Wise Words...

UK protest singer, folk guru and all-round good guy Billy Bragg has been touring a new album, Shine a Light, with collaborator and US singer-songwriter Joe Henry. 

The album chronicles in blues and country music form a rail journey they made across the US from Chicago to Los Angeles. The album is fab and I'm a long-time Bragg convert, but I was very impressed with Henry, whose work I'd never come across.

Henry also said something very wise about the Trump victory in the recent US election. 

He said: 'This is where we are. It's not who we are.' 

I think that's as true of the Trump victory as it is of the UK Brexit vote. Both nations are currently on a path of anger, hatred and racism that seems intent on banishing any idea of compassion. 

It's not a good path. But it's also not a final destination.

Honky Tonk Samurai...

I am a long-time lover of the work of hardbitten-cum-offbeat thriller writer Joe R Lansdale. I thought The Bottoms and Cold in July were grimly fabulous, and I have also dipped into his short stories.

My favourite novels by him, though, are the Hap and Leonard books, which chronicle the misadventures of East Texas disaster magnets and best pals Hap Collins and Leonard Pine.

Honky Tonk Samurai is the ninth full-length novel featuring the duo, who have also starred in a couple of novellas, and it's a cracking story, littered with all the usual smart and funny dialogue and bizarre plot twists you'd expect.

Reading this book was like catching up with two old friends whose company you always enjoy, and I'm looking forward to our next hook-up when the next novel is out.

I'll also be catching up with online TV series on Amazon, too.

Love these guys.

Five-word Reviews: Sunken Cities: Egypt's Lost Worlds...

F-amazing exhibition. Go see it.

Preacher...

Cards on the table: I am a huge fan of Preacher, the irreverent, violent, macabre, brutal and blackly funny Vertigo comic book series by Garth Ennis and Steve Dillon. So it was with trepidation that I prepared to watch the opening episode of the new series on Amazon Prime. 

But the show opener is shit-bricking brilliant and I have high hopes for the rest of it. 

It was obviously never going to faithfully follow the comic series panel-for-panel, but it's already introduced the key players: disillusioned Preacher Jesse Custer, who suddenly develops an extraordinary celestial power; his love interest and one-woman arse-kicking army, Tulip; and fruit-loop Irish vampire Cassidy. 

There are a few nods to other characters in the comic that will probably develop more fully as the series and its narrative progresses, but the thing I'm most excited about is how they've absolutely nailed the tone of the comic and managed to translate it to TV.

This could good. It could get a five-Herr-Starr review. 

That last thing was a reference to another character in the series. I used that one because working in a reference to the Saint of Killers was far too complicated.

Five-word Reviews: Flowers...

Brilliant, original, darkly absurdist comedy. 
or 
Deserves to win a Bafta. 
or
Stonkingly fabulous original comedy series.

Brian Fallon...

New wave punksters Gaslight Anthem remain a firm favorite at Brooks Towers. The Missus fell in love with them when they released their second album, The 59 Sound, and we’ve seen them several times. Their musical output is impressive and their front man, Brian Fallon, is a great singer and lyricist. As a live act, I’ve seen few better bands than the New Jersey outfit.

This year, however, Fallon is taking a break from Gaslight Anthem and recording under his own name, and he recently released the album. Painkillers. If Gaslight Anthem are Green Day meets Bruce Springsteen, then Painkillers is Gaslight Anthem meets Hank Williams.

It’s a remarkably assured solo debut and it explores a familiar Fallon lyrical landscape, with songs about love and loss, and romance tinged with nostalgia. It’s much more haunting and tender than Fallon in Gaslight Anthem mode and the country-tinged Honey Magnolia is a truly heartbreaking lament.

It’s a beautiful album.

Some Thoughts on Daredevil: Series Two...

Daredevil was always the superhero I loved. While every other geek was waxing lyrical about Spider-Man or the X-Men, the blind-lawyer-turned-crimefighter was my entry point into comics and also my introduction to the work of Frank Miller, who first run on the title, beginning in issue 158 and ending in 191, pretty much marked the start of my mature love affair with all things comics.

The awful Ben Affleck film version from 2003 ruined any hope I had that some form of Daredevil screen success would ever happen. Then Netflix produced an absolutely arse-kicking series in 2015, and have followed it up with what looks like an equally awe-inspiring second series in 2016. 

The villain in series one was the Kingpin (the brilliantly controlled and malevolent Vincent D'Onofrio), while series two has so far featured a stonking Punisher (played with grit and grim determination by Walking Dead actor Jon Bernthal), and the introduction of assassin-for-hire Elektra (Élodie Yung).

At five episodes in, I was genuinely wowed. As a writer, I loved the promising story arcs; as a comics fan, I loved the nods to the other characters in the Marvel universe; and, as a viewer, I loved the production values, the fight scenes and some of the beautifully framed shots, which are clearly influenced by the source material. 

I've now watched the entire second series and, even though that initial euphoria has dissipated, there's stiil so much to commend it. But there are some gripes. 

So, SPOILER ALERT, if you're going to read this any further. 

Charlie Cox is great as the title character, but Matt Murdoch/Daredevil spends far too much time struggling with ethical dilemmas about justice, faith and taking a life in series two, and not enough time showing his human side and caring for and relating to the people closest to him. It's out of keeping with the character developed in series one. It's not consistent enough and his actions spend too much time serving the drive of the plot. This is a shame.

Elektra is a fantastic character in the best of the Daredevil Miller comic books and the stand-alone graphic novels. As this series continues, though, she comes across as a bit of a spoilt rich girl who kills for kicks, rather than a ruthless killer-for-hire whose love for Matt Murdoch makes her occasionally conflicted about her profession. I'm also not convinced by Yung in this role.

The whole Elektra, Hand, Stick and Chaste storyline feels a bit too convoluted and chase-find-fight-escape-and-repeat. This element of the plot does hang together, but it has holes. It feels a bit too thrown together and the fight scenes, while very impressive, are a bit over-long. 

The Punisher story arc is one of the two best things in the second series. It takes a damaged character and the story comes out of the character and what has happened to him. As a viewer, I had an emotional investment in The Punisher and the plot is well paced and it never feels over-extended or gratuitous.

The other element I really enjoyed in series two was the disintegrating relationship with Matt Murdoch and his business partner and long-term friend, Foggy Nelson, played by Elden Henson. The friendship becomes compromised as Murdoch spends more time as Daredevil and less time practising law, and Henson is excellent as the funny and vulnerable lawyer. With Berthnal, he delivers one of the show-stealing performances of series two.

The development of Karen Page felt a bit forced, going from a para legal, to the woman prepping the Punisher for his trial, to ace investigative reporter taking over the mantle of Ben Urich and penning a front-page story. It seem career progression in Hell's Kitchen can be fast, particularly if there's a demanding narrative to support. Deborah Ann Woll puts in a strong performance, though. She's eminently watchable.

Those flaws aside, I'm genuinely delighted to be watching this series and I'm already looking forward to series three, and the loosely connected series of Luke Cage, too. It's making me relive my comic geek teenage years, and it's exciting to see a whole new universe unfolding. This time, though, it's on the screen and not on the page.

And, even though series two of Daredevil may lack the coherence of the first series, it's still pretty kick-arse. Enjoy...

Akhnaten...

I have a sort of bucket list of things I’d like to do before I die. Unusually for me, it’s not actually written down or systematically planned out with specific deadlines. That either means I’m not too fussed about my list or it means I still think I have enough time left to not fret about it.

One of the things on that list is seeing all three operas in the Philip Glass trilogy about famous historical figures who’ve changed our perceptions of the world. The trilogy of works is: Einstein on the Beach, about theoretical physicist Albert Einstein; Satyagraha, about Indian leader Mahatma Gandhi; and Akhnaten, about the pharaoh Akhnaten, who introduced a new monotheistic religion into Ancient Egypt.

The tickets for Akhnaten at the Coliseum in London went on sale last year and I snapped up two front row seats in the dress circle. I figured that if I was going to do this, then I may as well do it in style… although my credit card did yelp in pain when the initial payment went through.

Fortunately, the expense was worth it. It was astonishing experience. 

Staged as a co-production between the English National Opera and Improbable Theatre, it was a visually stunning affair. The set constantly changed to create tableaus of hieroglyphic scripts, then switched to a mass coronation scene, a royal palace, an intimate chamber scene and a street riot, before returning to a tableau of the family of Akhnaten, his mother, his wife and his father reunited in death. The costumes were amazing, too.

I was already familiar with the music and the libretto because it’s one of the classical CDs that’s had the most air play at Brooks Towers. Glass remains one of my ways in to not only modern classical music, but pretty much all classical music. But there was something incredibly absorbing and engaging about hearing it live with a full orchestra and seeing it, too. It was sensory overload.

To paraphrase This is Spinal Tap, it turned the volume of the whole experience up to 11.

I’m still unsure where I stand on opera. In the UK, it’s quite an expensive and an elitist art form, even though a trip to the opera is about the same price as a trip to see a Premiership football team. But I think football is way over-priced, too.

I would, however, rather pay money to the ENO than to a multi-millionaire professional footballer. At least the artists involved aspired towards excellence and pleasing the audience, while too many footballers I've seen seem not to really care about the fans or be very good at their jobs. But that’s an internal debate for another time.

I hope to similarly mesmerised by Einstein on the Beach and Satyagraha.

Five-word Reviews: The Revenant...

It's grim up north (America). 
Don't watch on date night.
Death, violence, death, more misery...

Trapped...

Trapped is a Nordic Noir thriller currently screening on BBC4 and it's pretty bloody good.

Set in Iceland, it tells the story of local police chief Andri (pictured above), played by Ólafur Darri Ólafsson. Once a high-flying detective in Reykjavic, Andri is now running a small police department in a small port town, which suddenly becomes big news when a ferry pulls into port and a dismembered corpse is recovered from the harbour. The ferry and its passengers are forced to stay in port while the investigation gets under way, then a blizzard traps everyone in the town and more disasters and deaths unfold.

The 10-part thriller is beautifully shot and the narrative moves along quickly enough, even though it feels quite slow-paced. Ólafsson plays the lead role of the sometimes vulnerable and sweet Andri with under-stated charm, while Ilmur Kristjánsdóttir is reserved and compassionate as his right-hand woman, Hinrika.

It's classy stuff. It's not quite series one of The Killing or The Bridge, but it's certainly in that ball-park for quality and intrigue.

The Rack Pack...

Made by the BBC and broadast via iPlayer rather than on any of the Beeb channels, The Rack Pack is an entertaining drama about the rise of snooker in the 1980s and the rivalry between establishment darling Steve Davis and baize wild boy Alex Higgins.

I'm a massive Higgins fans and he still remains one of my sporting heroes, and Olivier Award-winner Luke Treadaway certainly captured the charm and the tempestuous nature of ‘The Hurricane’. The drama did, however, skirt over some of Higgins’ more self-destructive and offensive episodes and essentially portrayed him as a tortured Byronesque figure. That may well have been one side of him, but it wasn’t the entire picture.

Will Merrick is excellent as Steve Davis, the dominant snooker force in the 1980s, who provided the strait-laced and corporate ying to Higgins’ explosive yang. There’s also a notable mention for Kevin Bishop as Davis’ wide boy entrepreneur manager, Barry Hearn.

The comedy-drama may offer slightly rose-tinted view of the era and its stars, particularly where Higgins is concerned, but it’s a tender and highly engaging piece of TV, and it’s well worth a look if you have affection or nostalgia  for the era or its players.

In the Reptile House...

I've just finished reading 25 Years in the Reptile House: British Gothic Rock 1976-2001 by Dave Thompson.


As a Goth, of sorts, I love the music and the book is a comprehensive and thoroughly engaging review of the bands and the period. It's nicely written and Thompson has a lovely turn of phrase as well as a real love of the subject.


The layout is a bit hit-and-miss at times, but it's certainly not enough of an issue to detract from a lovingly crafted survey of the music of my teenage years and beyond. It told me lots of things I didn't know, refreshed my memory about lots of music I'd forgotten and it also made me smile.


Though, I'll keep the smiling bit quiet at my next Goths Anonymous meeting. Smiling is frowned upon. As are most things...

Five-word Reviews: The Hateful Eight...

Tarantino's violent, schlock Western swear-fest.

Ai Weiwei...

Chinese artist Ai Weiwei currently has an exhibition on at the R&A in London. And it's fab. 

On entering the R&A courtyard, the sight of a small forest of large, leafless, bolted-together tree carcasses greets you. It looks slightly out-of-kilter but it's strangely beguiling, and you're drawn to the trees, made from bits of different dead trees, now Frankenstein-ed together. You can wander around this bizarre forest as you make your way to the R&A building proper. As you do so, there's an armchair made out of marble, plus a red BMW, where donors can deposit Lego bricks through the sunroof for the artist's next project.

It sounds really bloody strange. It's Lego, it's dead trees, it's a comfortable thing made out of a hard and cold material. It's playful and moving and thought-provoking and you haven't even made it through the doors of the exhibition yet. 

Al Weiwei is the Chinese artist the Chinese government wish would keep his mouth shut. They tried to imprison him, but the international outcry was so great he was freed. They tried to bankrupt him by claiming he hadn't paid taxes and presented him with a £1.5million bill. Well-wishers clubbed together and raised the money in record time. They said he couldn't talk about his imprisonment, so he created six half-size, replica cells showing the claustrophobic conditions he endured that were supposed to teach him obedience. 

Weiwei's a fascinating man and, in terms of the global arts scene, he's probably one of the most important living artists. His art comments on the role of China in the modern world and it offers a critique of how the superpower oppresses its citizens, while at the same time celebrating the spirit of those people and their astonishing craftsmanship.

Take Straight, one of the exhibitions at the R&A. It acts as a monument to the lives of the thousands of schoolchildren who died when an earthquake ravaged Sechuan Province in 2008 and many schools collapsed. On the wall is a stark and huge list of the dead, while on the floor is 150 tonnes of straightened rebar steel, the stuff used to strengthen buildings against earthquakes, stacked as a rolling landscape. 

It's claimed that one of the causes of this tragedy was local government corruption, which meant that cheap and sub-standard rebar was bought... meaning the buildings weren't built to standard and vulnerable to major tremors. It's both a strangely moving tribute to the victims and a brutal critique of those responsible. It's also a visually stunning piece.

There's so much to recommend in this exhibition. Straight was the thing that really wowed me, but other rooms have many other diverse items and installations, which vary in size but not in impact. It's a genuine joy.

Howarth: Top Withens Walk

There is some dispute about whether Top Withens, a ruined farmhouse with two imposing looking trees next to it, is the inspiration for the farmhouse, Wuthering Heights, in the novel, Wuthering Heights. But, located a few miles outside of Howarth, it’s known that Emily did walk there and, even if it was not the exact house she based the literary farmhouse on, its remote location on top of a remote hill must have offered some form of inspiration.

The walk from Howarth to Top Withens and back again is about seven miles and it goes over utterly stunning scenery. It’s sometimes a bit slippy-slidy over mud walking paths, and there’s a couple of difficult bits where it goes uphill, but it’s well worth the effort.

The walk also takes in the Bronte Falls, another haunt of the sisters when they went walking, and it’s very picturesque. The views throughout the walk are nothing short of majestic, but it’s the arrival at Top Withens that is the star attraction. The vistas from this site are breath-taking and it’s a great place to stop and rest before attempting the journey back that goes around the other side of the valley. 

Yorkshire is a beautiful place. I’ve obviously always said that anyway, but it’s good to reminded that your birthplace affiliations do actually have some basis in fact, too.

Howarth: Bronte Parsonage Museum

Howarth is a small town set in the Yorkshire Dales with one key claim to tourist fame: its links with the Bronte family. 

Although not born there, it’s the place where Charlotte, Emily and Anne Bronte, plus their vicar father, Patrick, and their dissolute artist brother, Branwell, grew up and lived the bulk of their lives. It’s also the place where the three sisters created a world-famous literary legacy by writing novels such as Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and several others in the first half of the 19^th century. 

Bronte Parsonage Museum, the home of the Bronte family throughout that period until their deaths, is the physical focus of that fame, and it’s an amazing place. 

The parsonage was bought thanks to private donations in the 1930s, then given to the Bronte Society to restore and create a permanent home for the ever-growing collection of Bronte artefacts, as well as providing a hub of pilgrimage for Bronte fans. What they have created and built over that period of time is a stunning achievement. 

The parsonage itself has been restored so most of the original rooms are recreated as they would haven been when the family were in situ: downstairs is Patrick Bronte’s study, opposite is the living room where late at night the sisters would walk around the table and discuss their novels, then there is the study of Charlotte’s husband, and the kitchen, where Emily would spend lots of time and look out onto the moors through the window. Upstairs are the bedrooms, then a room leads to a permanent exhibition about the sisters and their work and lives. 

The combination of the restored house and the exhibition offers a comprehensive but not overwhelming or intimidating introduction to the lives and works of the three sisters, and it also tells the story of their father and their brother, plus the other two Bronte sisters, Maria and Elizabeth, who both died young, and their mother, also named Maria, who also died young. 

For what could have become a garish literary Disneyland in more corporate hands, it’s a surprisingly intimate and tender place. It doesn’t take too much imagination to see the sisters and their family living and working and writing in the restored rooms. You can tell the whole project has been nothing short of a labour of love for those involved for the past 80-plus years.

When we went, we splashed out on a VIP private tour, which was followed by a private viewing in the collections room. There was obviously an additional price attached to both these experiences, but it was worth every single penny. Our guide, Amy, was obviously passionate about her subject, but she was also knowledgeable, funny and engaging as she took us through the house. 

It was a wonderful experience. I bought it for the birthday of the Missus, who’s a bit of a Bronte nut, but I also found it thoroughly engaging and surprisingly moving. 

Stewart Lee: A Room with a Stew...

Stewart Lee is the best stand-up in the UK. He's been gigging up and down the country for 20-plus years and his recent resurgence, on the back of several successful stand-up tours, has secured him three series of The Stewart Lee Comedy Vehicle, a BBC TV series, which has won acclaim and awards and ensured him a new fanbase. 

His current run at London's Leicester Square Theatre sees Lee testing out material for six 28-minute episodes of the fourth series of his TV show. The gig we saw featured four of these 28-minute slots and each one was fabulous. 

Lee fans will recognise many of the delivery techniques and stylistic tropes employed, but Lee's such a brilliant performer and the construction of the narratives is so multi-layered and skilfully crafted that it's like catching up with an old friend whose quirks are endearing. And it's true that the old friend of Lee's comedy persona may also be a sarcastic, pseudo-intellectual and infuriated curmudgeon, but that's the deal.

It's about the sixth or seventh time we've seen Stewart Lee live and he never disappoints. He's fabulous.

Provincial Punk...

The Missus started doing ceramics about three and a half years ago and her technique and her work are improving at an impressive speed. It's wonderful to see she's found her 'thing'. What I get from martial arts, she gets from pottery. 

Part of her new-found love means we visit various exhibitions by ceramic artists and, last weekend, we headed to the Turner Gallery in Margate to visit the Grayson Perry exhibition, Provincial Punk. 

There was so much brilliant stuff at this exhibition, but one of my favourite things was a speeded-up film showing Perry creating a couple of hand-built coil pots from start to finish, then being able to see the same pots in the exhibition. 

Perry is a fascinating, articulate and inspiring artist. I love the idea that he started doing pottery because it was seen as a bit 'naff' and he thought he could use hand-built pots or craft stuff like tapestries as quiet smart bombs, whose challenging content is smuggled in via a seemingly uncontroversial form. 

I thought Perry's Reith Lectures were wonderful when they went out a few years ago. I've now seen a lot of his work and I genuinely think he's equally wonderful, too.

Newcastle: Part III: Home Gathering...

The Unthanks have been the darlings of the English folk scene for some time now... and rightly so. 

They've produced several amazingly good studio albums, notably the Mercury Prize nominated, The Bairns, and Here's the Tender Coming. They've also gone off and done leftfield projects such as a live album with Brighouse and Rastrick Brass Band, plus an album of traditional folk songs from the Tyne shipyards. 

Meanwhile, singing sisters Becky and Rachel Unthank have both taken part in outside projects; Becky contributing vocals on Martin Green's haunting Crow's Bones deserves a worthy mention here. And they host regular singing weekends and there's clog dancing in there, too. What's not to like? No… Really? What's not to like?

Home Gathering on 22 August was the culmination of their ambition to host their own boutique festival and it was an intimate and engaging affair. The venue was the Stephenson Boiler Workshop in Central Newcastle, a link with the city's industrial past now reshaped as an atmospheric arts space. 

Twelfth Day, Rob Heron's Tea Pad Orchestra, Alasdair Roberts and The Baghdaddies all provided excellent support, while a side stage featured guest singers as the bands were clearing the main stage and setting up. But it was The Unthanks who were the stars of the show.

Fronted by Becky and Rachel, The Unthanks delivered a cracking and intoxicating performance, with highlights including crowd favourite The King of Rome, the haunting Magpie, and the title track from their latest album, Mount the Air. The whole collective are wonderful and inspiring performers and, if there’s a finer sound than the group in full flight as they perform the insistent and heartbreaking Testimony of Patience Kershaw, then I’ve yet to hear it in 30-plus-years of gig-going.

The Unthanks kick all sorts of arse. In an age where commodification and making a fast buck at the expense of quality and sustainability is almost a government dictat, they continue to do their own thing on their own terms. And they do it with an authenticity and love that is all too rare. They remain an act to treasure.

Picture: The Unthanks Website

Newcastle: Part II: Baltic Arts Centre...

Me and the Missus are in Newcastle for a mini music festival and we're out and about exploring and, first up, is the Baltic Centre for Contemporary Arts. 

The venue itself is amazing: an art gallery over the six floors of a converted dockside warehouse alongside the Tyne. It has a high deck that offers fantastic views of the city and amazing glass lifts. The venue itself would be worth a visit without the great stuff it houses.

The three exhibitions when we visited included an installation by a Norwegian artist called Ida Ekblad. Her installation was a sort of carnival of junk that provided the set for a stage play. It was interesting because her process involves rummaging through scrapyards and creating found works from what she recovers. From these scrapyard trips, she creates mini monuments of meaning from discarded junk. They're playful, poignant and a little bit sad. 

The second artist was a painter and a sort of collage creator called Tony Swain. He creates canvases of old newspapers then paints over them. I wasn't massively keen on his stuff. I just didn't connect with it.

My favourite of the three artists on display, though, was an Indonesian artist called Fiona Tan. She now lives in Amsterdam and two of the three works we saw by her were film installations. The first, Disorient, involved two different films playing simultaneously on separate screens at the opposite ends of one room. 

One screen (see picture above) showed a sort of storehouse of Asian artefacts, both ancient and modern, while the other screen showed modern city scapes that have been economically impacted by globalisation. The vocal soundtrack that played over both was an actor reading from an account by Marco Polo about the different countries he visited and his impression of their cultures and riches. As a meditation on identity and cultural heritage, it was an amazing piece of work. 

The second work by Tan was called Inventory, which was filmed at Sir John Soane’s Museum in London, and offers a reflection on collecting and the sort of process of acquisition and cataloguing that takes place when museums take from one culture and bring them back and translate them for another.

The third work was Depot, which re-imagined and recreated a 76ft truck that used to take the preserved carcass of a huge whale across Europe so people could see it. Inside the truck was no whale but a cabinet of curiosities and a small cinema. The film again discusses cataloguing and collecting items, but this time natural history. 

Tan's work is ambitious in scale and idea and incredibly thought-provoking. It's wonderful stuff.