Wednesday, June 6, 2007

William, Justine, and Henry - they all died by my hands.

I feel compelled to make note here of one of the most beautiful films i've watched recently. Espíritu de la colmena, Or: The Spirit Of the Beehive, directed by one Victor Erice. I have a strange fascination with Franco-era civil war Spain, which I find to be rich with a kind of more dignified tragedy than some of those OTHER war time fascist dictatorships. Its just that whole For Whom The Bell Tolls, 1936, Viva La Libertad, mujeres libres ilk is incredibly inspiring, even for one whom political concern seems to be slipping away from. Congruent to my fascination with guerilla war fighters, there lies a similar infatuation with Frankenstein, and Universial Movie Monsters of the like. This is a common thing, but c'mon they are awesome. So much possibility for Monster Allegory EVERY DAY.

THAT BEING SAID, The spirit of the beehive is about two girls who see Frankenstein in a small post-civil war town. They're emotionally affected by the film, as is the town by the war they've just experienced. Franco's Spain is atmospherically combined with the romanticism of childhood fantasy, as the girls start to raise, in their own unbearably cute, innocent way, important questions about life. Haunting and visually arresting. It's at some points slow moving, but the story benefits from this if anything.

Montreal Mix-Tapers, I am starting a mixtape club! The idea is we meet once a month, exchange names via the hat system, and themes, then exchange tapes. Fun! The first meeting is TOMMOROW at casa del popolo. I don't know who would be reading this who doesn't know already, but YES. Tommorow. 19:30 at Casa Del Popolo.

Over the last 10 years, Alog have navigated a singular path, treading with delicate precision between thickets of electronics and copses of environmental sound.The results are as fresh and quixotic as you might imagine: staccato, pointillist constructions like ”A Throne For The Common Man” positively thrum with energy as they shake and rattle along in a storm of percussive detail. Moments like these reach back through Tom Waits to Harry Partch, but the flickering, metallic accents of ”The Beginner” are closer to Steve Reich´s ”Drumming”; they conjure a cloud of harmonics shot through with quelrulous whines and whimpers. But in the end, ”Amateur” is simply too various to be summarised with a couple of neat comparisons. Towards its close, ”Bedlam Emblem” executes a graceful ten minute movement from Nordic windblasts through surging psychedelic distortion to whispery near silence; like the rest of the record, it´s immensely suggestive and almost impossible to pin down.

-The Wire

Alog - Amateur

No comments: