we should all view Frances Mcdormand @ the Baftas as our guiding north star this week, and have just a little bit more trouble with being 'compliant'
If your ears haven’t feasted on the group album assembled by XL Recordings’ top dog Richard Russell then consider this section AURAL TASTE. Everything Is Recorded is sprawling and cathartic, perhaps thanks to the croons of Sampha, whose voice makes you think he’s the kinda guy who would forgive your wrongs. Wa-hack the record on during your commute home; your tired Londonified grey pallor will not protest.
Meanwhile in Dalston, experimental and avant-garde music venue Cafe Oto is hosting a night next Monday featuring artists from Turkey and Iran, with music inspired by Persian, Indian and Arabic music traditions. The teasers growl with soul and the tanbur, tembur and santur will all be played. I know you don’t know what those are so make sure you go and find the fuk out.
Touch upon the issues of today in a way that goes against the grain. Last week’s Short of the Week, the 10-minute documentary Guns Found Here (director David Freid) is a gr8 example of something that does exactly that. By maintaining the grave consequences of US gun ownership - i.e. everyone getting fucking KILLED - but approaching the topic from a largely unexamined angle in the form of a certain firearm-related bureaucratic nightmare, the call for tighter gun controls is made in a non-hostile, non-“activist” way, which I rate. That sounds like a douchey thing to say, but I stand by it because the film exhibits the kind of imaginative argument-making that could actually ignite change, and convince the staunch’n’stupid NRA groupies.
Nostalgia wrapped up in reverb. Frank says go to church and you will feel like Frank feels. Did someone say tulips. Did someone say fuchsia. Did someone say sorbet.
Oooh here is a full-on fancy to see this week, pals. Creative director cum fashion designer cum DJ (if your job title doesn’t span three industries then R U even living in the twenty-first century m8?) Virgil Abloh, also known as that dude who made those sick Nikes, has teamed up with (remember when we didn’t use the phrase ‘collaboration’ in every other sentence?) contemporary artist Takashi Murakami, also known as that dude who made that sick Kanye West album cover. Making up perhaps the most raging postmodernist duo of all time, they’re exhibiting works at the Gagosian Gallery in Davies Street from Wednesday. Expect nu-wave frantic visuals and thirteen-year-olds who dress better than you.
When in doubt, Peckham. Check out Coal Rooms, which is housed in the station’s former ticket office. Grade II listed, fam. I like the website URL because it looks like “Coal Room Speckham”, and I’m imagining something that is halfway between a chicken coup that smells like incense and and old man in a burgundy leather armchair with an inch-thick monocle on. Don’t know where that came from, might be the whole roasted cauliflower and ox cheek talking. Yeah. You ‘erd.
Published by: Lara Baxter in All, Opinion
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