So here we go, my Top 5 Albums. If you don't have any or all of these albums hit up a music store and treat yourself. These won’t disappoint you.
FIVE
I and Love and You - The Avett Brothers
There are just so many beautiful moments on this album, certainly too many to mention. These brothers know how to play music, how to write and how to appropriately be all manly and sensitive. Lyrics from this album will make an appearance in my Top 5 Lyrics. Pour yourself your favourite drink, find a porch at sunset and ill leave the rest up to you.
FOUR
Room for Squares – John Mayer
This is a very good album and captures the beginning of a true musical talent. Say what you like about Mayer as a celebrity, he can write amazing music and play guitar. This is a snapshot of Mayer before he started dating celebrities, saying dumb things in Playboy Magazine, and getting followed by hoards of photographers, when he was a nerd and nerds were cool. Probably the best example of intelligent pop you’ll find in the last 10 years. So hop in your car on one rainy Sunday afternoon and drive up the Adelaide Hills for a coffee and you’ll understand what I mean.
THREE
Recovering the Satellites – Counting Crows
The follow up album to the hugely successful August and Everything After, Recovering the Satellites, is the less appreciated album by this incredible band. By the band’s own admission they went too electric, but considering this album came out during the wave of Seattle grunge this is what some of those early grunge albums should have been. For me this is the album of that era, sorry Pearl Jam 10. Crank this loud, open some beers, fire up the BBQ and invite those you love over – the end.
TWO
Grace – Jeff Buckley
Such a voice, such a songwriter, such a talent. What makes this album so unique is the various tones and passion in Buckley’s voice, it’s like dripping honey. Light some candles, open your favourite bottle of red wine and get your pensive on.
Listening to this album is a meditation.
ONE
Plans – Death Cab for Cutie (Thankyou Shane Shepherd)
Easily my most favourite album of all time. The song writing of this band, specifically Ben Gibbard is a real pleasure to listen too – an artist at his peak. Listening to this album is like listening to literature infused with melody. The first track “Marching Bands of Manhattan” will draw you in and the rest of the album will keep you while “Follow you into the dark’ will break your heart. Put the headphones in, grab a coffee and wander the streets of your favourite city – see what I mean?
There is no better film to watch on a rainy Friday night than the 2000 classic, High Fidelity staring John Cusack and Jack Black. This film is based on the 1995 book of the same name written by Nick Hornby.
I have just started reading this book and am thoroughly enjoying it. In recounting his top 5 breakups and the ensuing related pop songs, Nick writes…
“What came first the music or the misery?”
Literary and rock ‘n’ roll gold. So in light of this book that I am devouring ( I sat at Cibo last Sunday reading for a few hours, and laughed so loud the guy next to me asked me what was so funny….) I am going to share with the world my own personal “Top 5 of all times.”
Certainly not my Top 5 Breakups of all time, that’s just a little emotional and this blog is cry your eyes out heartbreak free.
No I will share my top 5 of the following:
Music Lyrics
Songs
Albums
Bands
Literature
Films
Quotes on life
Adelaide Coffee locations
First date locations (this is meant to be ironic as I neither date nor even know what one is these days…)
I will add a slight disclaimer – these are my own opinions. Albums, songs, movies all that mean something to me may mean nothing to you. That’s the beauty. So as you read I ask you to post your own top 5 and we can take it from there.
So keep an eye on your Facebook and Twitter feeds, ill be posting my relative tops 5 over the next few weeks.
So stay tuned and come with me as I discover what did come first – the music or the misery.
In Wahsingont, DC, at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about an hour. During that time, approxiamtely 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars.
Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theatre in Boston where the seats averaged $200 each to hear him play the same music. The is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing in the DC Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.
There is beauty in the every day - it's just a matter of finding it.
I find the world of “singledom” hilarious. The other day I had a life moment that would be unbelievable if it weren’t so true. I am definitely going to put this in my next work of fiction as its serendipitous nature colours it overtly romantic, yet entirely ridiculous.
This scene takes place in a furniture store where I was shopping for a new bed. Now before I tell you this little literary diddy, I will tell you the song I was listening to at the time while I was shopping. I like to put in the headphones and listen to music when I shop as it sends a non-verbal message to all shop assistants “don’t talk to me.”
It’s a great little Death Cab for Cutie tune called “Your new twin sized bed” and these were the lyrics I was listening too. Now I assure you I didn’t plan this, my iPhone was set to ‘shuffle’, and this song just came on as I approached the bed section of the store. I listened with a wry smile. Read the lyrics, it gives killer context.
You look so defeated lying there
In your new twin sized bed
With a single pillow
Underneath your single head
I guess you decided that that old queen
Was more space than you would need
And now it's in the alley behind your apartment
With a sign that says it's free
And I hope you have more luck with this than me
You used to think that someone
Would come along
And lay beside you in the space
That they belong
But the other side of the mattress
And box spring stayed like new
And what's the point of holding onto
What never gets used?
Other than a sick desire for self-abuse
And I try not to worry
But you've got me terrified
It's like you're in some kind of hurry
To say goodbye, to say goodbye
To say goodbye
You look so defeated lying there
In your new twin sized bed
You look so defeated lying there
In your new twin sized bed
So what I would like to do now is right the little conversation I had with the shop assistant below. It’s not word for word but you will get the general gist.
Written in the first person narrative for ease of story telling.
I caught her eye as she approached and took out my ear phones. Despite my body language I actually wanted to engage.
“Hi can I help you at all?” She spoke with a pleasant smile.
“Yeh I’m looking for a new bed. I’m thinking probably a queen?” I squashed my headphones into my pocket.
“Ok well what sort of bed do you have now?”
“Well I’ve got just a double but I think it might be time to upgrade and be a real man that sleeps on a real bed.”
I smiled and she laughed. I can’t help but flirt a little with shop assistants even if this one was old enough to be my mother. She started walking over to a display and I followed.
“So is this for you and your partner?”
“No just me and my single head.” At this point I smile to myself because I think I’m being cleaver at quoting the lyrics that were humming in my head a few minutes ago, but they only existed in my mind and I realise that I’m just a big fat melodic nerd. She paused a moment like she was trying to find appropriate words.
“Well we do have some really good specials on single beds and some doubles.” I pause and remember the manners my mother taught me.
“No that’s ok I’m keen for a queen size bed.”
“To sleep in on your own?” Her face looked perplexed like the information wasn’t making sense, it contorted and I thought she looked a little frightening, kind of like the wicked witch in Wizard of Oz when she first appears to Dorothy.
“What’s wrong with sleeping on my own?”
“But do you really need all that room?” Her voice gave a slight inflection at the end of the sentence. At this point I make the decision that I will put my hard earned cash elsewhere. I also decide to leave my manners at the door.
“Hang on what’s wrong with my being a single dude sleeping in a queen sized bed?” I added ‘dude’ to soften my sharp tone.
“Well nothing I just thought it would make you feel worse.” My face now contorts as my mind can’t compute what she is saying. I then release this is a battle of Gen X v’s a boomer, my superior post modern, pop culture referenced wit will reign supreme. I really should drop in a Joss Whedon word or Buffy quote but that would be lost on her.
“Feel worse about what? Sleeping alone?” We’re not in Kansas anymore.
“I’ll have you know I like sleeping alone and stretching out like a starfish. Maybe I like to sleep in diagonals and be the long side of an obtuse triangle?” I said this all with a smile. She looked at me with that same perplexed face, like when Dorothy discovers that the Wizard is just Bert Newton behind a curtain.
“Ok well then, that’s fine. Ok so this bed comes in a package with a side table and drawers.”
She then rapidly changes the subject and continues on with her sales pitch. I place the headphones back in my ears and walk out the store. The music plays and the below lyrics ring out.
And what’s the point of holding on to what never gets used.
I got in the car and laughed my ass of all the way home. There is nothing like assumptions that you can make in one foul swoop. I love the feeling of surprising people. They look you up and down and say “no it’s ok we got it, we have you sussed.” I seem to get that all the time, people making summations based on limited information. There is a lot of fun of taking a person back to a point of knowing nothing about me, so that I can re-paint their picture. I think that's why I blog and write...a constant need to explain myself.
I think this little conversation taught me that life is life, and each stage has its purpose and beauty. And even if the cover of the book that you’re judging is a fashionably dressed, squishy around the edges bald, four eyed unclean shaven thirty something dude with great taste in music that deep down I’m like a transformer.
There’s more than meets the eye.
So from now on, I ain’t making any judgements on anyone, because you just don’t know what melodies are humming in their heads.
Check out the song “Your new twin sized bed” below.
Black Swan is the difference between a movie and a film.
A movie will entertain you, keep you interested and give you some great discussion points. A film however, will draw you in, entice you, impress you, take you on a journey…
Black Swan will be remembered in the upper echelon of great films. Not just because of Natalie Portman’s engaging and enthralling performance but also for Darren Aronofsky’s direction and his ability to take you on to the stage and make you fall in love with Ballet. As in The Wrestler, Aronofsky manages to squeeze every ounce of substance of his lead actor - Natalie Portman shines.
Portman plays the talented but troubled Nina who wins the lead as the Swan Queen in Swan Lake. The already fragile Nina slowly looses her mind as paranoia, a possessive mother, and the mounting pressure leading to opening night take their toll. Add to this the beautiful Mila Kunis (Lilly) as the threat to her role and Black Swan takes you on a scintillating, mysterious and often terrifying journey and look into the world of professional ballet.
Portman rightly deserves her Golden Globe. Not just for her acting ability but her dancing scenes are incredible. Hollywood is riddled with stories of actors going through painstaking training to learn skills for a certain role, and there is none more impressive than Portman. Actors that immerse themselves in their role – Anthony Hopkins in “Silence of the Lambs”, De Niro in “Raging Bull” and Natalie Portman in “Black Swan.” She is incredibly convincing as a world-class ballet dancer, with seemingly minimal body doubles and direction that contains extended wide angled frames showing the full extend of her dancing ability for this role.
There are a few surprises such as the great performance by Barbara Hershey as the domineering, possessive mother, a brief appearance from Wynona Ryder as the ballet star nearing the end of her career. The uncredited star of this film is Ballet itself as it seamlessly joins with the wonderful direction to make you feel like you on the stage itself.
This film is like watching live Opera but without the Italian singing and with a lot less vibrato - dramatic, ethereal and beautiful.
“Nobody cares if you can't dance well.
Just get up and dance.”
~Dave Barry
Whatever the reason is you’re there. You’ve paid your money, told a few friends and maybe - depending on your initial level of enthusiasm – you’ve watched a few videos online. You have a story, you’re at a particular stage of life, and you’re on the dance floor staring at a room filled with other dubious faces ready to start your first Salsa class. You’re in a room filled with people who have all arrived at the same destination but have come from vastly different origins. Maybe you saw Salsa on TV and thought it was something you had to try; or you stumbled across an online video; you’ve come out of a terrible life experience or relationship and are looking for some confidence; you could be looking for that special someone you feel you’ve never found or simply looking to increase your networks. Or maybe none of this applies to you, you just like dancing.
Whatever the reason you find yourself holding hands with a complete stranger as you both count one, two, three – five, six, seven under your breath in an attempt to get your feet and hands to do what your brain is demanding. Believe me I can relate, learning to dance can be no easy feat. Those of you reading this article that are obsessed with dancing and are out most nights doing your thang may have forgotten how intimidating it can be. My story on how I stumbled across Salsa is really no different to most people. One night a good friend invited me to some Salsa party where I was assured there would be “a lot of honeys and some great music.” Well both were in attendance. As I stood on the side of the dance floor looking at smiling hands and feet flying all over the place I suddenly felt as though I was missing out on some genuine fun. Not to mention the impressive live band that were simply hypnotising. A few months later I was watching YouTube videos and signing up to my first beginner’s class. When I first started taking lessons the thought of trying to take what I was learning in class to the social dance floor was accompanied by my own self confidence pointing its finger and laughing at me as though it was an insurmountable task. It wasn’t just the dance that was intimidating. My headspace was not well, I was not well, my confidence was at an all time low and I was reeling from a significant negative life experience. I was looking for a life raft and I found it in quick, quick slow. Fast forward 18 months, countless classes, the occasional workshop, new friends, various pairs of dance shoes and there is rarely an event I don’t try and get to filled with people I know and ladies who I love to dance with. Not to mention some genuinely good people.
Now let me be clear right from the beginning; I am no expert when it comes to the dance floor - far from it. But in the time that I’ve been learning to shake my thang, I have learned some rather invaluable lessons – all of them the hard way – and being a narcissistic, out of work freelance writer who often feels the need to sit for hours at a keyboard to keep my brain from exploding, I felt the need to share with those of you who are mustering the courage to hit the social floor. So in this brief collection of words take heed that what you are reading is a collection of hints and tips taken directly from a dance nerd who learned the hard way. Oh and all the lads out there, some of the things you will read are taken directly from some of the many conversations I have had with some of Adelaide’s most beautiful dancers (looks to the sky and day dreams a little). Oh and ladies anything directed to you will be an attempt to introduce you to the male psyche when it comes to dancing – hard I know but it does exist. Ok lads lets go, (ladies still read):
A friend sent me this article this week, and I am still giggling like a school girl. I'm sure this was a Seinfield spisode.
For all intensive purposes
To what extent does our grasp of grammar affect our chance of romance?
Comedian Mark Butler investigates.
I recently broke up with a girlfriend because she misused an apostrophe. Yes, I know it’s not a capital offence to write “two bottle’s of wine” in an email, but this minor grammatical blunder irked me just enough to pull out of that night’s barbecue. Some relationships break down because one partner is too possessive; ours ended because the two bottles were not.
Obviously this was not the only slip-up this girl (let’s call her Je’s’sica) made during our brief relationship, but the “bottles incident”, as I now call it, was the straw that broke the camel’s back. There was a your/you’re episode in a love letter that left me loveless, there were double negatives crammed into conversations that turned me right off, and there were countless text messages strewn with errors which, in hindsight, were probably written deliberately to wind me up. Basically, the relationship was destined to fail because I care about grammar and she, apparently, CUDNT CARELESS.
I didn’t care so much when I was a teenager. Growing up in a coal-mining community in the north of England, it was difficult enough to find a girl who could speak in full sentences, let alone in grammatically correct ones. I took what I could get, and this often meant me putting up with clauses enclosed by “like” and “intit” in the hope of copping a feel behind the bus shelter. In those days, the most desirable quality in a girl was not her grasp of grammar; it was her willingness to go behind bus shelters.
But then came university in the south of England where I was surrounded by young women who could construct sentences without fillers. They all spoke properly, like BBC newsreaders, and they all mocked my Northern knack of truncating the “to” and omitting the definite article in sentences about me “going t’ pub”. Suddenly it was my grammar that was under the spotlight, and I knew I would have to pick up my game if I hoped to attract such sophisticates.
So I went t’ library and buried myself in a big book of grammar with a penguin on it, studying all the things that my middle school English teacher would probably have taught me had she not always been popping out for fags during lessons. I learnt about subjunctives, superlatives, conditionals and participles. I studied predicates, prepositions, pronouns and proper nouns. I learnt so much about language that I was able to crawl confidently from my study cocoon and proudly unfold my grammatical wings. I even learnt how to create butterfly-related metaphors, albeit clichéd ones.
But this newfound knowledge didn’t get me laid. In fact, it probably had the opposite effect. I became convinced everyone could benefit from my wisdom and I thought nothing of pointing out where pretty girls had wrongly used adjectives instead of adverbs. I honestly thought I was helping; they genuinely thought I was a dickhead. We were both right. But my chance of romance was slipping faster than Australian school standards, and I had to learn to keep my mouth more shut, more often. My crusade had come to an end.
It seems it is not possible to point out grammatical gaffes and still expect to sleep with the person who made them. Having good grammar is sexy, but the highlighting of others’ mistakes is a passion-killer, a cold shower on any conversation. People like to be told how smart they are, not that “for all intensive purposes” is a malapropism. No one likes to be told that “fastly” is not a word; if they really cared, they would have figured it out by now.
So what do language pedants like you and me do if we want to be loved? (I am assuming that you are a pedant since you have read this far into the article; everyone else stopped reading after missing the clever word play at the end of the first paragraph.) Do we just let our partners get away with syntactical murder? No, we do not. We explain to them that our grammatical nitpicking is a symptom of an obscure mental illness. We tell them that grammatical mistakes bring on anxiety attacks in us. We tell them that if they truly loved us, they would stop using “could of” in third conditional sentences. We do not drop our standards; we help them to raise theirs.
Je’s’sica, however, had more problems raising her standards than she did the hem of her skirt, and it was with great regret that I had to end it. Yes, she had great legs, an angelic face, and at least two bottles of wine, but these things were only going to take her so far; a grammar geek like me needs all the boxes ticked. She sent me a text message after we broke up, after I told her that it was me and not her, after I lied about me not being ready for another serious relationship. ITS SHAME COZ WE CUD OF BIN GUD 2GTHR. X. We all know that I did the right thing.
Mark Butler will be performing his new comedy show, Grammar Don’t Matter on a First Date, at the Adelaide Fringe Festival.
