House music

I must be getting old because the new Crowded House album, Time on Earth, sounds about the freshest, most contemporary, abundant album I've heard since Kings of Leon's epic earlier in the year. The video for new single Don't Stop Now is astonishing. It oozes the sort of art school cool you associate with a band that has nothing left to prove.

Self and the City

I don't usually do personal posts. Not my thing. Not the purpose of the blog either. But just recently I've been feeling strange. London has got bigger, and I feel smaller. In the movie theatre, in a gallery, in a bar...I've been noticing that there are literally hundreds of people on their own. It's a city of isolated individuals. And the means to interact, or more precisely the forums within which interaction used to take place - church, community, marriage even -are at their weakest in a generation. It's not my imagination. People are wandering around, wanting to meet people, but they don't know how to. Where do you go to meet intelligent, thoughtful, hopeful individuals? Nihilism, alcoholism and obsession are the bi-products of individuals losing the balance enforced by cooperation and companionship. Londoners are notoriously hard to get to know. And so they know nobody, retreating into a life of cultural feasting as a means of giving meaning to it all. It makes it an interesting place to live. But I'm not sure it makes it a good place to live.

Book of the year (so far)

A word on an absolutely astonishing new novel by Don DeLillo, Falling Man. American fiction has struggled to come to terms with the psychological and emotional dislocation caused by the trauma of 9/11. Exploring the tragedy through fiction seemed superfluous, self-indulgent and also largely impossible given how raw the terror continues to feel to this day. Yet DeLillo has written perhaps the first 9/11 novel that has been able to find the words to describe the violence and horror and make some sense of it all. The prose is breathtakingly beautiful in parts as the novel begins in the dust-filled moonscape of Ground Zero and charts the impact of the fall of the towers on the lives of a group of New Yorkers. Is it possible for literature to be cathartic? I don't know. But Falling Man suggests that while buildings fell and lives were shattered, there is something that endures in the human spirit. And American literature is beginning to play its part in exploring the pain and by so doing reducing it.

Grown up cinema

With cinemas nation wide about to be overwhelmed by pirates and gurning Keith Richards impressions, someone somewhere has been smart enough to release Jindabyne in an effort to provide alternative cinema-going for the majority of sentient homo sapiens. The plot is murky: a dead aboriginal girls turns up in the river during a fishing trip and rather than raising the alarm immediately the boys tie her up in the river and continue fishing for another day. Cue revulsion by the indigenous population, small-town outrage and a whole host of unanswered questions about why they would do such a thing. All this is set against a backdrop of a marriage between Gabriel Byrne and an impressive Laura Linney that is slowly falling apart. The film is not without its flaws -- it tries to tackle far too many issues at once -- but director Ray 'Lantana' Lawrence nonetheless reminds us that there remains space for serious, thought-provoking, adult cinema today.

Blair. Best.

So today was the day. The End. Or at least the beginning of it. Blair announces his intention to resign on 27 June 2007. PM for ten years, Labour leader for thirteen. Diana, Kosovo, Iraq, Olympics to the everyman. BoE independence, a minimum wage, SureStart, and record economic growth to the politico. In a world where political careers rarely end in success, the best you can hope for is an acquiescence on the part of the population. And a poll in today's Times shows that 44% of the population think he did a good job. 44%. After ten years. That's higher than Labour's share of the vote in 1997. Unashamedly centrist, with political instincts second to none, Blair was an original, unique. He had a political in tray more complex than any leader has ever faced. And he coped. He coped very well indeed in the circumstances. In fact, he made rather a good fist of it. And he did it with a certain style don't you think? The best leader we've ever had? Better than Thatcher? Better even than Churchill? You know it. And it was in our time.

Loney, Dear

Album of the week is Loney, Dear's Loney, Noir. If you're thinking that last sentence had too many commas in it, then bare with me. Loney, Dear is a quirky Scandinavian called Emil Svanangen who produces folksy, upbeat melodies that remind me a bit of Sufjan Stevens (how often do i say that? Rather a lot I fear) mixed with a bit of Gomez. Tracks are multi-layered and often wander off in completely unexpected directions. Catch him at the ICA on May 24.

Chocaholic

Headed down to The Menier Chocolate Factory this weekend to see Chris Hampton's Total Eclipse, his 1968 play about the intense, doomed relationship between Rimbaud and Verlaine. I have to admit, before the performance I knew little about Rimbaud other than Bob Dylan liked his stuff. But Paul Miller's revival succeeds in showing the opposing directions from which Rimbaud and Verlaine approached writing. Rimbaud is all teenage angst and rebellion, Verlaine a sort of wife-beating masochist. It was interesting stuff. But it was the venue that lingered in the memory. A utilitarian performance space has real atmosphere, and the bar and adjoining cafe are both excellent. Well worth checking out.

The Everyday Profound

Joshua Ferris' debut novel, Then We Came To The End, is a thoughtful, engrossing study of office life. Written in the plural first person (in other words, 'we'), it considers the emergence of the all too familiar group mentality that office life seems to foster, usually in opposition to some hapless individual who doesn't quite fit. Full of dark humour and profound insights into the risk/reward calculation that leads many of us to spend our entire lives in offices and jobs we care little about but without the courage to pursue our dreams, Then We Came To The End hints at some fundamental truths about the sorts of lives we lead in the noughties. We all know a lot of office life is a monumental waste of time and resources. Ferris' novel suggests that if we just had the guts to walk a different path we will find the sense of fulfillment we're looking for.

This is it

Album of the week is Kate Walsh's Tim's House, a record of sunny wistfulness. Sparse in its production qualities but with a certain honest directness that surpasses many of the acoustic bores out there at the moment, Tim's House is perfect for the summer sun.

Close to Home

Head down to the ICA (or whever else you can find it) and see Close To Home, directed by Dalis Hager and Vidi Bilu. This funny-sad tale of two Israeli girls performing their military service in Jerusalem interweaves the personal and the political as Smadar and Mirit, the two protagonists, are confronted with the street-level tension and fear that pervades the streets they patrol.

Taking the Mickey

Album of the week is Modest Mouse's We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank, a jangly, guitar-driven grower. Part Sufjan Stevens, part early REM, the album has reached Number One in the States and deservedly so. Stand out tracks include Parting of the Sensory, Little Motel and Fire It Up. Mature music, intelligent lyrics, and a grown-up sound that has benefited from former Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr joining the group, WWDBTSES is proof that while he may elect an illiterate president, the musical taste of the American remains admirable.

Bitter pill

Anthony Neilson's new play, The Wonderful World of Dissocia, on at the Royal Court, is an enthralling, ethereal journey. We are confronted with an Alice in Wonderland dream scape of touchstone characters (Scapegoats, Insecurity Guards and Dungaree-wearing Musketeers) that turns into a sobering tale of the desperation of chemical dependency. Neilson, something of the enfant terrible of British theatre (although not quite to the degree he thinks) offers a witty, genuinely comedic script that lures the viewer into believing - and enjoying - the fantastical world of Dissocia, before forwarding a jarring, bleach-white vision of medical rehabilitation. Christine Entwisle is superb in the lead role as Lisa. This is a genuinely different take on what theatre should aim to achieve. And with Mendes announcing he will direct an uninspiring trio of plays at the Old Vic - Hamlet and The Cherry Orchard among them - Neilson reminds us that there are alternatives.

The Ties That Bind

Those with a mere £15 to spend and a spare couple of hours should head to The Royal Court before April 7 to see Lucy Caldwell's arresting play Leaves. Set against the backdrop of The Troubles the play deals with the sense of shock, anger, confusion and isolation caused by a family suicide attempt. Unanswered questions and the confusing twist of cause and effect combine with touches of humour to create a deeply privileged insight into the darker side of being a family that we all recognise. Caldwell's first play bodes well for the future.

Kings Indeed

Funny thing cultural relativism. It's the greasy fuel that lightens up the dullest of chatter on the tube or down the pub. One man's Dark Side of the Moon is another's Blood on the Tracks. But once in a while an album comes along which makes a nonsense of such equivocation. Jump over hedges and run through walls to find your nearest copy of Kings Of Leon Because of the Times dear readers. It is an album of such breadth and scope, such ambition and soul, that it runs the risk of you dumping the rest of your record collection in the (cyber) bin and just sitting in a dark room listening to it for a very long time indeed. Stand out tracks include Knocked Up, Fans and The Runner. But then most of the tracks are pretty standout to be honest. Musical fresh air for Spring.