Concert review: boygenius, Ethel Cain at The Piece Hall, 23/8/23

 Live 23/8/23: boygenius supported by Ethel Cain at The Piece Hall, Halifax

Stood just a metre away from the barricades, I looked around at the swathes of fans chanting beneath a darkening sky. Droplets of laughably ill-timed rain were beginning to coat the crowds as they anticipated one specific sound: the iconic guitar riff of The Boys Are Back In Town, a track which has come to signify the imminent arrival of boygenius - the headline act, comprised of musicians Phoebe Bridgers, Julien Baker and Lucy Dacus. 

Neither water from above nor heat in the air could have possibly deterred the band's rabid supporters from screaming with all their might upon the sounding of said 70s classic, though; the mere prospect of 'The Boys,' as they call them, sharing the same space of Halifax's vast Piece Hall venue, sending some fans into a feverish frenzy.

So, with the backing instrumentalists settled on the stage and the unrelenting drizzle falling onto fans too excited to see their idols to care, the 3 singers huddled together behind a backstage-concealing sheet. The crowd hushed. Their voices started to soar.

The historic Piece Hall

I had been informed days before my and a friend's excursion to Halifax, a town in West Yorkshire (that, I will not hesitate to add, is also known as the 'lesbian capital of the UK'), of the beauty of the place to which we were bound. The Piece Hall, built in 1779, is perhaps one of the country's most visually stunning venues, with balconies that stretch far and wide about the piazza and several eateries and boutique shops to be excavated within.

Me and my friend Amy - who kindly offered me a spare ticket, in the wake of someone else having to cancel - disembarked the train from Manchester Vic at half 10 in the morning. A freakishly early arrival for a concert set to start at twenty-past seven in the evening, you may say, but this meant we were able to get our wristbands promptly and, in doing so, ensure a relative closeness to the stage.

As you can probably gauge from the perspective of the photos I took, we played a blinder on that front!

But back to the scene at hand: having landed so early in the day, we were able to witness the boygenius devotees beginning to amass as the minutes grew into hours. It was just as educational an experience as it was entertaining, for me at least, as Amy explained the proliferation of shirt and tie combos and clothing marked with blue paint; the former, the boygenius 'uniform' if you will (that which we were to see on stage later on) and the latter, a reference to their song 'True Blue' and its accompanying film.

It was quite the sight: a sea of concert attendees dressed to the nines in all of the latest fashions, passing pensioners indulging in a bit of afternoon tea and families taking in the breadth of the breath-taking venue. Just one of the Piece Hall's many eccentricities!

Getting in early doors? What a (boy)genius move!

There reached a specific point in the day - 3:30PM - when those wearing wristbands were gathered and, incrementally (and with reference to one's wristband number), told to exit the venue and line up. This system of making concertgoers' entrance a seamless and organised one is popular and, for the most part, worked out well enough on the day.

That didn't mean that its execution wasn't without flaw, however: there was a lot of confusion amongst the crowds as stewards reorganised queues already packed with people, in what totalled a two-and-a-half hour wait, until re-entry into the venue at 6.

Sure, the subsequent standing around was tedious but, what with such a bill to expect at the end of it all, I'll bet it took no time to fade from consciousnesses of the crowd upon re-entry.

From that point onwards, everything was smooth-sailing as could be. We reached our music-lover-dream-fuel of a spot, made light and pleasant conversation with the equally effervescent fans around us and, in the space of an hour, the first act of what was to be an astonishing night of entertainment was on stage, greeting us with a smile - a smile that gave way to the stupefying sound of her voice.

Ethel Cain

L-R: Steven Coyler, Ethel Cain (Hayden Anhedönia) and Caden Clinton 

A House In Nebraska, the spellbinding song with which Ethel Cain began her 40 minute set, concerns a lovelorn Cain reminiscing on the time she spent with her ex-partner, who is now 'up and gone'. The only thing left that physically embodies what they had together is the titular place that Cain 'still call[s] home' in spite of their severed ties.

A sparse and stark composition whose singular piano stabs reverberated about the open space of the Piece Hall hauntingly, A House In Nebraska is but one of the many revered tracks off of the debut record by Ethel Cain - real name Hayden Anhedönia - entitled Preacher's Daughter. 

Despite being a relatively recent release, its 13 sprawling songs first reaching the ears of thousands in May of 2022, Preacher's Daughter quickly garnered a vast cult following; the gravitational pull of Cain's confident vocal delivery paired with a knack for macabre storytelling palpable upon first listen for many.

I am one such Ethel Cain devotee, I will admit - and without a single smidgen of shame do I identify myself in that way! Finally taking the much-delayed plunge into the musician's discography a year on from the release of Preacher's Daughter, I was left wishing I'd only delved into her work sooner: all of her releases brim with creativity, musical proficiency and a unique sense of vision that have swiftly seen her faced with commercial as well as cult success; epitomised in the form of singles American Teenager and Crush, both of which were duly included in her setlist.

Preaching to the masses with her angelic voice

Being a recent convert to the cult of Cain, I cannot stress enough how star-struck I felt when the person at its helm emerged from backstage. Rather than emanating that closed-off, enigmatic aura deemed characteristic of such cult figures as herself, Ethel Cain and co - guitarist Steven Coyler and percussionist Caden Clinton - exuded a warmth that can only be explained by the happiness they felt in simply being there, sharing Cain's phenomenal compositions with an attentive crowd.

Over the course of the 6 songs she performed (and don't be deceived by the number - four of said songs were 7 minutes in length, or longer), Cain enthralled and transfixed with ease, the versatility of her voice decorating fan-favourites like Thoroughfare and Sun Bleached Flies with fluid melodies and light, laidback yodelling.

Her perfect blend of pure-sounding pop, brooding lyricism and unnerving instrumentation makes for a fascinating experience in the live setting. I relished the way the band complemented Cain's stunning vocals and built up the tension of each track so deftly; Coyler and Caden doing this to particularly astonishing effect in Family Tree.

Ethel Cain herself beamed throughout the set, engaging with the crowd and asking 'who's excited for boygenius?' and receiving a resounding roar in response. During the final song of her set, the aforementioned Crush, she even went barricade-close and belted from the level of the listener - a move that unfortunately meant most could not see her for this performance, but one that suggested a genuine adoration and appreciation of her fans, regardless.

Cain on harmonica in Thoroughfare

As far as supports go, I don't think boygenius could've opted for a more entrancing opening act than Ethel Cain. From upbeat bangers to sprawling musical explorations, her setlist delighted from start to finish - though, of course, take this cultist's words of appreciation with a teensy grain of salt - and, what with the new tracks and collaborations coming in steadily, one can only anticipate the next time she graces the UK with her incredible music.

boygenius

'Give me everything you've got/I'll take what I can get' sung boygenius, beamed to the audience from backstage via the on-stage screen, commencing set (and album) opener, Without You Without Them; and no better or clearer a track is there to demonstrate the plaintive beauty of Bridgers, Baker and Dacus' voices. From the outset, their harmonies layer on top of each other lightly and lusciously, adding to the acapella performance an enveloping quality that managed to singlehandedly silence a crowd (whose ear-piercing screams had filled the space just a minute prior, might I add).

There is a present feeling of togetherness in this and the rest of boygenius' songs, that which is made especially prominent as they are delivered live. Harmony - in more than just the musical sense of the word - is evidently the key to the success of the band, as well as the catalyst of their infectious energy and comedic interactions with one another. The true joy underpinning boygenius is found in the three-piece's heart-warming camaraderie, immortalised in the music they've made together and shared with the world.

What of this music, then?

L-R: Phoebe Bridgers, Julien Baker and Lucy Dacus

Across the hour-and-thirty-minute runtime of their performance, boygenius ran through the entirety of their discography. That is, 18 songs: 6 being from their 2018 self-titled EP and the rest coming from the record, their debut album that dropped earlier this year. 

Building on from said EP, the 12 songs that make up their LP flit effortlessly from folk-tinged ruminations to indie rockers; all packed full of memorable lyricism and catchy guitar licks that have stuck with their fans since the record's release, if the audience's raving responses to the show were anything to go by.

Having heard both projects and experienced boygenius' particular brand of indie/folk, I was justified in my anticipation of a dynamic setlist. To my delight, that was what we received - and so much more.

Lucy Dacus: charming in character, and in voice

The first of many contrasts to be found within their vast collection of compositions, the record's opener gave way to $20, the energetic track's introductory power chords mirrored by boygenius, as they burst out from backstage and entered the fore. 

It is songs in the vein of this one, like Satanist and Bite The Hand (the latter, a cut from the self-titled EP), that saw the fans at their rowdiest: belting each lyric word-for-word, some doing so through streaming, happy tears.

Amidst the rolling drums and electric guitar fuzz that characterised such tracks, Bridgers, Baker and Dacus made the physical space between them seem non-existent as they smiled, strummed and sang along as one.

The response to the 3-piece's mellower offerings throughout the night was similarly appreciative, though expressed in a suitably more subtle way. One of the singles to come out of the record and a firm fan favourite, Emily I'm Sorry gripped the crowd instantaneously with its wistful acoustic chords and Bridgers' captivating vocal delivery.

Julien Baker: bringing riffs straight from Memphis 

I myself recount hearing the trio's heart-tugging harmonies at the end of Revolution 0, in which 'aah's are echoed by each band member before they coalesce wonderfully, as a point at which I felt utterly awestruck; ineffable, the sheer buzz experienced in the wake of hearing boygenius' harmonisations in so open an expanse as the Piece Hall.

I should mention at this stage that, alongside boygenius' complete discography, each member also performed one of their own songs, released separately from the band: Bridgers chose Graceland Too, a track from 2020's Punisher; Favour was played from Baker's 2021 album Little Oblivions; and Dacus performed Please Stay from her most recent album, Home Video.

In the process of the three musicians bringing their own solo compositions to the table - though, as with Graceland Too, the other members of boygenius may have had a hand in the recording of them as well - the personalities of Bridgers, Baker and Dacus were able to shine through even more than they had done within the confines of the band. I found that, through the songs they opted to play, Bridgers demonstrated the unique and endearing lyrical slant she perfected on her Grammy-nominated album of 2020, Baker incorporated the edgier instrumentation of Favour to further diversify the evening's set and Dacus softly serenaded the audience atop her bandmates' backing vocals.

Phoebe Bridgers: walking meme, killer scream

Going back to the indestructible chemistry of boygenius, this particular friendship of theirs had the effect of making one actually look forward to gaps between songs, regardless of how lovely the music itself was, just to witness them interact. 

Of these interactions, some favourites of mine were when Dacus had to stop playing for a moment due to the fans being 'too funny'; a 'gay' chant that Baker demanded be started following Bridgers making reference to Halifax's status as the lesbian capital of the UK; and the hilarious playfighting that ensued at the end of Salt In The Wound (the final song of the night) resulting in a slight bleed to the head in the case of Julien Baker. 

Needless to say, boygenius put on a show in every way conceivable. They careered through the 21 songs of their setlist with ceaseless enthusiasm, engaged the crowd with their indelible charisma and indomitable bond and delivered to their devoted fans the music they love with equal grace and grittiness.

That's my piece well and truly said. Rather than leave you with any more of (what I envision you perceive to be) my endless, geeky drivel, I'll let you mull over Amy's verdict of the concert, instead:

"As a long time boygenius fan, not only of the band but also of the three artists individually, I found the show to be a pendulum of conflicting emotions - one moment screaming at the top of my lungs, and the next, crying with the other queer kids in what was essentially a cheaper therapy session. 

The atmosphere was magnetic and the musical talent is completely unmatched. Their stage presence in and outside of the music was incredible, and it is so obvious that their dynamic is the purest form of friendship. 

It is also incredibly obvious from the merch to the venue that The Boys know their demographic of young queer people, with the venue being in the birthplace of one of the first known lesbian women and a pioneer in queer history and the merch designs being fucking hilarious and exactly what the fans would want. Personally, I find the monster trucks and flames all over the merch to be peak comedy. 

Overall, if you ever get chance to see boygenius, do it without hesitation and kiss goodbye your mental stability as, 3 days later, I’m still recovering from the post-concert depression."

Summer of Discovery Part Two: August 2023

Summer of Discovery, part two

Greetings! The summer is drawing to a swift close as I type - the quickest summer I think I've ever experienced, though that could just be the classic perception of time 'flying past' brought about by ageing taking its toll already - and, to commemorate its passing, I'm giving you a present: the 2nd and final part to my Summer of Discovery series of reviews!

As you may quickly notice, the whole idea I initially approached this concept with around choosing albums at random from Mojo's selection of the 'best albums' to come out since it was established...well, it fell to the wayside, in my realisation of the desire I had to listen to some specific records; ergo, the first review on this list is the only one of a 'randomly selected' album.

I, in all seriousness, have relished the process of experiencing a record, taking notes, getting them down and getting them out onto this blog in some relatively coherent form through both parts of this 'Summer of Discovery' venture; some of the albums delved into as part of this 2nd iteration are undoubtedly staying on rotation for a good while. I hope that, in reading my analyses of each, that may become the case for you, too!

(NOTE TO SELF: maybe pick a less exciting and time-consuming mode of college work procrastination next time!!!)

14/8 - The Sophtware Slump by Grandaddy

It was from the comfort of my bed that I decided to re-enter my self-imposed, record-a-day diet, the first piece of randomly selected paper reading 'GRANDADDY - THE SOPHTWARE SLUMP'. A suitably alien beginning, then. Over the course of 11 songs, Grandaddy touch upon themes of isolation, obsolescence and...science fiction; 'Miner at the Dial-A-View' is your first port of call for understanding that observation. The band gives all of their songs a supernatural air in their use of instrumentation, moreover, as light piano flourishes are paired with glitchy, arpeggiated synths and overdriven guitars. I will admit that I found the latter half of Grandaddy's 2000 effort to be much more enjoyable than the former - though each of the compositions on this record are endearing in their own way - and that I had a bit of trouble warming to Jason Lytle's voice, however suited it is to the music to which it is set. For fans of other eccentrics boasted by the 90s like Eels, 12 Rods and Radiohead, I would suggest you give The Sophtware Slump a try.

Favourites: Underneath The Weeping Willow, Broken Household Appliance National Forest, Miner at the Dial-A-View

15/8 - Wrong-Eyed Jesus! by Jim White

If you're ever in dire need of a dose of folky quirkiness, look no further than Jim White's Wrong-Eyed Jesus! Curious about the title? Bag a physical copy and you'll receive liner notes boasting of a full-on (and brilliantly written) 'mysterious tale' of why such a phrase was yelled by the singer/songwriter - disclaimer...it is equally harrowing and hilarious. As for the music itself? Expect some heavenly country numbers (Sleepy-Town, with its pedal-steel guitar, banjo and harmonica flourishes, and Book of Angels), dazzling jazz-inspired tracks (the endlessly charming When Jesus Gets A Brand New Name bears a saxophone, a smooth walking bassline and captivating percussion) and more experimental cuts (of the likes of A Perfect Day to Chase Tornados and Wordmule, both songs whose endings are wonderfully cacophonous). That last genre of the list is prone to the odd flop across Wrong-Eyed Jesus! as shown through Angel-Land's slightly ear-grating harmonies. White's singing and lyricism across the record is another of its many enjoyable elements, as he melodically tells of anecdotes personal, like when he heard the night-time cries of a man who would later commit suicide as described in Still Waters, as well as relatable, when he is (I'm assuming metaphorically) 'stabbed in the heart' and 'left...to die' by his ex-lover in Stabbed In The Heart. The best bit of left-field folk I've heard in a long time; a damn good short story, too!

Favourites: Burn the River Dry, When Jesus Gets a Brand New Name, A Perfect Day To Chase Tornados

16/8 - Scott 4 by Scott Walker

Scott Walker's fourth record away from the spotlight he endured - to put it lightly - as a member of the Walker Brothers, though with a twist: unlike with his previous solo work, Scott 4 was the first to be released under his actual surname, 'Engel'. Perhaps, you may be thinking, this is the album on which Scott truly and triumphantly comes into his own - the LP is made up solely of original Engel compositions, after all! Strange...you read my mind! Cool and confident like never before, Scott 4 sees the crooner reach a compositional and poetic peak; not just in relation to Scott Walker, the artist, but as an album of the time period as a whole. (Ironic, then, that this was to be his biggest commercial flop yet...ahead of its time, I wonder?) 10 tracks comprise the album, all of which are of great musical depth and characteristically grandiose, though Walker, at his most ambitious, here introduces elements of rock n' roll in Get Behind Me, folky instrumentation in record closer Rhythm of Goodbye and jazz inflections, such as the singer's highly enjoyable scatting across the record - only indicating further the extent of Walker's creative control and contentedness in the making of this record. The lyrical darkness that had merely been hinted at through his past original material reveals itself in all of its gloomy glory on Scott 4, prime demonstrations being the knight who, having lost a chess match against Death himself, 'solemnly danced towards the dawn' in The Seventh Seal; the ominously ambiguous ending of 'put all the love back in me/I am lying/she is crying' of Duchess; and Walker's wry aside about a town's celebrated Hero of the War, 'it's too bad he can't shake hands or move his feet'.

And to think, but hours ago, I'd deliberated whether he could've possibly bested Scott 3...

Favourites: The Seventh Seal, Angels of Ashes, Hero of the War

17/8 - No Count Sarah by Sarah Vaughan

Music is considered to be, by some, the greatest mode of escapism; the gratification they get from sticking a stylus on a record and being transported to a vast soundscape, the best possible way to disappear from reality. For such a person, no truer would this idea ring than in the swinging jazz and brooding blues of Sarah Vaughan's No Count Sarah. The name of the album refers quite directly to the lack of a Count Basie accompaniment (though the rest of the Count Basie Orchestra plays along), however, in hearing the first notes sung by the virtuosic Vaughan, one immediately forgets about the backing instrumentation altogether. As the second track, Doodlin', gets into full swing, Vaughan's charismatic vocal exudes sassiness as it is manipulated and manoeuvred effortlessly; Suessdorf and Blackburn's Moonlight In Vermont is given the star treatment, its wistful descriptions of the city at night made to feel tangible through said star's liquid delivery; smatterings of scat and vocalese reign supreme in the Thad Jones-featuring No Count Blues and Stardust - Vaughan's emphatic 'whoops,' 'doo-be's and 'woo's comprising her own beautiful musical language. I'll end this review of No Count Sarah - a must-listen in the jazz chronology, by many accounts - by pointing out the irony I found in her singing of 'heaven' in Irving Berlin's Cheek To Cheek, when Vaughan herself constructs such a place in audio form, in which all of her listeners can bask eternally.

Favourites: Darn That Dream, Moonlight In Vermont, No Count Blues

18/8 - Disco Volante by Mr. Bungle

Holy. Shit. Was listening to this LP at midnight the absolute wrong decision? Or is that the only reasonable time at which to play death metal infused with jazz, infused with the odd bit of techno and punctuated by Mike Patton's whispers, screams and, erm, belching? I don't think I have it in me to form coherent conclusions to those inquiries! It's not often that an album leaves me utterly at a loss, but Mr. Bungle's second record, Disco Volante, had me out for the count from the opening track; its title, Everyone I Went to High School with Is Dead, alone enough to provoke a stunned silence. In said opener, deafening chants and a thunderous electric guitar assault the ears within seconds, as the tempo quickens and slows like wind-battered waves, merely hinting at the sheer madness that is to be unleashed at around the 2 minute mark. There is a method to Mr. Bungle's madness, though - an astounding level of musical ability is demonstrated throughout Disco Volante, most notably in the form of Danny Heifetz's versatile and breakneck drumming - and the vastness of the group's musical scope from the haunting, mounting cacophony of equally jazzy and ghostly Chemical Marriage and Desert Search for Techno Allah's combination of middle-Eastern instrumentation and bass-boosted electronica (and what a title) to the fluid metal of Phlegmatics which incorporates both clarinets and a supervillain-esque vocal delivery, is nothing short of revelatory. On October 10th 1995, the day Disco Volante was released to the world, the boundaries of music were stretched like they'd never been stretched before.

Favourites: Carry Stress in the Jaw, Phlegmatics, Platypus

19/8 - Me and Armini by Emilìana Torrini

A 2008 record comprised of many influences and quirks, Me and Armini sees Icelandic singer/songwriter Emilìana Torrini embark on a deconstruction of love and attraction. I will mention at this point in the review that I left listening to this at the last minute, so cut to a flagging Han making 'tired notes' on what is an album deserving of appreciation in a more lucid state and...not the prettiest picture, is it? Still, judging from what my weary head gauged from the 12 songs it was played, I derived some enjoyment from it. What struck me most about Me and Armini was Torrini's wonderful prose, particularly in tracks Hold Heart and Birds; the former depicting the narrator desperately plead, 'no, tears, don't you come out/if you blind me now, I am defeated' and the latter beginning with the luscious line, 'let's stay awake/and listen to the dark'. Other songs made for a riveting listen, like Gun, whose sheer sparsity - its most prominent sounds, an low electric guitar loop and the odd exhalation or finger click from Torrini - a suspenseful and smart narrative about a husband-turned-affair-victim-turned murderer. Some of the more straightforward songs on Me and Armini, I found to be on the repetitive side, in the case of bubbly ditty Big Jumps and the overly-onomatopoeic Jungle Drum; I can also imagine some finding Torrini's voice to be on the grating side, however I liked its versatility and deceptive subtlety. An endearing album from an engaging musician.

Favourites: Birds, Hold Heart, Dead Duck

20/8 - Ambient 2: The Plateaux Of Mirror by Harold Budd and Brian Eno

Reclining in my chair and soothed by the autumnal smell of my favourite candle - 'Pecan Bourbon,' or the most calming of candle scents - I pressed play on an album that proved similar to the latter object in its comforting quality. A collaborative effort by electronic and ambient music pioneers Harold Budd and Brian Eno, 1980's Ambient 2: The Plateaux Of Mirror is, despite the connotations evoked by its rather winding title, not as pretentious a journey into sound as you might expect. On the contrary: this record teems with reflective rusticity, inviting the listener to drift away with a wistful soundtrack of pitter-pattering pianos and reverberating synths to accompany their thoughts. In the 10 tracks that make up Ambient 2, the duo's musical inclinations - Eno's synth-driven explorations and Budd's more rural tones - coalesce wonderfully, creating a space in which one can feel, just as the music itself does. Take the gloom of the third and titular track, whose moody Moog underlines in it an eerie tone beneath heavenly broken chord glissandos, how its swaying instrumentation moves the listener. Or, hear how An Arc of Doves and Failing Light's Buddian piano - that is, the distant and dreamlike piano tone often heard in Budd's compositions - is intertwined with the synth that subtly seeps in and out of the fore. It is nigh on impossible to not be transfixed by the equally dissonant and poignant music comprising Ambient 2's 40 minutes. These compositions feel, to me, like faraway waves faintly crashing against a beach's sand; that, or (the final note I made on this album), like 'a hug captured in slow motion captured in song'.

Favourites: The Plateaux Of Mirror, Not Yet Remembered, Wind In Lonely Fences

21/8 - We'll Have A Time by Dear Nora

A band spoon-fed to me by one of Spotify's soulless, algorithmically-generated playlists - so sue me for dipping into a Daily Mix once in a while - the four musicians that comprise indie/folk outfit Dear Nora have been at it for 2 decades now. The record of theirs I decided to delve into, We'll Have A Time, was their 2001 debut, and it's a sweetly short experience; its 12 songs totalling a mere 26 minutes. We'll Have A Time is not an experience you'll be wanting to miss out on, however, as the aptly-titled opener Rollercoaster would suggest (and in more than just name). That track, alongside the later Since You Went Away and From My Bedroom Window, will swiftly put you in a trance with their quaint and ambitious vocal harmonies; with Katy Davidson playfully accompanying their main vocal across the album, to great success. There is an endearingly DIY feel to each composition, as evidenced in 'Round and 'Round's fuzzy power chords and quick percussion - by the same token, I expect those who listen to We'll Have A Time won't be too surprised to hear the occasional dodgy drum fill. The general simplicity of said instrumentation lends itself effectively to Davidson's poignantly plain lyricism: their statement of 'I don't know if I can wait another day to see the night' in Early To Bed and the spacious You Looked Like A Portrait's title echoed with 'of someone who cared' added on, just two tantalising titbits of what you'll hear on this LP. You'll have a time, indeed.

Favourites: You Looked Like A Portrait, Everyone's The Same, Early To Bed

22/8 - Dogsbody by Model/Actriz

One of the best outputs in the vein of industrial music that I've heard so far in 2023, Model/Actriz's record Dogsbody is a raucous and unsettling collection of ear-throttling thumpers. Coherent throughout, this album deploys 10 dazzling tracks, rapid-fire and unrelentingly, that command the listener to dance, to move or simply to stand and experience the sound. The opener, Donkey Show, chucks you into the site of an oncoming mosh: breathy and half-spoken vocals precluding the pounding drums and industrial fuzz that is soon to wreak musical havoc. Tracks like Mosquito, Amaranth and Maria are hard to describe in their shocking unpredictability, sudden crescendos and palpable intensity; a sensation no doubt enhanced by such hair-raising lyrics as 'I wish he would remove the blade from my neck/I know he waits for me to do it myself' in Maria. Furthermore, I feel that the influence of experimental noise stalwarts Xiu Xiu, particularly that of Jamie Stewart's haunting voice, cannot be understated as one force behind Dogsbody - the idiosyncratic Divers and genuinely frightening Sleepless, mirroring the band's hallmark freakish soundscapes. Model/Actriz will certainly take up residency in your brain for the foreseeable after you hear their debut record.

Favourites: Slate, Divers, Maria

23/8 - no album review as I went to a Boygenius/Ethel Cain concert in Halifax, which you can read about in an upcoming review!

24/8 - PARANOÏA, ANGELS, TRUE LOVE by Christine and the Queens

What better a way to round off my 'Summer of Discovery' series than to review a 96-minute-long experimental synth-pop opera? I've been meaning to experience the new Christine and the Queens record, Paranoïa, Angels, True Love, since its release in early June, but failed to get around to it - until the thought about my last 'discovery' led me straight back to its stark and alluring cover art. Comprising the second, third and fourth parts to follow Letissier's last LP, Redcar les adorables étoiles, this stunning 20-song feature sees the musician stretch his imagination to previously unseen heights: combining classical elements (see the Canon in D sample underpinning Full of life), 808 drum machines (A day in the water), jazz influences (Aimer, plus vivre) and more in a fluctuating foundation, atop which Letissier's angelic and indelible vocals soar. The lyrical content of Paranoïa, Angels, True Love is as angelic as his singing, but more so in a literal sense; no more obviously demonstrated than in I feel like an angel, wherein Letissier is 'searching for undying promises,' and no more poignantly than in the Madonna-featuring Angels crying in my bed - in which he asks, 'is it love or is it blood/dripping off my wrists'. With the French artist's songs often revolving around the existentialist ideas of love and identity - his musings sometimes recited by the Queen of Pop herself - it makes sense for the instrumentation in Paranoïa, Angels, True Love to be so chameleonic throughout. Some choices in this regard are less effective than others, in my view, though I personally am not a huge fan of 808s or the auto-tune brought to the table by rapper 070 Shake. Other experimental ventures of his made across this record, such as the sprawling Track 10 (actually 7th out of the 20 tracks, despite the title) whose ghostly choral sample and funky drumming expands into a tapestry of equally guttural and feather-light singing, industrial cacophony with a side of spoken word about a 'crazy French bitch,' however, are indicative of his status as the modern musical star; Letissier's ability to weld together myriad genres with not just ease but tact of the highest calibre, combined with his astonishing artistic vision, placing him into a position of peerlessness. A spellbinding LP.

Favourites: Marvin descending, Track 10, He's been shining for ever, your son

Brokeback Mountain essay (written 2021)

Character contrast between Ennis Del Mar and Jack Twist at the beginning of 'Brokeback Mountain'

Introduction

The film 'Brokeback Mountain' presents to the viewers a story of great tension and, ultimately, tragedy: it is the tale of two men who, living in the throes of the 1960s in Western America, grapple with their positions as lovers destined to be apart; following a spell of undisturbed togetherness in the idyllic wilderness of Brokeback Mountain, where both men had arrived as a means of getting work. It is this pivotal meeting place, where they come to get to know each other and, as time progresses, begin a relationship together (undeclared by both though clearly meaningful), that signals both the beginning and the end of their partnership: declared upon their first encounter at the start of the film, as they await employment; solidified through their moments of intimacy; and dissolved at the two men's departure from Brokeback. All the while, the characters of Ennis and Jack are representative of two separate approaches to their homosexuality and, furthermore, the expression of it: while the former is considerably more tentative, in general manner and in showing affection towards Jack, the latter man is clear in his sexual inclinations from the beginning and forthcoming in all aspects of his disposition. In this way, Ennis is symbolic of 'realism' - the act of seeing and accepting things as they really are - and Jack is symbolising 'idealism,' or the act of conceiving something that is perfect and, simultaneously, unrealistic. This point of thematic contention is what, through acting as the sole factor underlying the later development of the plot post-Brokeback, decides their fate as being doomed - the fundamental differences in the respective approaches to their relationship, proving fatal in the end.

The arrival

During the first scene of the film is when the two focal characters are juxtaposed clearly for the first time. It is the character of Ennis Del Mar that we are shown right from the start, as he jumps out from a truck and, adorning a suede jacket and large cowboy hat, stands outside of the office inside which he hopes to find a job. Immediately, the viewers are introduced to the nature of this character, and without the use of dialogue: evident from the point of his leaning against the trailer-cum-office is Ennis' solemnity, painted through stiff body language and a closed posture; hands, firmly stuffed into the pockets of his coat. Implicit in this physical portrayal of Ennis is the idea that, as a person, he is closed off, an idea represented not only by this portrayal but in the way in which the viewer is denied any backstory or dialogue surrounding the character - with Ennis' exit from the truck occurring without a single word spoken - that could have acted to contextualise his apparent sullen demeanour. 

It is from this point, however, that another character is brought into the fray: Jack Twist pulls up to the trailer in what appears to be a rickety and faulty vehicle, for when he parks, it seems to break down, causing the man to mutter an expletive and lightly hit the car. A contrast between the two men, through Jack's manner here, is instantly struck. For a start, it is from the mouth of Jack that we hear the first line of the film; a significant development following the audience's near silent treatment from Ennis, bar the scraping of his shoes across the ground.

Secondly, the overall physicality of Jack is shown to be a point of difference, in his pushing of the old car out of frustration, witnessed only by the watchful eyes of the stoic Ennis, still leaning against the empty trailer. Jack's juxtaposition against Ennis on a physical level is highlighted further when he notices the presence of the other man: turning around to face him before taking a few steps towards the trailer; his movement cut short upon realising Ennis' accentuated non-committal body language. Jack then settles with resting an arm upon his car, facing the other man, smiling almost imperceptibly. 

This sequence of actions, in particular the final of which, create the narrative of Jack as a character being significantly more carefree, from his adoption of the contrary open posture in leaning, arm out and looking at Ennis, on his vehicle to his almost instant gravitation towards his counterpart - despite having barely received a glance upwards from him. In these respective characterisations, we are given a subtle exposition as to the dynamics of the pair, with ideas of being 'introvert' and 'extrovert' coming to the fore, but more importantly, their characterisations in relation to the societal context of 'Brokeback Mountain'.

As the film is set in 1963 at the beginning, it can be inferred that in American society as a whole, in particular the country's more rural communities, acts of homosexuality and any notion of same-sex partnership were viewed with scorn; perceived only as criminality or as affronts to God. With this subtext underpinning every scene and interaction in the film from its commencement, the actions of Ennis and Jack during said opening can be analysed through this lens. 

In the case of Ennis, a character clearly and intentionally withdrawn, it could be inferred that he, as a homosexual - though perhaps unbeknownst to him at this stage - is similarly closed off with regard to his sexuality; he is conscious of the social climate around him that is demonstrative of extreme hostility towards deviation from the heterosexual norm, this bleak awareness causing the character to recede into a state of stoicism, barely acknowledging the arrival of Jack and the man's subsequent movements. Ennis' persona, therefore, represents the realistic approach that prevails as the narrative unfolds: while physically he is depicted as quite the enigmatic figure, in his stationary presence by the trailer - his leaning, an attempt at blending in with the backdrop - and evident awkwardness regarding his body language, symbolically Ennis is reflective of a just apprehension and aversion to openly displaying any inclination towards homosexuality; that which the society inhabited by both characters would decry and most likely punish them for, the only 'correct' way of living having been long established as strictly heterosexually. 

Conversely, the role of Jack in the characters' dynamic - a notably more expressive force physically - is to represent idealism, as a homosexual existing amidst a harsh and stigmatising social climate. Frank is the contrast between Ennis and Jack in their acknowledgement of each other, with the aloof cowboy witnessing the approach and animation of Jack; the latter's behaviour, reflective of an open defiance (however short-lived) in the face of the suppressive 1960s society and a wilful clarity as to his sexual identity; an expression curtailed in part by the downcast gaze of realism, yet expressed all the same.

This opening scene, though seeming simple on the surface, could actually be inferred as the synopsis of the story as a whole, what with the initial exaggeratedness of Jack and Ennis' natures and what they represent on a macro-level. Regardless, the film of course progresses from this introductory point and, so, the narrative of realism versus idealism continues to be constructed; a key illustration of this occurring atop Brokeback.

The mountain

Having scaled the high terrain many a time since first meeting one another, the two main characters inevitably grow close as they work together. We see Ennis, in whom scarcely offered a grunt to Jack or the viewers initially, talking more than he had 'in a year' (by his own admission) with the other cowboy - this gradual de-construction of Ennis' stoic demeanour and highly-built walls, a testament to Jack's determination in getting to know him on a deeper level. A greater depth is given to the pair's companionship when, having spent the night drinking together, they end up having sex; an interaction that was, in part, stimulated by Jack. This is because, prior to this heated moment, he (perhaps still in a half-drunken stupour) pulls the dozing Ennis' hand to himself; an important action, neglecting the headspace of Jack upon performing it, as it reiterates the idea that it is Jack's character that 'permits' the expression of homosexuality through his representation of an idealistic, freer society than was true of 1960s America.

Moreover, we see in a later instance a similar display of intimacy - one of the few dotted throughout the film - that is different to the first in its more ambiguous causation. While it could be argued that the sex between the two men was catalysed mainly by Twist, this scene involves the emotional investment of Del Mar, also. Again, facing the brunt of Brokeback's biting temperatures one night, Ennis retires to the tent, leaving only a dying fire in his wake. There he meets Twist, who is lying shirtless and expectant of other's arrival; he who leans forward and, as in the previously shown moment of intimacy, instigates their showing of attraction in the form of a kiss. Here, at this moment, is where the narrative regarding realism versus idealism reaches its peak: reassured by Twist's repetition of the phrase 'it's alright' - attempting to console a confused and downright ashamed Del Mar - Ennis proceeds to fall slowly into the other man's grasp; running his hands over him as if long-famished of reciprocated affection. 

This evaporation of the shame and tension contained within the heart of Ennis occurs in tandem with the merging of that which he represents and what Jack symbolises: with just the two of them, alone in the tranquil wilderness of Signal, Wyoming, the societal constructs preventing them from expressing wholeheartedly their attraction to one another gradually begin to disappear from view. So, then, does Ennis' mask, behind which he hides his adoration and many initially withheld words, begin to slip away just the same. At hearing Jack's comforting utterances, Del Mar fully realises the reality that, atop the mountain and inside the tent, there is no reality - that none of the scorn, shame or punishment for what Ennis and Jack are in the 'real world' can filter into what they have together away from it all, in an environment almost fantastical in its seclusion. 

Starkly does this placated and loving Ennis contrast with the Ennis of just a scene prior, in whom says with a shaky certainty that 'I ain't no queer,' a statement indicative of a personal confusion around his own sexuality (that he would not be allowed to openly explore in a normal context) in addition to that of a societally-enforced shame for expressing such a sexuality. In this warm depiction of the two characters embracing one another in shared acknowledgement of their romantic and sexual feelings being 'alright,' we as an audience are given a similar proportion of hope for Ennis and Jack and for the prevalence of their raw, unfiltered love. Sadly, the subsequent developments in 'Brokeback Mountain' assist in bringing us back down to earth - as are the two men, upon learning of the sudden cessation of their time on the mountain, a decision made by their boss Joe Aguirre - and, in the process, the ideas of idealism and realism are separated once more; never again to be combined as they had been atop Brokeback, inside the tent, away from it all.

The descent

The abrupt end of Jack and Ennis' time together on Brokeback Mountain is symbolic of the real world and their inevitable return to it. Their boss acts as the embodiment of the blatant and callous mistreatment of gay people in the 1960s, through his imminent sacking of the ranchers upon growing wise to their relationship. This firing of Ennis and Jack is, in part, what finalises their departure from one another, however, it is during the last scene wherein the cowboys go their separate ways that solidifies the foreseeable, unreconcilable difference between them as being a driving force behind the impossibility of Del Mar and Twist ever being together in their shared reality. 

Occurring in this pivotal sequence is a conversation between the two men surrounding their respective plans after leaving the comforting isolation of the mountain. Ennis reiterates his engagement to Alma, his girlfriend, and - avoiding Twist's question as to whether he would be returning to Brokeback the following summer - muses about finding ranch work elsewhere. Meanwhile, Jack, despite his hopes of helping his dad on the family plot, is steadfast in his intention to come back to the mountain for work as he had done two times prior. 

Once more, the juxtaposition between Del Mar and Twist, though considerably more subtle this time than in the opening scene, re-emerges. Having seemingly reverted to his initial stubborn realism, a stoic Ennis makes his stance on their relationship clear: that their partnership, in its homosexuality, is unworkable in the modern context; heavily implied by the character reminding Jack, the audience and perhaps even himself about his engagement to Alma. Moreover, the fact that we, the viewers, are yet to be acquainted with Ennis' fiancée forms a narrative of Alma - representing the woman, the wife - being the 'ideal'. Of course, this perception of the ideal, specifically that a the man should date, marry and eventually have children with a woman, is the antithesis to that which Jack views to be the perfect outcome for himself and Ennis. However, the former perspective aligns with the harsh reality that Ennis seems to prioritise above all else - even the man to whom he is so obviously attracted - so much so that the marriage to a woman, regardless of whether the partnership is built upon real love, is to Ennis the only viable course of action for the future.

Showcased through this scene, Jack's polar opposite attitude towards his and Ennis' relationship is genuinely heart-breaking: still entranced by the fantasy-like freedom inadvertently granted to Jack and Ennis to discover their sexuality and attraction to each other on Brokeback Mountain, it could be suggested that the former seriously believes that the experience they had up there could be replicated; further implied by his enquiry about Ennis returning to the mountain next summer, even after he has disclosed his upcoming marriage to Alma. It is also debatable as to whether, upon descending Brokeback, Twist sensed a transition from a dream-like state to being back in reality at all, that which Ennis evidently feels (reflected through his recession into a solitary and emotionally blunt state in front of Jack). 

The couple's incompatibility on this fundamental level, at this dramatic 'end' point of their pure and blissful time together on the mountain, is hammered into the heads of the viewers through the polarised psychology of the two: Ennis, set on pursuing the traditional and societally acceptable mode of living (marriage, starting a family) and Jack, naively convinced that the harsh climate of post-war America could ever again accommodate his and Ennis' love in an open context, away from Brokeback Mountain. 

Despite such a palpable contrast in perspectives, both men nonetheless display a deep sadness in coming to terms with leaving each other - particularly Ennis who, overwhelmed by the disappearance of Jack's car into the distance, crumples down beside a wall where he proceeds to retch, cry and yell at a staring passer-by. Jack, perhaps surprisingly, is more understated in his expression of distress upon leaving Ennis, merely watching his figure fade through his side mirror; this potentially being evidence to further support the notion that Jack did not for one moment believe his relationship with Ennis to have ended at all.

Conclusion

Throughout the exposition of the film 'Brokeback Mountain,' the audience is exposed to a heartening and hopeful connection, of two men meeting serendipitously on a summer sheep-herding operation and subsequently finding solace and acceptance in one another. We are, however, made wise to the realism and idealism that Ennis and Jack display respectively from the beginning; an unnerving discrepancy that lurks beneath each one of their interactions, however wholesome or promising an interaction it is. This sense of suspense experienced by the audience and maintained by the film's narrative ultimately gives way to the crushing and cruel reality of being gay in post-war Midwestern America: that you could not be gay in post-war Midwestern America. So is Jack's seemingly indomitable idealism and hope for the survival of his and Ennis' romance against the odds made that much more painful to witness as he drives off into the distance, eyes firmly set on Del Mar's receding form, unwittingly leaving the happiest time of his life in the dust.

(note: several minor edits made to original 2021 essay and conclusion added 13/8/23)

A nuanced tale told with heart-rendering rawness, Brokeback Mountain (the play!) shines in world debut

3/8/23 - Brokeback Mountain, Soho Theatre

Sometimes, the events of a day can transport the mind from reality, launching it straight into the land of dreams; with good old serendipity conjuring up interactions you would never have conceived of having in the first place. 

This was, for me and my mum, certainly true of our time in London on Thursday: having realised the day prior that we just happened to be able to catch this matinee before a later event, we then just happen to bump into some fellow Mancunian friends viewing the same show, with whom we enjoyed some drinks with in the evening (made possible by my mum just happening to have booked the later train).

The same could also be said of the story that unfolded before our eyes in the intimate space of Soho Theatre that afternoon.

You know the one - brought to your attention by the brilliant directorial vision of Ang Lee, the masterful performances of Jake Gyllenhall, Heath Ledger and Michelle Williams, and by the media attention - positive or otherwise - the sum of their work has garnered since. 

Perhaps universally known through its 2005 film adaptation, Annie Proulx's short story, 'Brokeback Mountain,' reached into an idiosyncratic pocket of Midwestern American society (as the author did in many of her narratives), unveiling in the process a turbulent and multi-faceted whirlwind of humanity: loss, love, life and all of its warts, withstood by the tale's two central characters.

The first to which the reader is introduced is Ennis Del Mar, an old man on his lonesome depicted milling about his trailer, awaiting a mug of stale coffee and the comfort that he expects to find in reminiscing upon the several experiences he and the story's other focal character, Jack Twist, had together; as young men tending sheep for pay during the summer on the titular mountain, to their subsequent interactions, all in the midst of time's never-ending ebb and flow.

Though I implore you to read Proulx's (quite frankly) perfect piece of prose in full - I could never do her words justice in this wee blog of mine, nor should I try to do so - I will provide a snippet that I find encapsulates the inescapable element of tragedy conveyed by Del Mar and Twist's tale, that which lurked beneath Thursday's performance throughout its duration:

One thing never changed: the brilliant charge of their infrequent couplings was darkened by the sense of time flying, never enough time, never enough.

At the 2:30 matinee - the turnout substantial for a show at such a time - all were abuzz at the prospect of so influential and ground-breaking a narrative as Brokeback Mountain being brought to the stage, let alone the West End, for the first time. The anticipation was palpable everywhere in the relatively-new Soho Theatre, permeating ever so softly in the chic café/bar and looming large in the seats surrounding the canvas upon which the cast were soon to paint with their long-honed craft. (This sense of suspense was briefly dissolved by the actor of Ennis in older age, Paul Hickey, who reassured the audience that we could talk from his outstretched position on the bed of his trailer.)

As you've likely cottoned on, the play walks decidedly in step with the original short story; presenting in its first minutes the self-same scene of Del Mar awaking, brewing coffee with a yawn and recalling - this time, with a deep inhalation of an old plaid shirt resting as he so recently did under the covers - his distant past.

From the moment the two young ranchers cross paths, their differences are immediately stark. While the younger Ennis - portrayed by Lucas Hedges - solemnly approaches the prospect of a summer spent atop a mountain watching sheep, Mike Faist's Jack Twist captivates with his contrasting bounciness as he takes no time in greeting the other cowboy with a firm handshake.

The audience is treated to the two actors' skilful and deeply considered interpretations of their respective characters - doubly demonstrative when you consider they are both making their West End debuts - in these opening scenes. See, the newly-confirmed colleagues' excursion to a local bar to commemorate what is to be a summer experienced together. Hedges, sat adjacent to Faist, curates an enigmatic air about him and quietly listens while the latter speaks excitedly of his favourite Texan spirit and eventually acknowledges - with the actor's on-point comedic timing - that his counterpart 'ain't much of a talker'.

Though the audience would be forgiven for seeing no feasible future ahead for the two cowboys - seemingly devoid of similarities save for their sense of style and shared living space up on Brokeback - Del Mar and Twist quickly grow accustomed to one another's personalities and, through a few exchanges, we watch on as a beautiful relationship begins to burgeon.

One such interaction carried with it an almost indescribable wholesomeness. As the night draws in, an erratic and slightly tispy Twist, harmonica in hand, begins to bust out some childhood favourites of his. Del Mar, recognising a tune, sings along in a suitably low rasp.

They proceed like this, one awestruck cowboy watching on as the other prances and toots away about the campfire, until the crackling fire starts to subside and they settle on sleeping either in (Twist) or out (Del Mar) of the tent. It is in this paragraph that I will commend the sheer level of effort Mike Faist clearly put into this role; learning to play harmonica in a way that made it appear completely effortless, no less. 

Of course, those knowledgeable of the narrative will be aware of the tremendous significance of this night, in which Ennis smartly abides by Jack's suggestion to move out from the freezing cold and into the warmer tent, the two share a duvet and end up having their first interaction of a sexual nature. 

While I would understand the perspective that the underlying tenderness of this moment could have been conveyed better than just through noises and movements performed from beneath the tent, the obvious restrictions presented by the context and the theatre format leads me to the conclusion that this scene ultimately served its purpose well as a signifier of the couple's newfound freedom to be sexual with one another and enjoy intimacy together.

Just as we think we can get comfortable in the knowledge that Del Mar and Twist are content as can be atop the mountain, in strolls the boss man Joe Aguirre (Martin Marquez) who chastises Jack when he is alone over the two neglecting their responsibilities while they 'stemmed the rose,' having witnessed them together through his binoculars. Coincidentally, Aguirre returns days later to inform Ennis and Jack that they are to descend the mountain and collect their pay in the face of an approaching storm...thus abruptly ending their companionship.

Faist and Hedges portray their characters' dismay and despair at the prospect of their sudden separation subtly and powerfully, so that when they stand adjacent with their heads bowed in silence, it is deafening. 

Further struggles befall the cowboys as the years drag on. Our attention is focused, as in the written text, on Ennis: his marriage to Alma (Emily Fairn, another West End debutant), the family life they share with two young children, the ranch work he undertakes for little pay, all events that Hedges responds to with downtrodden submission to his life's monotony. Jack Twist only re-enters the fray after a period of four years, when he and Ennis decide to meet once again.

Here is where the true nuanced nature of Proulx's narrative takes to the fore. While the audience is revitalised in the hope that Jack and Ennis are and can continually be together once more, they are simultaneously exposed to the horror experienced by Ennis' wife when she sees her husband lovingly kissing the man he introduced to her as a 'fishing buddy'. One of the most heart-tugging pieces of the production is Fairn's Alma dissolving into sobs at the kitchen table, astray from who she thought she was intended to spend her life with.

So many examples of talent proliferate Brokeback Mountain, a prominent one being the musical arrangements sounding betwixt and occasionally over the top of its scenes. While the show's usual balladeer, Eddi Reader, was not available for the matinee we attended, her understudy Sophie Reid transfixed the audience whenever she sang, plucked her guitar or blew into her harmonica. And the songs that she and the band behind her performed, all composed by The Feeling's Dan Gillespie Sells, were (sorry, Eddi) a perfect accompaniment: incorporating slide guitar, soulful piano and yearning lyrics without ever feeling cloying or overdone.

As for the two main men, Mike Faist is luminescent as Jack Twist, the many alluring mannerisms and intricacies within his performance gleaming like gems for the audience to admire whenever he steps onto the stage. (Peak Faistisms of which to note were his finger click after exclaiming ‘we should go to Mexico!’ his impeccable rhetorical timing and running off the dim-lit stage stark naked - for which I will give you no context!) Lucas Hedges inhabits the role of Ennis Del Mar with gravitas, highlighting his Twist-assisted transition from repressed young man to angry, emotive and ceaselessly expressive; the latter evidenced no better than in the play's gutting final scene. 

I thoroughly enjoyed watching Brokeback Mountain's effervescent cast, backed by a stunning musical ensemble and roaming a wonderous set - which included a bed with a sliding mechanism utilising which cast members could 'magically appear' in it and a transistor radio whose crackling sound only enhanced the play's feeling of homeliness - and would highly recommend it to anyone looking to sink their teeth into one of Proulx's best works through a different avenue to either the story or the film...which you should indulge in regardless, but do keep an eye out for this triumphant show when (and I mean when, not if) it comes around again!