounds from the worlds back tracks and frontiers, Isan: Folk and Pop Music of Northeast Thailand is another fly on the wall road-documentary from the northeast and remote region of Isan where Thai culture mixes and mingles with Cambodian and give birth to a unique near hermetic culture.
We get first hand gorilla style footage of traditional outdoor ceremonies, buskers, nightclubs, folk music and get a genuine feel for the on the ground music and sounds that inhabits this region of the world.


Xaaskayga Araweelo (2006) Dir. Abdisalam Aato
This film has been labelled as a Somali ‘Scary Movie’ and it does sport an all Somali cast, crew and is spoken in Somali. Considering the tragic circumstances that afflict Somalia at present it is hard to imagine a film industry existing there and sure enough this film is located and shot in the United States. And in a way represents a something of a triumph for the diaspora of Somali culture and its continuity. It’s a shame then that this gorilla style near home movie quality film is so poor.
A man fears that his wife may be a serial killer and goes through the motions of learning the truth, the film plods along with long uneventful takes, bad edits that can’t help but be noticed and a repeating piano score that acts more as a lullaby then introducing and tension into this supposed slasher flick.


Wedding in Galilee (1988) Dir. Michael Khleifi
Given that since this films release some 23 years ago there has been two Palestinian Intifadas, it is useful to see a film that documents the mood of the Palestinian and Israeli peoples before the outbreak of the first Intifada. Ostensibly a film about a man who attempts to hold a wedding celebration for his son that will bring great honour upon the family the film goes on to chart the day of preparations and the traditional ceremony. All this is done with long takes that allows time for you to notice the breeze and the heat of the land. But invariably there are tensions to be worked through which relate to the bigger picture of what is going on between these tow peoples and what has go on in Palestine over the last hundred years.

Weather Detection

Mumblecore, the genre, when articulated well takes care in expressing the importance of a shared understanding of language between individuals and it’s ability in shaping lives and relationships. Often what is taken on face value for an ‘um’ or an ‘ah’ is in fact the character searching for a way to understand and be understood.

In Aaron Katz’s latest offering Cold Weather, we are exposed to something like the maturing of the Mumblecore aesthetic and the grafting of its aesthetics onto another genre: the detective story.

Doug, recently returned home to his native Portland after dropping out of his forensic science course, has crashed at his sister Gail’s new apartment and is at something of a loose end. But optimistically something will come along: it does in the unlikely form of a working night’s at an ice factory and a chance meeting and shared experience at a bus stop leads to the forming a friendship with a colleague. At this time Doug’s ex hits town on a work placement and the mingling of the four sets the tone for a group drama piece.

Relationships and shared experiences start to form between all four characters where social tangents and the power of words are exposed. The first act of Cold Weather is by the book Mumblecore with some beautifully observed and shot scenes and a colour palate that soaks up autumn’s dampness.

The second act is where things change and the film takes a new a strange twist with the disappearance of Doug’s ex and so begins a code breaking investigation into what happened and the adoption of a slacker’s Sherlock Holmes pipe to boot. Revealing any more would spoil, but this is a fresh take on the detective story that stays true to its Mumblecore roots by dispensing with sharp, tough and witty dialogue from the Marlow school of detection. And the ending, well that will leave you guessing.

Water Get Enemy

What has been on many peoples’ lips but not often uttered is that Western nations are after control of Libya’s oil and gas reserves, which are considerable and thus create a blocking move to Chinese energy advances on the African continent: interest free loans and economic grants issues to various African nations in return for preferential oil exports. China already imports over 100 billion barrels from Africa annually. Europe, as a hungry consumer of oil and gas would jump at the chance to have vast stores of energy at its foot. So it may be inferred that the West plan to be rid of Gaddafi and take off with Libya’s natural resources.

Yet one issue has been left off the list of security intervention and ‘noble humanitarian aid’: Libya’s water resources. The Middle East has three percent of the world’s population yet, only one percent of the world’s fresh water reserves according to a World Bank Report from 1996. But this is in part due to the fact that the Nubian-Sandstone Aquifer, which covers an area of 2.2 million square km under northeastern Africa, not been exploited and extensively welled to date. Libya, which has constructed a £15.5 billion water network – The Great Manmade River (GMMR) – that supplies the nations major coastal settlements, taps into this huge natural resource in an area of fresh water scarcity and has the potential to ease the plight of drought in the area if managed right.
With a supply infrastructure already in place, when and if the spoils of the Pentagon coined Operation Odyssey Dawn and enforced no fly zone over Libya are cut up the contract for control of the water network invariably will be one of the jewels in the crown of the Western plunder.

The prospect of the Nubian-Sandstone Aquifer providing the Middle East with a water supply that alleviates its arid state is a real one. An infrastructure for extraction exists, all that would be needed for irrigation of many areas of the Middle East is control of Libya, privatisation contracts of the GMMR and international treaties.
A major actor in the rally to arms over Libya has been French President Nicolas Sarkozy. Sarkozy championed the U.N. sanctioned no-fly zone and subsequent intervention, as a vehicle to boost his popularity in the private sector in France going into a reelection campaign, this ‘noble’ intervention, if successful, could well swing votes Sarkozy’s way. France after all is home to Veolia, one of the world’s largest water and waste management company whose scope is truly global. Look for who has the most to gain from the privatization of Libya’s water resources and the chances are that the spoils when dished out will be heading France’s direction.

Dead Gaze

Dead Gaze have a few EP releases under their belt in the last years or so – a quick check on AllMusic reveals two releases yet no reviews and LastFm has little to nothing descript apart for a clutch of identity obscuring photos. A youtube search reveals a bunch of clips that revel a little, but not alot. It would appear that Dead Gaze the band lurk behind a moppish fringe like many an indie rocker is want to do. But if you like pop with hooks and with just a bit more of that lo-fi thing, then search Dead Gaze out.

The Dead Gaze asthetic comes through the filter of distortion, perhaps from six feet under or more likely the ennui of adolecence, yet each sound has enough space to have its own identity, doesn’t have to fight in the mix to be heard, is tight and with a definite tip of the hat to the synth swirl n’ distortion of Shoegaze Dead Gaze is for sure on the Chillwave break, albeit with a slight grunge edge with a nod towards My Bloody Valentine.

But what marks Dead Gaze from many in the pack looking to break out is the very apparent ability to strum out pop hooks with swooning melodies that tap into the emotions of sensitivity and longing for some interpersonal contact that can be classified as ‘real’ from an hipster/indie context.

Also the song craft is there, with most of the tracks that that Dead Gaze having released having classic pop song structures with an intro that throws out a hook and is followed with regular developments done well. Of which could see this band break out this year – much like Best Coast in 2010; would some of Dead Gaze’s charm, vocals that seem to be gurgled, be lost? Time may tell, but for now there is plenty to enjoy and hook laden pop that ultimately resists self-depreciation is a good summer sound.

Stroll Turnpike Lane

The sun and warmth is beginning to return to London and after hermetic winter blues it’s refreshing to take to higher climbs and take in a panoramic view of the blossoming of spring in this wonderful city.

Alexander Palace, the highest point in London, offers fantastic views of the city as well as some historical carry on to muse over. But getting to Ally Pally requires some navigation of the transport network. One of the easiest way is hopping the Piccadilly Line east from Central London and alight at Turnpike Lane, some 20 minutes later.

Turnpike Lane, an old high street and as the name indicates a tollgate was once located on the Lane, now the title is held by the sole pub on Turnpike Lane. Turnpike is a small strip of the east/west running A504 and is lined with residential and retail shops. Also there’s a bus station in behind the tube station where the 144 via Ally Pally can be caught.

But why so fast? A short walk west along Turnpike Lane to the next stop allows for a cultural download not found in many areas in London. Turnpike Lane has a hustle, bustle and liveliness with a mash up of cultures interacting and retailing. But first, if you’re after the lens of weed to take in the views of Ally Pally and don’t want to be carrying any on the tube, duck into Ducketts Common as soon as you leave Turnpike tube station. Look out for a clusters of loitering Somali youths with soft drinks in hands. Presumably ‘cheese’ at a reasonable price and questionable quality is not far away from those hands. (http://www.duckettscommon.org.uk/History.html)

Ducketts Common was once a place for locals to graze their sheep, now its where young entrepreneurs learn a trade alongside one of North London’s few flood lit public basketball courts. The common still has plenty of grass to lazily graze upon if you have time waiting for a companion or bus.

Venturing further west, an assortment of traders line the Lane that is for the most parts of the day bustling with automobiles and local folk who patron many of the local independent retailers. And this is Turnpike Lane’s most noble trait. This short starch of bustling road is crammed with independent retailers all etching out business: Halal meats, restaurants, confectionery, Saree emporiums hairdressers, computer repairs, newsagents, jewelers and one grand light and lamp store at the western end of this grassroots and defiant corridor, where the sprit of commerce in open London survives.

Turnpike lane is a bastion of small, family run businesses in the midst of all the high street chain shops that seem to be linking together and slowly choking out small traders. It would be easy to see Turnpike Lane from the bus, but a short stroll down the lane to the next 144 stop can see you fitted out with fresh foods, beers and bohemian bric-a-brac for your venture up the Palace to take in the city.

Forest Swords - Dagger Paths

A first impression contemporary of Forest Sword could be Sun Araw, but that would only be to get an idea. Sun Araw has the knack to mix and processing things up into none recognition whilst Forest Swords tends to let his references and styles be more apparent. Dub being a heavy influence and faded base lines bounce along in the back of the mix accompanied with percussion that sounds as if it has been recorded from some distance away from equipment.

This gives a distinct ghostly and vacuous aesthetic that is in keeping with many of Forest Sword’s contemporaries. But unlike many of them his treatment of guitar is elevated up in the mix. But then these guitar lines are meandering and elusive at the same time as being right there in the face of the of the dub chamber, creating a stark forlorn estuary of dub wash. And the distinct impression from Forest Sword is of remoteness and a trawling of sad memories.

And of course sounds from the past are one of the stark unifying correlations of this H-pop (or its other names…) sound of the moment. But whilst uploading these past sounds and style fragments from exposure to everyday life, Forest Swords is able to create a spacious and still place that many others simple cant achieve.

“Melodramatic popular songs”

Sex Worker is the current solo side project of Mi Ami rocker Daniel Martin-McCormick. The name is catchy and as it happens the music can be catchy too, but in some dirty anti-catchy sort of way. This pop music doesn’t have bright corners.

For sure this is pop music and it comes courtesy of the Not Not Fun stable that has also brought us Sun Araw, Pocahaunted and other acts that seem to be riding that washed out, west coast and sun faded shitgaze, chillwave, hypnogogic pop or whatever term you may want to splash on it wave of popularity and creativity at the moment. Sex Worker along with their peers give us the flip side of pop, the pop that isn’t so easy to listen to, not so clean and pristine and the sound that you wouldn’t take home to your parents for fear of them suspecting that it’s a new generation of ‘play it backwards and the devil speaks to you’ songs.

Hysterical yelps are Sex Workers vocal style and his compositional palate mainly constitutes simple drum machine loops that punch away and synth sludge/drone that’s sounds as if it could be a waste product making its way through the drainage system of some dilapidated grimy brick building. But there is also pulsation and life to Sex Workers music and it exists in the face of corporate mass made pop. Often Sex Worker will faze in some exquisite high-hat and cymbal track into the mix that will elevate the mood that is pure pop class.

A few youtube video exist as well a some Viemo clips, this is under the radar stuff and even pitchfork have yet to drop the name. It’s hard to say if Sex Worker will break through, it depends on the focus of McCormick, but a lot of what’s on offer on his second release Waving Goodbye is catchy as fuck and a growth from Sex Worker’s debut.

Do the right thing

With Biutiful, Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu for the first time in the ten years he’s been making features works with out his usual scriptwriter, presumably from force of circumstances. But the rest of the back room team of editor, cinematographer, composer and production designer all remain the same from Iñárritu’s previous three features back to Amores Perros, the film that first brought him to international attention. And almost completely the temporal complexities of Guillerma Arriaga structuring have been discarded for a simpler linier narrative.

It could be argued, with Amores Perros these structural complexities paid off but the subsequent 21 Grams and Babel were impeded. The story development and lightness that Inarritu’s storytelling deserves, considering the ambitious Atlas like undertakings, mindboggling interconnectedness and hysterical realist interrogations require a character or something manifest to ground and channel the global concerns Inarritu precipitates

So a tabula rasa of sorts then for Inarritu. Set in Barcelona amongst the crowded, narrow and littered streets of the immigrant working class and poor Biutiful uses the story of the last few months of Uxbal’s life, who’s just been diagnoses with a malignant and terminal cancer. As it happened Uxbal ignored the initial symptoms and when asked by the doctor why he didn’t do something about it straight away he replies that it never hurt as much as it does now. But now, as it turns out, is too late, Uxbal is in deaths waiting room waiting to be taken over with a few months of ‘quality of life’ left.

For Uxbal’s this is a ‘few months’ to sort out the almighty mess that this untimely development creates. Uxbal’s a man walking in the valley of life and death and his life is tangled up in the lives of others, in other words he can’t just walk off and let the curtain drop. Uxbal has two young children, an estranged wife who’s a prostitute and bipolar and is unfit to care for their children add to this his dealings with corrupt police, illegal immigrant hawkers and sweatshops that become death traps. Oh and Uxbal has the gift of being able to talk to the recently deceased and make a little side earning by consoling the bereaved with messages from beyond the grave.

Uxbal is a man trying to make ends meet and is being pulled in different directions by said ends. Stylistically Inarritu has maintained his realist bleached out color palette and this gives rawness to light and we get to experience Uxbal’s sensitive eyes from too many sleepless nights. Barden as Uxbal is exceptional; he brings a nuanced stoic sensitivity to the lead role that operates as an anchor for the rest of the story and its issues to revolve. Uxbal is a struggling man trying to do right he is no superman.

A life, any life, is almost unbearably precarious and when woken from this somnambulistic tread of everyday repetition how will one confront that ‘light’ that we all must conform to. Using agents of capitalism's exploited itinerant victims Inarritu weaves a meditation for confronting your own time.

A new year and a tidy point in time to start making a new bracket. By something of a NY resolution I decided this year to listen to less pop music and investigate other ‘interesting’ sounds. What I have discovered so far is more pop, although the first bona fide discovery of the year can be classified in the Hypnogogic pop lump. So it is pop music but not pop music quite as we know it.

Something of a Pacific beatnik hipster complete with plaid shirt Dirty Beaches sounds, and it always is the sound to which is returned, like it’s excavated from vintage 1950’s era America from a time when ‘all was swell’ but as the sound has been hauled through time it has picked up quite a bit of noise and lo-fi distortion.

Dirty Beaches can croon and be maudlin like few have in recent years but can also hurtle along wild and white knuckle. And this is where Dirty Beaches sounds like something of an Elvis/Iggy Pop fusion with the sound of Suicide playing along. This add to an interesting concoction, for a lot of the carefree that we may automatically associate with the 1950’s is lost from Dirty Beaches and the dark night of that era comes out.