https://open.spotify.com/episode/4v3TBFusAmjBoEoohqosA5?si=2f2e773b0e214b8c
Cinematic Music with Pauly Deathwish
Season 1 Episode 3
Tag Archives: Queen
Cinematic music 3/29 [2022)
https://share.stationhead.com/THx9x4jXUBO
“Vita Nostra”–Ennio Morricone
“Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin'”–Journey
“Poses”–Rufus Wainwright
“You Got the Silver”–The Rolling Stones
“Chain Letter”–Todd Rundgren
“In the Air Tonight”–Phil Collins
“San Diego Serenade”–Tom Waits
“Bohemian Rhapsody”–Queen
“Tabula rasa: 2. Silentium: Senza moto”–Arvo Pärt
“River Deep – Mountain High”–Ike & Tina Turner
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1kttJTB325VlO2XoR6yviH?si=26ab905f8cec4777
bucolic [2021)
It starts just like Charlotte Gainsbourg.
5:55.
Air.
Nigel Godrich.
But there is something different.
A shruti box?
A little distorto guitar.
Ah, yes.
Chuchotements.
Françoise Hardy.
A little Yo La Tengo.
Built to Spill.
Guitar carries it for a second.
Good lyrics.
All mood.
And then into an Amon Düül II warble.
Like Marc Bolan.
Jim Carrey.
Most annoying sound in the world.
Into Pink Floyd.
David Gilmour.
Circa The Wall.
Strange sadness.
Almost a premonition of impending doom.
Calm before the storm.
J. Spaceman telephony.
Floating with no highs and no lows.
All mids.
Strong opening track.
Very slow-moving.
Luxurious.
Immediate Delgados shift.
Paul Savage.
Pauly Deathwish.
Glasgow effect.
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.
Welsh.
Expansive.
Strings open up.
Hate.
More Fridmann.
Pointillism.
Schoenberg.
Timbre.
Richard James.
GZM.
Beethoven.
Another Welshman.
John Cale.
Orchestral bass that Lou loved.
This guy’s a bastard.
Jaded.
Hurt.
Is this a breakup album?
I thought the last one was a breakup album?
Ahhh…
Into Gorwel Owen.
1968.
Floyd.
Atom.
Mad cow.
The last GZM album.
Rockfield.
Bohemian.
String band.
Money never runs out.
Cheap air organ.
Tubes?
Fan.
A very apropos album title.
Woody.
Tobacco.
Spring water Scotch.
And then the Great Reset arrives.
Like a fucking spaceship.
Dark shit.
What is this glitch business?
Thom Yorke blasts upon the scene.
Drums James Brown.
Good groove.
Savvy.
Whoa!
Marching band.
Drumline.
Snares.
Caught by Lee “Scratch”.
Guitar all mangled.
Melodies solid.
Mogwai?
Bert Jansch out of fucking nowhere.
Definitely Lips.
Pet Sounds.
Track rejected by Bond franchise.
Convincing.
Acoustic to electric.
Now it’s Serge.
Requiem.
Stereolab.
Break beat.
Absolutely boffo.
BOF.
More Brian Wilson.
Van Dyke Parks.
Phil Spector.
High Llamas.
Still a sadness.
That the old world is passing away.
FUCK!!!
Right into some Leonard Cohen shit!
Scott Walker.
How the FUCK was this recorded?
Sounds like 2″ tape.
Question:
how has this Pauly Deathwish released three albums in two months?
I can’t even keep up with this guy.
Mercury Rev.
Deserter’s Songs.
Levon Helm.
Chamberlin.
Mellotron?
Like a Christmas album.
See You on the Other Side.
David Fricke.
A review in the liner notes.
“Everlasting Arm”.
Definite vibe.
Record pillaging wizard.
Baritone.
Lots of fucking glockenspiel on this record.
But it’s nice.
Like Ennio Morricone.
Cinema Paradiso.
Mandolins.
Jackie Gleason.
Dean Martin.
Herb Alpert.
Tchaikovsky.
Again with sugar plum.
Slick!
Very light.
Chiaroscuro.
Fresher than the sweetness in water.
Hearing Dungen.
IV Thieves.
Makes sense.
“Frenchie” Smith.
Dig CV.
Light, British, airy.
Good hook.
Hooky.
Is this the single?
A little neo-psych Hendrix moment.
It’s definitely GZM.
Repetition until transcend.
Stereolab first album.
Not looped.
Manuel.
Carpenters.
Messiaen.
Definitely some breakup here.
Sonic Youth.
Sister.
Experimental.
Thurston.
Lots of drum machine.
Drum and bass.
Panning.
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.
Ear fooling.
This is COMPLEX music.
Mixes sound polished.
Clarity.
Some Chinese stuff.
Noise floor fucked for the first time ever.
Bacon?
Rollerskate Skinny.
It’s THAT good.
Shoulder Voices.
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.
Ambiance.
Negative space.
More Beach Boys vibes.
70s.
Sad.
Bathrobe.
But mentally sharp.
A spark of genius.
A little bluegrass.
Bill Monroe.
Dock Boggs.
The old world is passing away.
Jonny Greenwood.
Georges Bizet.
Live forever.
Nonesuch.
Elektra.
Hoyt Ming.
Incredible String Band.
Wales, Scotland.
Back and forth.
And across to Ireland.
Oh, no.
There’s the single.
“Makes Me Wanna Stay in Bed”.
Emma Pollock.
Hate is all you need.
Coming in from the cold.
New Radicals.
Delayed bass from The Wall.
Pavement.
Spoon.
Good fucking song!
Eisteddfod.
All Is Dream.
Hard following up.
Unenviable.
Emma Pollock solo.
With Alun Woodward singing.
The Great Eastern.
New Spiritualized.
Banjo.
Let It Come Down.
Abbey Road.
Coldplay.
A Rush of Blood to the Head.
This bloke is serious as fuck.
Sad eyes.
I’m sensing a Jandek promotional strategy.
Final track Richter.
Ravel.
Emperor.
Philip Glass.
Conlon Nancarrow.
City/country dichotomy.
Urban/rural.
Urban encroaching.
Something felt.
Big symphony night.
Excitement of New York Phil.
The fucking french horns!
Automation.
A story in dynamics.
Lesson.
A folk album.
bucolic.
Pauly Deathwish.
iTunes.
Spotify.
-PD
Wayne’s World [1992)
When I was a kid, film was something you put in a camera.
Movies were movies.
Cinema didn’t really exist in my vocabulary.
There were no connotations between these three words.
Film, movie, cinema.
And so this was a movie I grew up on.
On which I grew up.
It was many years before I took Churchill’s admonitions about grammar seriously.
Grammar grammar.
Not film grammar.
And so here we have a very fine, enjoyable film.
Probably not coming to the Criterion Collection (unless it’s April Fool’s).
The milieu is rock and roll.
This film taught me a lot.
[Back in the days when I thought “alot” was a word.]
“Where’s von Stroheim?”
“He’s alot.”
Alas…
I just didn’t know.
I didn’t know sparkling wine from Dom Perignon.
Didn’t know Cantonese from Mandarin.
And lots of other subtle shadings which I’ve since come to appreciate.
This was probably Penelope Spheeris’ shining moment.
Unless you’re a fan of punk rock (and I am).
She did a hell of a job directing this unlikely hit.
Wayne’s World grossed nine-times its budget.
Those are early-Bond numbers.
The sequel (not directed by Spheeris) barely broke even.
Oops…
Kinda like when The Strokes fired Gordon Raphael.
But I guy dress…
Mike Myers was wonderful here.
29 years old.
Looking fit and really nailing his part.
There’s something very natural about the comedy of Wayne’s World.
It’s far less stilted than even the best of the Austin Powers franchise (that being the first installment…FYI).
The immensely-talented Dana Carvey is good as Wayne’s painfully-awkward sidekick Garth Algar. The role doesn’t really make the best use of Carvey’s talents, but sometimes you gotta suck it up for a payday.
[Like the Suck-Kut, for instance.]
Wayne’s World had its own lexicon…patois…parlance. Schwing!
It’s a little racy.
Wonder how Claudia Schiffer felt to be reified thusly?
Guess she should have thought about that when she started hawking jeans.
There’s really no escaping Lara Flynn Boyle recently (thank God!).
She has the worst role of all.
But I suppose Twin Peaks wasn’t exactly the same pay grade as Seinfeld.
She wasn’t selling out, she was buying in.
Indeed, I don’t doubt Morgan Spurlock pulled the kernel of inspiration for his The Greatest Movie Ever Sold from the sequence in which Wayne gobbles Pizza Hut, Doritos, and Pepsi while Garth is pimped out in Reebok gear.
Somebody’s interminable band name list got put to good use…
Crucial Taunt?!?
I must say, that detail escaped me as a kid.
But that was before I had a brief (burn out, not fade away) career as a rock musician.
We didn’t know Queen. We didn’t know Kierkegaard. We didn’t know Hendrix.
It was an exceptional experience on many levels.
As an impressionable youth.
Rob Lowe (a very strong comedic talent) has to play the yuppie prick in this vehicle.
Chris Farley has a memorable (yet all-too-brief) cameo as a security guard.
Farley and director Spheeris would reunite a few years later for Black Sheep.
Brian Doyle-Murray gets the treatment in his interview.
[“This man has no penis.” Must-watch TV.]
Multiple endings…
Remarkable ingenuity.
Can’t say I’m familiar with such Situationist play in even the most erudite of art films.
But of course the gleeful bathos of the Scooby-Doo ending brings us back down to Earth.
Tia Carrere is really charming as the heroine.
Colleen Camp (remember her from Bruce Lee’s “almost” Game of Death?) has a crap role.
At least she helped Cassandra Wong learn English by way of the Police Academy movies.
Meat Loaf as doorman.
Ed O’Neill as murderous donut shop manager.
Donna Dixon as Garth’s dream woman (remember the babe from Spies Like Us? Yeah, that one.).
And Alice Cooper!!!
Some history of Milwaukee and socialist mayors.
You gotta love rock and roll 🙂
-PD
Les Enfants terribles [1950)
The past is hidden.
My friend.
You must find the magical words.
Which fit like teeth in combs.
A lock clicks with greasy precision.
A marvel of craftsmanship.
Two siblings in love.
A prolonged insult.
From the start it is as a homoerotic phantasm.
But that is the illusion of bent gender.
And genre.
What genre?
No, once again sui generis.
We would expect nothing less from Jean Cocteau.
The history of cinema.
Begins with luminaries.
Trying their hands.
Not yet taboo.
The world has not yet grown up.
Cynically, it could be said Cocteau had enjoyed the green hour a few too many evenings by 1950.
Crepuscule with absinthe.
But the truth is more beautiful.
Play the game…everybody play the game.
Just a Queen lyric haunting the childhood dreams of Paul and Lise.
It sounds like Liz, but looks better in the French.
Americans, take note!
You must love French cinema.
It is not for everyone.
John Milton.
Not for everyone.
Even Shaky William is acquired like marmite.
Or green olives.
Foie gras.
This train is the height of luxury.
Bound for glory.
Such concision of expression from Cocteau.
And such economy of means from director Jean-Pierre Melville.
Don’t worry about mispronouncing.
Here’s a French bloke who named himself after an American author (Herman).
Really!
It was the postwar influence on France.
The death of French cinema.
Slowly, as in a car crash.
Now they worship Tarantino.
Quel dommage!
Mais…what’s the damage?
It is Villon come full-circle.
The ladies of Paris.
And on through Baudelaire’s lady: Paris.
Man becomes woman.
Voila!
It is a tricky story.
As when Lise is drenched in milk.
Not even for Technicolor Singin’ in the Rain.
Just for the texture.
Not color.
Renée Cosima.
Real name: Boudin.
Like a sausage cased in a condom.
And Cosima Wagner.
Real name: Liszt.
And Franz Liszt.
Real name: Liszt Ferencz.
And Ferenc Fricsay.
Well, you get the point…
Renée with her beautiful, wide jaw.
And Nicole Stéphane trying to perfect her Greek profile.
A clothespin on the bridge of her nose.
[Which I call ghetto acupuncture. Works great!]
And Édouard Dermit is not bad.
But the real star is Stéphane.
She.
Haggard from the world-weary beginning.
Funny and annoying.
Continuous repartee with Dermit.
All slang and no manners.
She is unlovably lovable until she does the expected.
She was no hero.
All along.
An antiheroine.
And it is anticlimax which we should feel.
When, like a cinder-smeared Gilda, she spits at the world one last time.
You can say they didn’t know.
Any better.
But their dream was more real than our reality.
-PD
paulydeathwish 