Cinematic Music with Pauly Deathwish
Season 1 Episode 3
Cinematic Music with Pauly Deathwish
Season 1 Episode 3
Cinematic Music with Pauly Deathwish
Season 1 Episode 2
Recommended if you like Godspeed You! Black Emperor
“Vita Nostra”–Ennio Morricone
“Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin'”–Journey
“You Got the Silver”–The Rolling Stones
“Chain Letter”–Todd Rundgren
“In the Air Tonight”–Phil Collins
“San Diego Serenade”–Tom Waits
“Tabula rasa: 2. Silentium: Senza moto”–Arvo Pärt
“River Deep – Mountain High”–Ike & Tina Turner
“Tema d’amore”–Ennio Morricone
“13 Angels Standing Guard ‘Round the Side of Your Bed”–Silver Mt. Zion
“Let’s Get Lost”–Chet Baker
“Pablo and Andrea”–Yo La Tengo
“I’m a Fool to Want You”–Billie Holiday
“Moonlight Mile”–The Rolling Stones
“Expecting to Fly”–Buffalo Springfield
“The Light Before We Land”–The Delgados
It starts just like Charlotte Gainsbourg.
But there is something different.
A shruti box?
A little distorto guitar.
A little Yo La Tengo.
Built to Spill.
Guitar carries it for a second.
And then into an Amon Düül II warble.
Like Marc Bolan.
Most annoying sound in the world.
Into Pink Floyd.
Circa The Wall.
Almost a premonition of impending doom.
Calm before the storm.
J. Spaceman telephony.
Floating with no highs and no lows.
Strong opening track.
Immediate Delgados shift.
Great counterpoint for a pop musician.
But if you check this bloke’s CV…
You’ll know he went through Fux.
Gonna have to say Elliott Smith.
Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci.
Megan Childs violin.
Around the warm fire.
Strings open up.
Orchestral bass that Lou loved.
This guy’s a bastard.
Is this a breakup album?
I thought the last one was a breakup album?
Into Gorwel Owen.
The last GZM album.
Money never runs out.
Cheap air organ.
A very apropos album title.
Spring water Scotch.
And then the Great Reset arrives.
Like a fucking spaceship.
What is this glitch business?
Thom Yorke blasts upon the scene.
Drums James Brown.
Caught by Lee “Scratch”.
Guitar all mangled.
Bert Jansch out of fucking nowhere.
Track rejected by Bond franchise.
Acoustic to electric.
Now it’s Serge.
More Brian Wilson.
Van Dyke Parks.
Still a sadness.
That the old world is passing away.
Right into some Leonard Cohen shit!
How the FUCK was this recorded?
Sounds like 2″ tape.
how has this Pauly Deathwish released three albums in two months?
I can’t even keep up with this guy.
Like a Christmas album.
See You on the Other Side.
A review in the liner notes.
Record pillaging wizard.
Lots of fucking glockenspiel on this record.
But it’s nice.
Like Ennio Morricone.
Again with sugar plum.
Fresher than the sweetness in water.
Light, British, airy.
Is this the single?
A little neo-psych Hendrix moment.
It’s definitely GZM.
Repetition until transcend.
Stereolab first album.
Definitely some breakup here.
Lots of drum machine.
Drum and bass.
Definitely holds up with Radiohead.
How the fuck was this made?
PD tells us that it was all made on an iPhone with only a Telecaster.
That is some serious trickery.
This is COMPLEX music.
Mixes sound polished.
Some Chinese stuff.
Noise floor fucked for the first time ever.
It’s THAT good.
How was this made?
This heralds a new talent.
But this bloke is 44.
Tour sponsored by Ensure.
Not hearing a sophomore slump here.
Two albums in two months.
Review third forthcoming.
This dude is emo as fuck.
I dig it.
This guy is a mystery.
What is his deal?
This sounds more like a cohesive album that Introversion.
Introversion sounds like a debut album…in all the best ways.
Songs saved up.
A greatest hits.
Go big or go home.
This album deals much more in subtlety.
Not every song here is a home run.
This album breathes.
More Beach Boys vibes.
But mentally sharp.
A spark of genius.
A little bluegrass.
The old world is passing away.
Incredible String Band.
Back and forth.
And across to Ireland.
There’s the single.
“Makes Me Wanna Stay in Bed”.
Hate is all you need.
Coming in from the cold.
Delayed bass from The Wall.
Good fucking song!
All Is Dream.
Hard following up.
Emma Pollock solo.
With Alun Woodward singing.
The Great Eastern.
Let It Come Down.
A Rush of Blood to the Head.
This bloke is serious as fuck.
I’m sensing a Jandek promotional strategy.
Final track Richter.
Big symphony night.
Excitement of New York Phil.
The fucking french horns!
A story in dynamics.
A folk album.
That glow in The World’s End.
But a sadness.
My Bloody Valentine.
Sloshy grunge hats.
I Am the Cosmos.
Yerself Is Steam.
The disappearance of Madeleine McCann.
You don’t know how it feels.
I can only give you everything.
Black magic warded off by honesty.
Serge on the way.
Lenny Bruce, even.
Hit to Death in the Future Head.
Wait at least until track three to break it down.
Southern Harmony and Musical Companion.
The confusion of ridiculous counterpoint.
Tonal, yet dissonant.
Thick Billy Corgan.
Definitely a sadness here.
All you need is hate.
The Inflated Tear.
Columbus, Ohio with duct tape.
Posing with a bass clarinet.
Did I ever write one?
Yes, I did.
Or is it contrabassoon?
Nadia Boulanger can tell you.
My teacher’s teacher (twice over).
The Left Banke.
Transient Random-Noise Bursts with Announcements.
A little lo-fi.
Changes that pull at your heartstrings.
A fucking marimba solo?!?
Are you kidding me???
Pauly Deathwish collaboration with Gordon Gano of Violent Femmes.
Lost Bayou Ramblers.
Gordon knew him as Death.
I have become death.
Tim Gane tone.
Back to J. Spaceman.
Dirty ass rock and roll with pristine horns.
Is this the artist we’ve been waiting for?
R. Stevie Moore?
Sounds like Jack Nitzsche.
Major Velvet vibes.
Dylan with P-bass.
Too much attitude.
Let it Come Down.
Fucker kicked the bucket.
First to be vaxxed.
First Suicide album.
The Soft Bulletin.
Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space.
Gimme some lovin’?
La Monte Young.
First rehearsal tapes.
New York City heroin.
Warhol Factory torn down.
Across from YMCA.
Great throwaway lyrics.
Sound of universe.
Direct into mixing console.
Blood pressure rising.
I think I’m in love.
Will the circle remain unbroken?
When I had dinner with Roky.
First Velvets album.
But you gotta buy it.
Cop shoot cop.
On the jukebox.
Eat at the gas station.
First time in Texas.
It’s definitely Bowie.
Old is new again.
A fuck ton of flutes.
Flute loops literally.
Little fluffy clouds.
Gay glam chorus.
Boys peel out.
Gives me pants.
A Shot in the Dark.
Under the Western Freeway.
With Sean Mackowiak.
Comes back loud.
One song mastered soft.
The main influence of Pauly Deathwish’s debut album.
Chariots of fire.
Such a groove.
By the side of a freeway.
Under an underpass.
Not like RHCP.
How did a Trump supporter make this album?!?
I thought all Trump supporters were redneck morons???
This is way fucking better than Ariel Pink’s dabblings.
This sounds like a debut album.
Songs saved up.
Like The Strokes.
Cinematic as fuck.
Trail of Dead.
Because Pauly wrote the string arrangement on IX.
Snot on the crowd.
Lost Bayou Ramblers lost sessions.
This was all made on an iPhone?!?
Major 7ths in uppermost range of piano.
Almost indistinguishable from octaves.
Only for the sensuous ear.
Waters delayed bass.
No nonsense drums.
Humble Pie reference?!?
Predating new Bob Dylan album.
Check SoundCloud timestamp.
This is definitely the QAnon anthem.
This hook should be on a million conspiracy videos.
“10 Days of Darkness”.
Tell ’em Large Marge sent ya!
My end is my beginning is my end.
Great debut album (if I do say so myself).
If would be a shame if there were any lies wrapped up in Holocaust historiography.
Because, if there were, they would have the potential to seriously degrade what should be a pure remembrance.
If, for instance, the majority of concentration camp prisoners/workers died as a direct result of the Allies cutting Nazi supply lines.
And when these camps were “liberated” or otherwise found, public relations needed a story (and fast!) to account for this horrible loss of life which technically fell on the shoulders of the Allies.
If (and it’s a big if) that was the case, then such a “noble” lie might have been “borrowed” by the emerging Zionist state of Israel.
Anything to make way for the Jewish homeland.
To recap, if a majority of Jewish casualties in WWII were actually the result of the Allies attempting to starve the Nazi state into submission through siege tactics, then the Allies would have had motive and opportunity to foist upon the world a caricatured distortion of the facts.
Caricatures do not do true honor to the victims.
And if the emerging Jewish state of Israel used such distorted facts to further lobby for a “homeland” (a place where people were already living…non-Jews…for a long time), we could say that “Israel” also had motive and opportunity to participate in this “noble lie” (for different reasons).
But what is most sad is that what I have just written would get me arrested in several countries of the world (mostly in Europe).
We will mention one: France.
I have spoken about the Loi Gayssot in critical terms before.
And I do not think it is a smart piece of legislation.
It is, ironically, a very authoritarian law.
If I understand it correctly, this law (aimed at “Holocaust deniers”) punishes even those who object on critical grounds to any factual aspect of Holocaust “history”.
As we know, history has been wrong before.
And it can be wrong again.
Furthermore, we never close the door on a particular epoch.
For every other event (except the Holocaust), we welcome new research which brings the situation into clearer focus.
The Holocaust is the one period of history which is off limits (verboten) to any sort of skepticism.
And it is this sort of authoritarian attitude of anti-history which will be the unraveling of whatever the liars of history are trying to hide.
Lies are a big part of every world event.
Operators at the lower level just want to cover their butts.
But these white lies can pile up.
And pretty soon the official historiography bears little resemblance to the actual event in question.
Mid-level operators merely want to move up in life.
They want to keep the bigwigs off their backs.
So they condone low-level lies.
And they even concoct some fairly witty stratagems of their own.
And these regional efforts coalesce into inexplicable gumbos of narrative (like the story we have all been given concerning 9/11).
But the real fuckery happens at the high-level.
Here is where everything is a game.
Here is where hubris reigns supreme.
Here is where the Ivy League and the Oxford/Cambridge set conspire in an unholy matrimony of minds to make “a new world”.
These are the minds which, largely, have been so besotted with “logic” that they can no longer entertain the idea of a God or any sort of higher power.
And it is at this level that public relations and social engineering churn out lies which are meant to shape world history.
Lies which are meant to redraw the map.
If the gas chambers did not exist (except in the propagandistic imagination of Allied copy) in any Nazi camp, then it would have likely been a high-level wonk who conceived of such a grand macabre to once and for all paint the Nazis as “pure evil” and the Allies as “beneficent warriors” fighting a “just war”.
So let’s see how censored the Internet is, ok?
As of today, you can still harbor some doubts.
A mathematician doubts.
Bertrand Russell doubted Gottlob Frege.
And Russell was right to doubt.
Logic and mathematics teach us that most “complete, unified” systems eventually fall by the wayside.
That is because they are flawed.
Our knowledge improves.
Some discoveries are truly special, but it is always a process of learning.
The Gayssot Act in France (and other similar legislation in neighboring countries) wants you to take (on faith) the complete accuracy of Holocaust historiography SO FAR.
Such legislation is eager to CLOSE THE BOOK on all nuance and scholarship.
But there is at least one website which seems to harbor healthy doubts about aspects of the Holocaust.
Remember: questioning ANY PART OF THE HOLOCAUST in France is a violation of the Gayssot Act.
Excuse my French, but that is fucked up!
Don’t we want the truth?
If Hillary Clinton was running a child trafficking ring, do we want to know that?
If Donald Trump was colluding with the Russian government to get elected, don’t we want to know that?
If the gas chambers were a fanciful way to paint the Nazis as the ultimate enemies, don’t we want to know that there were (in fact) no gas chambers in any concentration camp?
We want to know.
And we also want to know how bad the Nazis were.
We want to know about babies on bayonets.
We want to know every Jew-hating idea they ever penned or yelled.
Because we do not approve of this Jew hating.
But we will not punish speech.
In our quest to quash the Nazi strain of hatred, we will not become (ourselves) “Nazis”.
Because the Loi Gayssot only encourages people to seek out “taboo” knowledge.
I can’t believe I agree with the scumbag Cass Sunstein on an actual point, but I think I do.
In other words: don’t make the knowledge taboo.
Let the cream rise to the top.
Let the crap sink.
Do not criminalize idiocy.
AND DO NOT EVEN think ABOUT A CHINESE METHOD LIKE REEDUCATION!
So here is the site, dear friends:
Committee for Open Debate on the Holocaust.
Sounds reasonable, right?
Don’t let some shit-stained-pants-wearing talking head deter you from visiting this site.
Remember when CNN told the world that only “they” could report on WikiLeaks?
These tactics are wearing thin.
If the truth is out there (thank you X-Files), then people will find it.
And the frauds will be exposed.
And the genuine articles will be raised up on cheerful arms.
The global media wants you to think that only dumb Arabs and Persians would ever “deny” the Holocaust.
Do some fucking research!
And I fall into the same target.
I tell myself, “Do some fucking research!”
All the time.
Just as it was impractical to get an unbiased assessment of 9/11 when the commissioners were appointed by the Bush administration, so too is it impractical to think that a Jewish (or, God forbid, Israeli) author can give an impartial account of any aspect of the Holocaust.
And yet, this is a conundrum.
For Jews, no period of history is so important.
And I sympathize with the call to “never forget”.
But we must be extremely careful to get right exactly what it is we are to “never forget”.
“Never forget” rings especially hollow in the United States regarding 9/11…because most people have absolutely no deep understanding of that event.
I have done my research on that fateful day.
And everything which led up to it.
And much of what followed.
So in the case of 9/11, “never forget” is meaningless…because the vast majority NEVER KNEW IN THE FIRST PLACE.
Which is the trouble with such campaigns.
The message, then, is “Never forget…what we’ve told you…happened.”
Well, that’s not very bloody comforting!
And the propaganda is pretty transparent.
Which brings us to the “Holocaust industry” and this masterpiece of a film (really): Life is Beautiful.
There is very little propaganda in this film.
There is very little mindless regurgitation of dubious assertions.
But yet it is still there.
And hence my opening diatribe.
First, let me get in one more jab.
Here is something I have actually read.
By Robert Faurisson.
It is called, “The ‘Problem of the Gas Chambers'”.
It is from 1980.
There are 141 pieces by Dr. Faurisson (among many other authors) on the CODOH site.
I have read few of them.
But enough to pique my curiosity.
As I said, it makes me highly suspicious when an obviously brilliant scholar such as Dr. Faurisson is “refuted” solely by ad hominem attacks.
When such is the case, said victim only grows stronger.
And Dr. Faurisson is not attacking the Jews.
He’s attacking history.
Read it for yourself.
To be recursive, he seems to have found a “fatal flaw” in the historiography which predominates in such shite as Schindler’s List.
We don’t need a John Williams swooning violin melody to tell us the truth.
We just need the fucking truth.
Whatever it is.
We don’t need music in our museums to drive home a particular point.
We just need the artifacts.
They must be laid out in a way which allows for logical conclusion.
They must not LEAD the museum-goer to a particular conclusion.
If they do, then we have entered the realm of propaganda.
And we should be made aware of our participation as guinea pigs in such attempted thought control.
You can read about Dr. Faurisson’s struggles against the French government here (in his biography on the CODOH site):
La vita è bella.
It’s a beautiful movie.
Which I saw many times in the theater.
When it came out.
One of the most important and formative films for me as a cinephile.
Roberto Benigni is my favorite actor ever.
And Nicoletta Braschi is wonderful in this film.
Furthermore, Benigni’s film direction is underrated.
The scene, for instance, where he and Sergio Bustric lay in bed is such a lushly-filmed tableau.
I wanted to live in that scene.
Amongst those antiques.
And their hilarious repartee involving Schopenhauer 🙂
But Life is Beautiful is notable mostly as a work of naïveté.
Like Cinema Paradiso.
Instead of Ennio Morricone’s gossamer score, we get Nicola Piovani’s criminally-unavailable musical backing.
[get on that, Spotify!]
There is true magic in this film.
The kiss between Benigni and Braschi under the banquet table.
There is so much Chaplin in this film.
The whole thing starts with a virtual rip of The Great Dictator.
But Benigni tells a new story.
And the details don’t matter.
One death was too many…during World War II.
And one family torn apart…was too many…during the Holocaust.
One of the greatest of all time.
I wasn’t sure I could handle the flood of emotions this film was bound to trigger.
But I went for it.
And it is, truly, a masterpiece.
In the U.S. we know it simply as Cinema Paradiso, but I wish to honor director Giuseppe Tornatore by reviewing it under the Italian title.
This film is full of fear and regret…because it is reminiscence.
Gone long from home.
Many years away from family.
Moreover, there are few films which portray a pure love for cinema quite like this one.
What we have is a mentorship. Alfredo, the mentor…and Toto, the mentee.
There are so many magical shots…so many jewel-like devices of cinematic deftness which make this picture truly special.
When I was a young man, this film taught me the potential of cinema.
And my fear at the time was losing my past.
But now that I have, by the grace of God, returned to my homeland, my fear tonight was reimmersing myself in the beauty of misery.
Or the misery of beauty.
In accounting, they teach you to ignore sunk costs.
But the human psyche still yearns for the one that got away.
We analyze our past decisions.
We lament our judgement.
But the costs of love, the economic costs of love (the totality of what was at stake) cannot be so easily dismissed.
Maybe it was not meant to work out.
But there are some very painful, lonely yearnings which age us like a bottle of scotch.
Perhaps our pain will be someone’s joy.
We cannot live with a “letter never sent”.
But a letter never answered can be so indescribably mournful.
And so we have come back.
Having tried our luck and worked our hands to the bone.
And we praise God for the opportunity to see Alfredo again.
The whole family.
It’s a trade-off.
And lost love still leaves us wistful.
Maybe we don’t understand the reverse culture shock we have been battling.
For several years.
Maybe we are yet too young.
To see our homeland with eyes of clarity.
This is what Philippe Noiret tells Marco Leonardi.
You’re not old enough yet…to be here.
Noiret is really the star of this film.
With his big mustache. And his close-cropped hair.
But none of this would have been possible without the child.
Toto. Salvatore Cascio.
His impish smile. His hunger to learn.
We see a filmmaker in the making of himself.
And while Jacques Perrin is quite special as the grown-up Toto,
there is one key personality I must touch upon.
This actress changed my life.
And I fell in love with her understudy.
Perhaps years later I did the same again.
Those blue eyes always kill you.
But it was when I first saw this. In 1998.
I fell in love.
And it didn’t work out so well.
It was too much.
Romeo and Juliet.
I felt I was lower-class.
I had no confidence.
It is these things which we regret.
How a word could have been different.
How a revelation might have changed history.
But we praise God for Pupella Maggio.
Thank you, God, for your blessings.
This film has made me very emotional.
Because it is a masterpiece.
And we shall sail on.
Into the night sky.
And remember how Ennio Morricone guided our every blessed footstep in our Garden of Eden. Over paths encrusted with tiny diamonds here and there…which would catch the reflection of the moon. We walked the path the best we could.
My oh my. How time does fly.
If you don’t write, you lose your touch.
And anyway, we lose our nerve.
Nerve. This film is all about nerve.
This was the second collaboration between Sergio Leone and Clint Eastwood.
This time, another strong element was added: Lee Van Cleef.
The name may not sound familiar, but if you see this film you will never forget this iconic actor.
In truth, this picture is very similar to the first Leone/Eastwood collaboration.
Most of the novelty here can be found in the director having a third variable (Van Cleef) with which to work.
Gian Maria Volonté is back, but he’s not the same villain he was last time. He is and he isn’t.
Same for Eastwood. The same, but different.
Leone, though, had grown as a filmmaker. Maybe not by leaps and bounds, but there are flashes of brilliance which catch the desert sun differently here than in A Fistful of Dollars.
And why do I insist on the Italian title? Because this really is a sophisticated Western.
In other words, it is foreign to the mainstream of English language movies.
Though the genre is American, the craft is distinctly European.
Klaus Kinski has a relatively minor role in this film as a hunchback.
Really, I would advise starting with A Fistful of Dollars and then moving on to this film.
This one is really for those who couldn’t get enough the first time around.
I count myself among those.
In other words, this film does not necessarily “stand alone” very well unless you have the experience of A Fistful of Dollars under your belt.
I should really mention Ennio Morricone. He is, without doubt, one of the greatest film composers to ever live. Witness, for instance, his deft compositional touch as he weaves the film score around the sound of a musical pocket watch which is chiming during a tense standoff. There is a real magic–a synergy between Morricone and Leone.
Though I could dissect this movie as a precursor to the Reaper vs. Predator drones, I’ll leave that for another time. Though I could let the title, For a Few Dollars More, lead me into a diatribe about the Greek debt crisis and the venal German/IMF response, I shall leave that for other political film critics reviewing Spaghetti Westerns this week.
What we have here is a movie. I’m tired. I don’t want a war.