Modern Times

There's nothing like the prospect of a new Bob Dylan album to make me start giggling like a little school girl. In the weeks leading up to the release date, Dylan fans are teased with hysterical proclomations of uber-mastery by the music press and publicity junkets deal out foppish pictures of the old devil left right and centre. Dylan peers at you through the photo lense: squinty eyes, lips pursed and slightly smurky. Nobody delivers a better Blue Steel. Sometimes I just want to grab the photos and yell YOU'RE SO FUCKIN SUAVE Dennis Hopper style into his wisened horsey face.

Expectations are high water and rising for this album. His recent autobiography was sharp and candid. Recents albums have been magnificent and Scorcese's film barely satisfied rabid public interest in even the most banal aspects of Dylan's life. It's been almost impossible to escape the guy in the last year.

Of course it's been a pretty appalling year for new music so far and maybe there's a little bit of Save Us King Bob about the reviews that have preceded the album release. Rolling Stone and Uncut Magazine reviews have been on the crazy side of delirious and some half-baked gobshite managed to compare the album to Matisse, Keats and Yeats. I'm no culture vulture but what exactly do those three all have in common? Ooh, he might say, the album is soooo painterly. Almost poetic. Like a painting.

It's seems like since Dylan's brush with death in the late nineties there has been a compulsion in the press to applaud everything he does in a kind of Quick... Before He Dies kind of hysteria. His live shows have been comically muffled in their delivery and even ventures like the revoltingly wretched Masked and Anonymous have been cheered out of existence. I mean just look at that trailer for god's sake. It makes you squirm doesn't it?

Giovanni Ribisi: Do you ever dream?
Dylan (squinty blue steel, unnecessary pause): Yea...I dream.

I've been listening to Modern Times now for a few days and it's an enjoyable enough affair. It's certainly no equal to Time Out of Mind or Love & Theft, it's partners in Bob's Indian Summer trilogy; but I suppose that those are unfair comparisons. Time Out of Mind was an absolute revelation when it came out. The personal nature of the album and the slow rolling splendour of the production demanded comparisons with Dylan's best work. I still, almost 10 years later, can't get over the sheer majesty of Not Dark Yet. Dylan always seemed to be a bit of a charaltan and here he was staring death in the face and telling it as straight as he could. It seemed to cut through any pretence he could muster. Of course, Love & Theft's witty remarks and breezy tone were all the more enjoyable after that. I remember one review at the time saying that getting to know the album was like drinking with a geriatric door to door saleman in a cheap motel bar. It didn't matter that Dylan was putting up the defenses again - it was just so show biz entertaining.

Anyway, if you're a Dylan fan you are going to buy this album no matter what happens. It's a pity that music journalists are so compelled to tag it in to some kind of near death golden trilogy. Is it asperger's syndrome I wonder? Is it important that Dylan finishes on a prime number of magnificent albums? Let's hope it's 5 instead of 3.

William Burroughs Doesn't Like Violence

Pictures from the Trip

Ok so we just landed into Santa Fe, New Mexico after a day of drivingthrough the desert. Since New Orleans, we've been in Austin which wasgreat, went swimming in a massive natural spring fed swimming pool,ate all you can eat BBQ, saw 1.5 million bats at sunset and a fewbeers to boot. Then on the road again across the state of Texas whichis huge, went horse riding in Bandero, Tx then on to Carlsbad NewMexico this morning. Went caving first thing this morning, apparantlywe descended 750 feet or so, then on to Roswell New Mexico, which iswhere the crazy Americans see all those UFOs. It was a bit of a letdown but we did play the x-files theme a few times. So tomorrow we'rehitting Santa Fe, then native american colony tomorrow night, followedby some white water rafting in Colorado by the early weekend. Beencrazy driving in the desert and watching storm come in, lightningstriking, heavy rains, land as far as the eye can see.Needless to say we're still getting on great, no fights as yet!! The rest of my pictures from the trip are in the flikr bar below.

Neil from New Orleans

So we've just arrived into New Orleans last night, a little tired after the first 1,500 miles of travelling. Passed through 9 states now at this stage already, its been amazing so far. Memphis was a personal favourite so far, headin down Beale Street listening to live blues from every single pub in the area after an afternoon in Graceland, followed by a long drive through the Mississppi delta, cotton and cornfield as far as the eye can see. About to head off to see some of the major destruction Katrina caused,will send some more pics on again at a later stage.

Music Reporter Ambitions Scuppered

I have recieved yet another knockback from a magazine for my application to be a music reporter. I have pasted the correspondance below - maybe someone could tell me where I am going wrong.

Dear Sir,

Thank you for your recent application for the post of Music Reporter at Digital Spy.Unfortunately I am unable to offer you a position with Digital Spy at this time. Please note however that we received an exceptionally high level of interest in all of our advertised positions and we will be keeping your details on file for future consideration.Thanks again for your interest and we wish you all the best for the future.

Kind regards

James Welsh on behalf of Neil Wilkes

On 13/7/2006, you wrote:

Dear Mr Wilkes,

I noticed that you've advertised for a music reporter position and I'd like to declare my interest in pursuing the position. I majored in Economics (for my terrible Catholic sins) and have just completed a Reseach Masters based on Evolutionary Pyschology, but music has always been my driving passion.

Growing up in the neighbourhood minder's house (a kind of Irish Kibbutz) I was routinely locked away in a room on my own, as the minder (Mammy Mary) recognised that I was most cooperative at meal time if I had several hours of Prince records. I have, since my teens, been a member of some sort of music group. Over the last few years I've divided my time between college work, barwork, karaoke rental (business purposes) and music reviews for college magazines. I also have a blog (www.clickerconspiracy.blogspot.com) that reviews albums in a more personal/lazy way. The initial intention for the blog was to make an effort to contribute to the popularity of my favourite band Silver Jews and I have consistently endeavoured to convince readers to celebrate their particular brand of magic by getting lines from Silver Jews songs tattooed on their person. However I am realistic about this issue and don't judge the success of the blog solely on the basis of those participating in Silver Jews worship.

Here are a few links to album reviews that have been used on the blog and in various college publications:

Aphex Twin - Richard D. James Album
The Flaming Lips - At War With the Mystics

Please note that my CV is attached also and that it records my furious commitment to Economics.Mr Wilkes, I would relish the opportunity to take up this position. Music is my consuming passion and I could develop some decent writing skills if given the opportunity.

Regards.

London Shows

Last night I caught a performance of Sam Shepard's play Fool for Love in The Apollo Theatre off Picadilly. I managed to catch the Box Office before it just sold out and was afforded a front row and centre seat for the show. A sleazy yellow Motel sign blinked above my head and I got very excited about the prospect of a Paris, Texas like drama being played out right in front of my nose. Paris, Texas has always been one of my favourite films and Shepard's screenplay is utterly memorable for its slow spare unravelling. I knew nothing about this play but, it being Shepard, there was bound to be a few downtrodden characters churning over seedy revelations in a sleazy setting.

The other great attraction was seeing Juliette Lewis in the flesh. All the billboards outside the theatre boasted that her performance was "Electrifying" and even if it wasn't, you could just imagine that it was Mallory Knox up there. Either way she was sure to command the stage.

Unfortuneatly the performance itself was less than electrifying. There was a lot of wall punching, tequilla swilling and "Ah don't care 'fyou leeeeave" type of outbursts, but you never felt like there was anything other than a cliched Americana melodrama of cheap motel size proportions going on. Lewis was domineering and looked fantastic in a clingy red dress but she seemed to be lazily riffing on her lines at points and her partner in crime, Martin Henderson, wasn't much more than a silly cowboy-by-numbers. The story itself had the obilgatory sleazy revelation but it had none of the gut wrenching claustrophobia of the sex booth scene in Paris, Texas. There was just nothing genuinely convincing about the supposed passion between the two leads.

Much more enjoyable was Avenue Q the night before the Noel Coward Theatre. I think Steve managed to karaoke his way through most of the songs in the show at his wedding but it didn't spoil the enjoyment of the London audience singing along to stuff like It Sucks To Be Me and The Internet Is For Porn. There was an old Indian couple sitting next to me - he had a cane and she had a neck brace! - and they sang their whole way through the show. I was in tears during their Everyone's A Little Bit Racist duet. And then there were the Bad Idea Bears - instant heroes of mine - beying everyone into Absinthe cocktails and extremely poor decisions. As somebody who earned the nickname of the Patron Saint of Poor Decisions, I was in awe. It's a superbly entertaining show and if you are over in London in the next while you should check it out.