Rainy morning, late for work

Cartoons | 26/03/2004 at 14:00:54

Annie Leibovitz - "American Music" @ The Hospital - Covent Garden

Words | 10/03/2004 at 11:45:08

"American Music" is an exhibition of recent Annie Leibovitz portraits supporting a book of the same title. The aim of the collection is to explore a sense of 'American-ness' or, indeed, to capture individuals that seem somehow to embody what it is to be an American. And what it means to be rock n roll.

Not all of them are rock n roll 'stars'. In fact, quite a few of the subjects would be completely unfamiliar even to those who would classify themselves as music fans. But it is surprising which portraits actually convey something of the spirit of American music. The photograph of Neil Young, for example, chatting away to his wife in the front seat of his car, could almost be my dad. Minus the sideburns, maybe. It seems so ordinary, it's almost like Annie snapped the photo as they were driving to the supermarket to pick up their groceries. Not very rock n roll!

On the other hand, the portrait of Othar Turner - a preserver of African American fife and drum music, music that precedes the blues - is astonishing. An old African American man, wearing dungerees and a trucker cap, seated on a chair in a darkened farm house room - he stares straight through you. Maybe it's got something to do with the fact that the real American heroes have always been the outsiders, but Othar killed me in a way that, say, the photograph of Willie Nelson - all whiskers and denim - didn't. Or maybe it's just that I've seen Willie Nelson photographed over and over and the portrait just didn't surprise me.

Some of the 'big' rock n roll star images are great though. The image that greets visitors as they enter the exhibition is a huge colour print of the White Stripes. It's wonderfully warped and fucked up - Meg tied to a giant candy-striped board, dressed up like a magician's girly and smiling sweetly, Jack a satin-sheathed knife thrower, looking away, not giving a shit if he hits her or not. The leaden sky and the industrial environment around them contrast wonderfully with their red and white accoutrements, their shiny stage outfits. It's the most showy and contrived of all the portraits on display, but it is extremely successful.

Likewise, the portrait of Brian Wilson uses the natural and man-made world around its subject to create an incredibly powerful image. He's standing in his Beverley Hills garden in a bathrobe and swimming trunks. Behind him is what, on a normal Southern Californian day, would be a wonderful view of West Los Angeles and even, on the clearest of days, a view straight out to the Pacific ocean. But the sky is almost black here and the view is obscured by storm clouds drawing in. This is not the dreamy land of Hollywood, but the LA of Joan Didion and Nathaniel West - the dark edge of the American continent, the dumping ground of the American dream. Wilson is standing by his pool, but there's no way he's getting in. He looks like an old man and a lost man.

The Hospital - a new venue for exhibitions, I think - is an unimpressive gallery space and many of the portraits were actually quite poorly lit - especially the colour images - and that became increasingly frustrating as I walked around. Leibovitz has certainly brought together a strong collection of images in this exhibition, however, and although the ticket price at £6.50 felt a little expensive, it's certainly worth taking a look.

Smash

Cartoons | 09/03/2004 at 13:49:28

Hakim

Photos | 08/03/2004 at 16:04:42

Ta-daaa....
I kind of suspect that Hakim isn't the biggest pop star is Spain...these posters we came across in Seville last year looked so forlorn I just had to take a picture.

01/03/04 - Yo La Tengo. Shepherd's Bush Empire.

Words | 08/03/2004 at 16:00:47

Yo La Tengo is kind of like my favourite sweater. Slightly old and ratty. You know, bobbling under the arms a bit. Maybe even a little short in the torso through too many washes. Oh, and there's a couple of ink stains on the sleeve that just won't come out. But still, even though other items have superceded prominence in my wardrobe, this sweater is the most comfortable and comforting. And kind of makes me feel like ME when i'm wearing it. God's own sweater. Or band. What the hell am i talking about?? Yes...Yo La Tengo...The gig. Sorry!

The lights came down at about 9pm as the band took to the stage. I wouldn't know. I didn't exactly see them do it myself. Being of short stature sucks at gigs - especially gigs where the audience seems mostly made up of exceptionally tall, skinny, slightly balding guys. So staring up at the ceiling of the Empire, all late Victorian ornamentation and pastel colours (like cake icing), I knew that the band had arrived because of the warm cheers from the audience around me.

First up was "Let's Save Tony Orlando's House" from "And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out." A pared-down track - all vocals and drums and soft keyboards. Gentle, but it got everyone dancing. A girl shook her hair to it in one of the upper balconies. (I was still staring straight up.) This moved quickly into "Autumn Sweater", which got a huge cheer from the instant the drums kicked in. It was a faster, more oblique rendition of the classic from "I Saw the Heart Beating as One" though - Ira's vocals more monotonous, Heather's drums tougher. The keyboards were kind of dubby. In fact, if you could say it about Yo La Tengo without smiling (a lot) it had kind of a fat break too! They whipped through several more songs, "Season of the Shark", "Little Eyes" - two really great pop records that suffered somewhat from a quietish PA.

After about 5 songs, Ira finally said hey to the audience. "Thanks for coming to see us tonight when there's so much on!", he beamed. And then, incredulously, "Love are playing!! Why are you here?!" "Don't remind us!" shouted out a member of the audience. "Man, with Arthur Lee, you just never know what you're gonna get," Ira continued, "I wonder what he's saying right now?! When I saw them play, it was crazy! In the middle of the show, for like no reason at all, he yelled out 'Bruce Springsteen [long pause] - Fuck him!!'" - I think everyone nodded appreciatively at this point - "So anyway, for all of you who couldn't make it to the Love show tonight, we thought we'd do something special for you. For this next track we're going to play our instruments through the medium of telekinesis..." and they proceeded to put down their instruments, line up in a row at microphones at the front of the stage - kind of like the indie Supremes or something - and then, horror of horrors, sing along to a backing track!! The song was "Nothing but You and Me", one of my least favourite tracks from Summer Sun...it's a kind of long, drawn-out, jazzy, droney sort of track and on the record, pretty tedious. But with the dancing and sycronised arm movements of the band - James won particular props - it kind of worked! Totally deadpan. A little Yo La freakout. Beat happening!

Then the band picked up their instruments once more and swept into their cover of Sun Ra's "Nuclear War". I have to confess that the Yo La Tengo version of this record is only my third favourite of the three versions of the song that I know of - number 2 is my boyfriend's accapella version which has been known to drive the sanest person stark, RAVING mad and then I guess I have to give it up to Ra himself as being, well, you know, the number one badass of all time. So he wins the top spot, obviously. The live version was much more rewarding, however, than the recording the band released as an EP last year. The bleak orchestration - percussion with the slightest of guitars and keyboards and the mesmerising chant of Ra's lyrics "Nuclear war/It's a motherfucker/They push that button/Your ass gotta go/You're walking around/You got no ass/You're ass-less/You got no ass/Nuclear war..." round and round and up and down and well...shit. It was as wry and terrible and powerful as the song should be. They got it just right.

"Nuclear War" rounded out the main set, but the band played a welcome encore including a classic cover of Love's "A House Is Not A Motel". And I wasn't sad about not hanging out with Arthur Lee and the gang across town at all.