Kode9 and Spaceape - Black Sun: review

Whether through the exercising of a Western totalitarianism’s might in North Africa, the ongoing witch hunt America is indulging over Wikileaks or the continuing nuclear crisis in Japan- apocalypse haunts us daily, and governments profit just as regularly from exploiting these fears. That science-fiction can offer us more uncomfortable truths about our existence than realist prose is well-documented and largely down to it’s creative license and our willingness to suspend disbelief. The latter example holds special pertinence; Japan has processed it’s own nuclear apocalypse through metaphor and storytelling ever since the bombs were dropped, and there’s a crushing familiarity to the scenes being played out on 24 hour rolling news, of fact and fiction overlapping with a painful deja-vu. If this proves anything, it may be that our world is becoming tragically unmistakable from the paranoid, visionary fantasies of Ballard and the like: that the dystopic futures predicted in science fiction are seeming increasingly like self-fulfilling prophecies.

‘Black Sun’, the new LP from Hyperdub founder Kode9 and longtime collaborator Spaceape resonates along these lines, expanding the mythos of dystopia into a lucid whole comprising both a cohesive narrative and an appropriately unnerving aural palette. Lush cover art inspired by Japanese woodblock prints and an expansive graphic strip included in the liner notes elucidate detail onthe record’s concept. Standout track ‘The Cure’ draws on Spaceape’s own experiences with illness, manipulating it into a vague but compelling exposition of fear and post-humanism. There is a surrealism and unreality which pervades these themes, and perhaps fear is only natural- insofar as anything in cyborg consciousness can be. Many artists employ populist narrative themes to enhance their work, or imbue it with a borrowed relevance, and sci-fi holds a special appeal- Nine Inch Nail’s simplistic Year Zero comes to mind, as does Janelle Monae’s engaging Archandroid and Method Man’s Bobby Digital alter-ego. But ‘Black Sun’ adeptly negotiates the pitfalls of co-opting a sci-fi aesthetic- never painting it’s imagined future with a preaching morality or a deliverance of answers- this is music content with it’s curiosity of overlapping realities.


And if it sounds dystopian, a product of the broken future- then this is most probably the case- ‘Black Sun’ is carved from frequencies and tones designed with the record’s semantic content in mind. A lecturer in philosophy, Kode9’s recently published thesis ‘Sonic Warfare: Sound, Affect, and the Ecology of Fear’ describes the idea that sound can evoke effect, be transportative- and explores the way that sound is used to reposition the listening subject. Famously, guests enjoying the facilities at Guantanamo Bay have been treated to prolonged exposure to the Barney theme tune as part of their psychological conditioning- and generally speaking, its a philosophy which finds much in common with the pervasiveness of sound in Ballard’s writing. If sound has an important role to play in the construction or repositioning of subjectivity then ‘Black Sun’ uses these taut, alternating frequencies to strengthen and reaffirm it’s imagined nightmares and to project them with sonic certainty.

The album title is evocative in multiplicities; of contorted celestial bodies, sin and complicity, society’s death, manifest corruption, the occult- suitable themes for dystopia then- and the album turns on it’s title track, itself a retelling of an earlier story. ‘Black Sun’ was first released a single in 2009 and that version’s angular beat-work is here replaced with subtlety and a slow-build, it’s jarring synths softened, nuanced frequency work set around the shifting chords. Indeed much of this record has been collated over years- tracks undergoing frequent edits, lyrics transmuted between songs. This hypertext approach to composition is itself the product of cyborg mentality, and the artists use tropes of post-humanism throughout the lyrics- utilising their central narrative as means of tying these disparate recordings together with a thematic commonality. This is a world of nuclear fallout and transient identity, where taking the prescribed cure for Earth’s radiation will inevitably mutate you. This jarring predicament calls into question notions of identity and home, their inexorable connectivity.

‘Black Sun’ is a compelling record- that rare kind of concept album that offers an experience both sonically and aesthetically engaging. Perfectly suited to the late night headphone experience and urban navigation, I found myself repositioned through having this on- human interactions became software requests, at every turn I was interfacing with an external reality suddenly taking on qualities inherent to unreality. Perhaps that is the key element of a successful science fiction: that it forces re-perception upon you- brutal truths, abject nightmares and all.

First published in Notion.

We Love Japan, Akira the Don and Adam Ant: review

The bill for Saturday’s We Love Japan benefit at the (cough) “Relentless” Garage had been put together hurredly but with vigour, as is usually the case for such rapidly-announced charity gigs. All credit to the organisers of the night, who not only secured a plethora of bourgeois swag for the evening’s inevitable raffle but who had also coaxed out a rare solo gig out of, and I hasten to repeat the words, 70′s glam legend Adam Ant. I wouldn’t want to be glib, or offer too ready an embrace of kitsch- but gods! I’d come to check out Akira the Don, who had initially been booked to headline- but now I’m seeing an Adam Ant gig! Potential for rock star anecdotes to tell my dad just went through the roof!

Anyway, we’d not come to see the Ant- or that guy from E4 cast as the night’s awkward compere (how do you strike the right tone between recognition of utter tragedy and the desire to have a good night out?)- tonight promised only the opportunity of a rare live outing for the Hackney-based rap-tastic Akira The Don.

This gig, albeit a benefit slot, came at a good time for The Don- shortly after the release of the 25th free mixtape via his website, and before the release of his second proper album, The Life Equation. That mixtape, ATD25- is a phenomenally enjoyable thing- a unstoppable barrage of rapid verses, stupidly good sampling (their remix of Marina and The Diamonds ‘I am not a robot’ is a work of breathtaking alchemy), complementary guest verses and taut production smacking of professionalism and potential. Such sonic results demonstrate well why Akira was initially booked for the night’s main slot. That being said, and making do- a half hour set was more than enough for this enigmatic hip-hop artist to bring his particular ruckus to an audience left tender by the ear-shattering heavy metal band that had preceded (note: that’s not a criticism per se: I think ‘ear-shattering’ is firmly in the mandate for heavy metal bands- central to their raison d’etre, if you will).

Donned in an authentically ‘back in the day’ Wu Tang jumper (from the Iron Flag tour, OG auditers- but besides, what’s with everyone hating on Iron Flag anyway? Ok, it’s not traditional Wu- but it’s got some solid tunes! Akira knows…) and with the help of DJ friend Jack Nimble (who was given his props, no doubt) Akira tore through a set that reflected much of his back catalogue at it’s finest. Old school number “Living in the Future’ was performed with it’s trademark innocence remixed and Akira bouncing around the stage with a glee that was infectious. The beautifully summer ready ‘Oh! What a glorious day!’ gave opportunity for some bona fide sentimentalism, a sing-along in the chorus bracketing odes to cycling down the Kingsland Road in the sun. Pausing between numbers to orate in his uniquely enthused manner (after climbing up a side-stage ladder, noting to himself with excitement ‘Ok, wow- that’s a good climbing ladder..’)- there’s something that’s plain irresistible about the kind of hip-hop Akira the Don is making and all his swagger is ultimately endearing. Calling onstage a troupe of “hip-hop superfriends” (Pixel, Littles, Big Narstie, Marvin the Martian) for the closing number ‘Big Iron’, a standout track from ATD25- the song had the feel of a special moment. The track bounces and jangles like something the RZA might have produced on an upbeat day- and along the finest teachings of the Wu, each verse is magnificent, each rapper’s tone and flow complementing as well as drawing distinction from those around it. And that was that- the support slot feeling all too brief, all too enjoyable.

An intermission, E4 guy doing his level best, and the crowd’s dynamic manifestly altered: the front rows of hipster boys and lolita-inspired harajuku girls replaced by a row of 80s rockers who had taken to reliving their youth in dusted-off leather jackets, and their wives. I was under no illusion what to expect; this was a solo gig from Adam Ant, whatever that meant, and the signs around me were telling their own story. I was open minded enough, and thought I was prepared for this gig to speak for itself. But then, how do you prepare for a performance so underwhelming it merely confuses? Adam Ant bounded onstage dressed up like November 5th had come early. His guitar fed back throughout. He dedicated a song to Elizabeth Taylor (at a Japan benefit, I’d like to remind dear readers). He covered Wild Thing, stripping it of all it’s sex, and seemingly left in a small tissy after failing to rouse the crowd into a singalong with his broken voice. Seriously, some of those high notes? Were meant to be higher. Look, many people applauded him throughout- and he did well playing solo and keeping the crowd engaged enough- staring down audience members and offering perfectly contorted facial expressions on demand and in cue with the showmanship on the fretwork- but I didn’t get it and I’m confused about it to this day.

First published in Notion

Rainbow Arabia - Kabukimono: Review

It's always warming to discover another band formed of marriage, isn't it? Especially when the group consists only of the married couple, unlike indie mainstays Yo La Tengo or Arcade Fire. In both those groups, extra band members must feel at times like musical gooseberries. But however sweet the back-story may be, making decent music goes a lot further. Like Sonny and Cher (in the happier moments), LA couple Danny and Tiffany Prestons enjoy a natural interplay. Their second EP 'Kabukimono' was recorded in the cracks of a relentless touring schedule, at one point opening for the in-vogue Gang Gang Dance across Europe, and it's a wide-eyed wonder of a recrd- a triumph of technology and worldview. Kabukimono clearly draws influence from subculture- dub, italo and post-punk to name a few- but rather than sounding derivative, Rainbow Arabia artfully weave these elements into a sound which is unmistakably their own.


It's a euphoric and refreshing journey across this record's five original recordings and two remixes. Sharpened drumbeats overlap and clash wonderfully, the deep hits conflicting with staccato beats on top. Tiffany Preston's delivery is inflicted with playfulness and soaked in a controlled reverb. Her melodies are less a narrative focal point for the music and rather a kind of avant-garde complement to it. It's a similar style to Ponytail's caustic frontwoman Molly Siegel- though whilst Siegels rasps are shrill and feral, the vocals here are intoxicated and heady. Preston is clearly mouthing words, but it's hard to tell what they are. Maybe even she doesn't know. Maybe it doesn't matter. The cavernous production on the vocals contrasts with a precise drum sound, spiking guitar work and ever so slightly fuzzed synths in a style which calls to mind the work of Warp stalwarts Broadcast- but Rainbow Arabia 's agenda is more cosmopolitan. The steel drums on 'Harlem Sunrise' provide an easy context, but the record is frequently tinged with globalism. Kabukimono is an intriguing record, representing a real statement of promise. Rainbow Arabia have created a psychadelic and hedonistic dream world rich in colour, depth and most importantly, sound- and it's thoroughly enjoyable.

Tru Thoughts Funk: Review

Genre spanning Brighton label Tru Thoughts has enjoyed a fantastic eleven years, putting on some of the area's most essential club nights, hosting a killer radio show and of course, putting out records. But whilst a great deal of their roster have left in recent years, signing for American labels like Ninjatune or the larger British label, Warp- Tru Thoughts have kept going, building a formidable catalogue of releases and artists. This is clearly demonstrated on this Tru Thoughts Funk, which pulls in 18 tracks from the label's funk-inflicted artists. There's always a danger of record label retrospective compilations being both self-congratulatory and an irrelevance. Anyone who owns the albums from which these tracks are pulled will find little they couldn't knock up with a playlist, save an out-of-print recording and the almost mandatory 'two original tracks'. But the partisan audience isn't this record's preferred audience; it's raison d'etre instead is to educate the uninformed listener on all that crazy funk thats been happening in Brighton for the past decade. And in this light, Tru Thoughts Funk gives a very decent account.



Production is impeccable (and you'd suspect, digital) throughout. As an aside, it may be that the genre constantly references an age when music was digested on vinyl, I do feel that the polished sound of contemporary recordings does the musicianship a disservice. This is especially evident on some of the record's instrumental pieces- where the urgency of the groove is lost under the weight of 'clean' digital sound aesthetics. Perhaps I just miss the vinyl hiss. But such moments are rare. Opening with the 70s-inspired strumming of the Quantic Soul Orchestra before giving the platform to brightly-voiced soul diva Alice Russel- guesting with The Bamboos, the record shirks instrumental jams between lyrical numbers. Kyle Auldist's 'It's On' is frank, sun-drenched and everso horny. It's one of the best songs on the comp, delivered with insistence and guile. The backing band playing like they mean it, everyone smiles. In moments like this, it's impossible not to start moving, or smiling with them. Tru Thoughts Funk is a hugely enjoyable start-to-finish listen, perfect DJ fodder and a fine testament to the continued success of this Brighton record label.

The Knife - Tomorrow, in a year: Review

Dispell your expectations now because Silent Shout 2, this ain't. Tomorrow in a Year couldn't be further from that seminal record, nor could The Knife have sought to alienate their casual fanbase any further with this highly avant-garde offering: a 2cd opera foray into the history of evolution. Commissioned by a Danish performance group with a mandate so enticing no artist could turn it down, Karin and Olaf Dreijer have pushed the boat out so far that the shore is no longer visible and indulged the subject matter with a staggering depth and precision- asking only "does life have a sound?" before attempting to recreate it. Tomorrow in a Year seems destined to walk a tightrope between expectancies of 'music' and demands of art's indulgence- is it an 'enjoyable' record or is it a work of such precise art as to merit deconstruction?


It begins with minimalism, much in the way life on this planet did- the faintest chirps and buzzes reverberating and coalescing. As the first disc blossoms, the music begins to take on a more tangible quality. Modulated vocal lines (delivered not by Karin, but by mezzo soprano Kristina Wahlin Mommes, actress Laerke Winther and pop artist Jonathon Johansson) sweep over buzzing synths that do little more, initially, than offer grounding. Field recordings and foundsound contribute to a sense of unfurling. It sounds at once alien and everso familiar; Olaf Dreijer's recce's to the Amazon providing context for the slow build of these compositions. Time itself is the crucial element as sound finds a life of itself: Beat structures, when they do appear, mirror human heartbeats. Rhythm is composed in line with animal influence- at one point harmonising the chorus of poison dart frogs. Elsewhere, sound boxes are utilised to duplicate and affect samples in line with Richard Dawkins' theory of gene trees. Absolute attention to miniscule detail permeates every moment of these records.

The second disc is more immediate- nuance and minimalism giving way to increased detail and structure, much as evolutionary patterns refine over a period of time. Karin Dreijer finally offers a vocal take on the 11 minute opus The Colouring of Pigeons- the very essence of fragility. As the album draws to a close, it's as if nature has led us from the ether to a place where beats, lyrics and structures can coexist in a meaningful sense. Tomorrow in a Year is as much a document of it's own evolution as it is a retelling of nature's laws and entwined mythologies. But how succesful is it? One suspects that the live opera, touring Europe in late Feb- will afford an audience a more fulfilling experience than this studio re-performance.

Belleruche - The Liberty EP: Review

North London's Belleruche have been busy since forming in 2005, self-releasing numerous 7 inches and touring the world over. Now signed to influential Brighton-based label Tru Thoughts, 'The Liberty EP' represents little more than a stop-gap between albums. Rather than making a 'novella' esq statement, Belleruche include a collection of remixes and acoustic reworkings to accompany the two original tracks that open the EP. As such, it's hard to pin down exactly what this record is about.


Openers "56% proof" and "Gold Rush" offer a soulful blend of guitar riff and minimal beats, while singer Kathrin deBoer croons lustfully in call and response in a manner which recalls both Lamb and Portishead's upbeat moments. The riffs overlap with ease and DJ Modest's beat-work is just that: modest, throughout. Never allowing excess, the music is constantly restrained . It's ample fodder for post-dinner party swaying- not enthralling enough to hold course being spun by DJs and not cerebral enough to entertain the home listener. It's crying out for just a little more 'punch' and would certainly benefit from being performed live. Elsewhere the acoustic reworkings are bluesy and competant enough, but the same critique applies. The five remixes which close the EP are varied in their reworkings- but there's a sense to which they've been bandied on to this EP, having nowhere else to live. All of this contributes to a rather thin whole. Belleruche are clearly talented and thoughtful, but would do well to make more assured, individual statements.

Ponyo: Review

It's an interesting crossroads for Hiyao Miyazaki. His films have charmed audiences worldwide and garnered critical acclaim- and in this case, earnt the distribution services of no less than Walt Disney. You could argue that Disney's been going through a kind of existential crisis post-Lion King, so jumping in bed with the world's "in vogue" animator is a by-numbers move. With previous films, notably Spirited Away and Princess Mononoke, Miyazaki has addressed a Japanese audience's history and tradition but with Ponyo, the themes are more universal.


We're introduced to Sosuke, an smart kid with a heart of gold. He lives with his (quite delectable- is it wrong to fancy cartoons?) mother, voiced by the infamous Tina Fey, in a town by the sea. Elsewhere, deep under the sea- a paranoid scientist is custodian to the oceans. His daughter, a magic-endowed fishgirl by the name of Ponyo, escapes in search of adventure only to be discovered and treasured by Sosuke. Therein follows a wonderful love story, full of innocence and charm. The film is visually beautiful, using a palette of simple watercolours. Similarly, the Western dub is spot on (and I didn't think I'd be saying that) with Liam Neeson providing real internal conflict as Fujimoto, and Cate Blanchett offering typically otherwordly tones as the Goddess of the sea.

This wouldn't be a Miyazaki film without the obligatory backdrop of mythology and 'end of the world' fable- however those expecting a subplot as profound as Princess Mononoke or Nausicaa: Valley of Winds may be disappointed: Ponyo is by design a light film, intended primarily for children. But even cast in this light, Ponyo offers a subtle politic, as ocean pollution and fishing-to-extinction are discussed in passing. A youthful audience may leave with a newfound appreciation for nature, without the film having been dogmatic or preachy. Ponyo is a beautifully simple kid's film, the kind anyone could appreciate- it's heart utterly in the right place.

The Foreign Beggars - United Colours of Beggattron: Review

Ignore if you will the slightly cheesy album title and badly-drawn cover art, there's much more to this album than the tongue-in-cheek concept they suggest. Since 'The Foreign Beggars' debuted in 2003, this crew have been busy- building a collective, collaborating with Bjork and Gorillaz, presenting a regular slot on the BBC Asian network and gigging relentlessly. Point is, they might have been too rushed in that rap game to spend much time on the cover art. Spin 'United Colours of Beggattron', the Beggars' 4th album proper, and it practically sizzles from out your speakers. Eschewing old school 'sample-based' hip-hop in favour of beat programming, glitch and cosmic synths, the production here has more in common with the avant stylings of New York's Anti-Pop Consortium than the more mainstream pop of East London's Dizzee Rascal. Regardless, all the rap here is infused with that irresistable London swagger. For the most part, lyrics are insightful and imaginative- a tight cocktail of bravado, wordplay and storytelling. The MCs and guests here compliment each other well, both in terms of tonality and persona. There's a broad array of music on offer here too, from the soulful 'Move Higher' to the club-ready of 'Keeping the line fat', a track boasting a fantastic synth line straight of a Boards of Canada record. We get taken on a tour of the scene- from dancehall to grime, funk to electro. It's very nearly a start-to-finish LP, but for a few trying moments. The faux-hospital radio skit is insufferable: it's protagonist's Indian accent a cringeworthingly poor decision. Elsewhere the odd line falls flat, the occasional rhyme doesn't quite- but I'm splitting hairs. The masterful 'Seven Figure Swagger' is the sound of a crew at the top of it's game, making beats and rhyme for fun. There's no harm in aiming high, but nobody gets there without working for it. A decree that seems to have rubbed off on The Foreign Beggars.

First published in Notion Magazine, London, October 2009

District 9: Review

The much anticipated debut feature from Neill Blomkamp, District 9, goes some distance to justifying the quiet hype it has generated. A sci-fi flick that promises to endear itself beyond the genre's partisan crowd, the buzz around it has been cleverly built up through virals, 'human only' signage in city centres and notably, a Peter Jackson endorsement. The movie itself is frequently entertaining and interesting - but is more conventional than it pretends and not as clever as it should be.


District 9 opens with faux-archive footage of an Alien mothership landing over Johannesburg. Rather than nefarious invaders, it's full of refugees who are doled out squalid shanty-town existences and segregated by the South African government- the allusions to apartheid are immediately obvious, but never overstated. There's xenophobic hostility but the aliens- referred to as 'prawns' are generally regarded with pity, despite hints of an formerly advanced civilisation. It's an interesting reversal of the standard UFO axiom- here, aliens have more to fear from us than vice versa. Historical particulars are glossed over- the plot is evoked initially through eye-witness interviews and scatterbrain archive footage- colluding to build a sense of place, rather than of story. As such, District 9's opening 10 minutes are utterly compelling, it's alternate present day rich and involving.

The film eventually focuses on anti-hero Wikus van der Merwe, an awkward security official charged with evicting the residents of District 9 and moving them to concentration camp District 10. Wikus' nervousness contributes to an encounter with an alien liquid, and he undergoes a genetic transformation in scenes reminiscent of The Fly. His own government turns on him, carrying out specious military experiments. Evading his captors with a running commentary of humourous expletives, an unlikely alliance is formed with an alien freedom fighter. This pairing up is conveyed well, but as this story emerges the more interesting narrative structures fall by the wayside in lieu of standard 'action-blockbuster' storytelling. Indeed, with only a single narrative arc, the second half of the film felt very much like a computer game. Go to a location, shoot things, acheive mission targets, next level. Tiring gunfights replace plot dynamic, and the many shots of soldiers blown apart with 'cool' alien weaponry quickly lose their novelty.

District 9 succeeds in establishing a fascinating hyper-reality- which is then compromised by it's linear story. Blomkamp's earlier short film 'Alive in Joberg' (upon which this is based) maintained a tense ambiguity, but District 9 becomes disappointingly conventional and confused about what it's trying to be. Visually, it's a treat- CG is used intelligently, well shot if not entirely 'cinematic' and edited with tightness. Anyone feeling alienated by the genre (groan) won't be convinced, but District 9 is an interesting if not profound addition to the sci-fi canon, full of charm, intrigue and promise.

First published in Planet Notion

The Yes Men Fix the World: Review

'The Yes Men Fix The World' is the sequel to 2003's 'The Yes Men': documentaries following two anti-corporate activists (Andy Bichlbaum and Mike Bonanno) as they stage a variety of stunts aimed at highlighting global injustice. Their primary weapon in this war is subterfuge- the filmmakers gain the trust of industry and media whilst masquerading as representatives from government or big business. It's a format we've grown accustomed to through the comic-doco style of Michael Moore and the pantomime spoofing of Sacha Baron Cohen's characters. But there's a precarious line between investigative journalism and getting your comedic kicks...


In the first section, the target is Dow Chemical and Union Carbide's refusal to accept responsibility for the Bhopal industrial disaster of 1984 - a tragedy estimated to have killed 25,000. This culminates in a BBC interview with a "Dow representative" promising 12 billion dollars of compensation to those affected. Audacious, yes- but there's little attention paid on the human tragedies of the story. It's used as a tool to rail more generally against the ambiguous 'greed' of 'big corporations'. When the two filmmakers do visit India, it's only to validate their position.

It's a self-congratulatory theme which informs the limp protests against ExxonMobil and Halliburton (soft targets for the protest movement) which are to follow. The film's most succesful argument comes later, and is also it's simplest: Thousands of New Orleans residents have been evicted from their homes in the wake of Katrina. The filmmakers reserve judgement here, letting the subjects speak for themselves- and it makes for convincing footage. But elsewhere, wistful acoustic guitars for background music and stoner-humour do little to validate their arguments, merely establishing that this is a film very much preaching to a partisan audience.

The Yes Men establish their raison d'etre as defenders of justice and the oppressed, patting each other on the back at regular intervals along the way. Whilst their stunts are impressive and their hearts in the right places, the film suffers from nonchalance toward it's subjects and arrogance in it's arguments. It's a tone which is self-defeating and wholly unneccesary when compared with peers of the genre. 'The Czech Dream' (2004) remains humble, whilst longtime comic/activist Mark Thomas is an expert in letting the facts hold centre stage. Occassionally funny but too frequently lightweight, 'The Yes Men Fix the World' raises serious questions, not about fostering social change through comedy, but about the legitimacy of using protest movements as a source of humour and entertainment.

First published in Planet Notion.

DJ Yoda: How to Cut and Paste (30s Edition) : Review

The '30's edition' is the latest in DJ Yoda's 'How to cut and paste' series; a now-established blueprint from which we've received an 80s mash-up, a country western themed disc and a foray into movie soundtracks. On this mix, Yoda samples a range of 1930s music and 'updates' with an array of beats and scratches.


The cult of the mash-up has enjoyed popularity of late due to the rise in availability of easy to use software. But the basic concept of 'the remix' has it's roots in something far older than Ableton. Historically, folk music relied upon certain pieces which were passed down and reinterpreted. A DJ's role is no different. Scouring an archive, reinterpreting. It's a similarly communal experience, rewardng those who pay attention. Faces on the dancefloor light up as they recognise a sample. From a DJ's perspective, such reappropriation can be a safe bet. And here's where it gets problematic.

The '30s edition' is, no doubt, enjoyable. Who wouldn't care to listen to Cab Calloway croon over 'Minnie the Moocher' or reminiscise for the 'Big Rock Candy Mountain'? And if Louis Armstrong's ode to 'Cheesecake' doesn't elicit a smile on first listen, you're incapable of human joy. The problem with this mix is not the source material, it's in the lack of imagination applied to it. DJ Shadow and Cut Chemist applied a limited scope and acheived maximum results with their 'Product Placement' tour- through juxtaposition of samples. Yoda, however, seems content merely to apply morose beats and spoken word samples. It's a surprisingly lazy effort that would make Kool Herc shudder. Like all you have to do is spin an LP and drop a drum-loop on it.

I kept hoping for something engaging: a Robert Johnson riff against a Raekwon a-capell. Thelonius Monk vs Biggie. Instead, almost-verbatim reperformances. Maybe this mix wasn't intended for these discerning ears- perhaps it's meant for people who can only listen to vintage music once it's been co-opted into a known style. Something that goes against the very premise of being a DJ. If Yoda can craft a career from putting beats on records, fair play. But if kids can't listen to the originals on their own merit, then I despair.

First published in Planet Notion.

Broken Embraces: Review

Thank the heavens for Broken Embraces. In a summer that has been dominated by dismal Hollywood refranchising (Terminator, Wolverine, Transformers) and arthouse shock tatics and self-indulgence (Antichrist, Synecdoche New York), Pedro Almodovar's 17th film is a breath of fresh air. The trailer's wordless sequences give nothing away and to those not familiar with the director, I doubt it will invite your interest. But dare to be curious and you will be pleasantly surprised. This is a serious piece of filmmaking; it will reward both the cinephile and the casual viewer.


Penelope Cruz is the ostensible 'star' of the film, though the film is reticent to focus on a particular protagonist or narrative. The plot is embellished as the film jumps between 1994 and 2008: a complex web of storytelling that only reveals the particulars at the film's climax. We meet a blind cinematographer who lives under a pseudonym, an aspiring documentary filmmaker seeking to ruin his father's memory, a jealous financier and of course, Penelope Cruz herself- in the role of Magdelena: a typically passionate, but dissatisfied woman upon whom entire film turns. The film refuses to conform to type; allowing for a myriad of complex, often contradictory emotions.

A touch of self-referentialism never hurt anyone, and Broken Embraces boasts a 'film within a film' storyline that ties all the disparate elements together. Whereas other films have attempted this ad naseum (Synecdoche- to it's absolute limit), it never feels laboured or indulgent. Broken Embrace's characters carry heavy burdens- but the light hearted 60s romp 'Girls with suitcases' within the film is used as much to distract as embolden. It's subjects are dark, but the film's tone is brisk.

This is not a typical indie flick. It lacks the pace of genre-staples such as 'Y Tu Mama Tambien' or 'City of God'. But throughout the film are clues: A delicate scene with a television playing an Ingrid Bergmann film in the background. Casting agents instructing Magdelena to wear her hair 'like Hepburn'.This is classic cinematic storytelling, beautifully shot and acted, rooted in the style of 50s Hollywood.

First published in Planet Notion