Light Clothing, Snow

In this hot weather
I dream of walking in snow
Wearing light clothing

Revolver by The Beatles

OK, it’s no secret that I’m going to give this five stars. This was the album where the Beatles and producer George Martin began to realise exactly what they could do with the recording studio, crafting what initially seems like a disparate selection of songs, with each member of the Fab Four bringing their ideas to life with help from the rest (mostly). 

In retrospect, McCartney is probably the one with the clearest vision of what he wants to do (and the stubbornness to do it on his own, if pushed), compared with Lennon’s cynicism, George’s mysticism and Ringo’s sense of the absurd, but this album shows that they were doing things together that they simply couldn’t have done on their own.

• Taxman. George Harrison moaning about the 95% tax rate on unearned income is an odd choice for an opener (and probably sounded churlish to the average fan saving up to buy records), but it’s a great song nonetheless with a lot of attitude. 
• Eleanor Rigby. A heartbreaking mini-opera with a string accompaniment dealing with poverty, death and loneliness, and the emptiness of religion. We’re a very long way from wanting to hold a girl’s hand now. One of McCartney’s best. 
• I’m Only Sleeping. Another tonal shift with a Lennon song about getting stoned (allegedly) and lazily sleeping the day away. 
• Love You To. After experimenting with the sitar, this was George’s first full on foray with Indian classical music, but lyrically it’s very much sex and drugs. Far out man! 
• Here, There and Everywhere. From Eastern mysticism it’s back to a 50’s style romantic ballad from Paul with immaculate production lifting it up. 
• Yellow Submarine. When I was small, my first experience of the Beatles was listening to this song on Junior Choice on the radio. It’s the only Ringo composition on the album, but the jolly, stomping tune is deceptive and hides a lot of complexity with sound effects and bits of dialogue thrown in that anticipated sampling by at least 20 years. The haters can get it in the bin - I love this track, completely and unironically. 
• She Said, She Said. Not many songs open with the line “I know what it’s like to be dead”. Another song about and inspired by LSD which is something of a theme for this album. 
• Good Day Sunshine. A great McCartney number about the sheer joy of a sunny, summer day. 
• And Your Bird Can Sing. Another deceptively simple song with some very pointed Lennon lyrics about wealthy people complaining about being weighed down with possessions 
• For No One. A very sweet Paul song written about his then girlfriend Jane Asher. This just has Paul playing everything, except for Ringo on drums and was maybe one of the first signs of creative tension in the group. 
• Doctor Robert. Back to the drugs with a very positive message about the power of pharmaceuticals
• I Want to Tell You. The drugs are more concealed on this one, but the oddly discordant melody sets the tone. 
• Got to Get You Into My Life. A great Motown inspired number with a full horn section 
• Tomorrow Never Knows. The whole album has been building to this one, with every studio trick and mystical influence thrown into the mix. Probably the closest thing to the experience of a full on acid trip ever committed to vinyl.

Arguably one of the Beatles’ best, but then again they’re all good albums, Brent.

Mind

AI has no mind
Just stolen words repeated
By empty vessels

The Slim Shady LP by Eminem

With the usual caveats about white men rapping, the best that I can say about this album is that is nearly as good as Dr Dre, if by “good” you mean nasty, violent, misogynistic and homophobic. The inevitable comic skits are painfully puerile and seemingly aimed at 13 year old boys.

I don’t buy the excuse of Slim Shady just being an alter ego for Marshall Mathers, even if he has supposedly killed him off in his latest album. The worst thing on this album is Mathers exploiting the voice of his toddler for a particularly vile track.

Avoid.

Beach, Soup

Einstein on the beach
Drinking soup, contemplating
The nature of time

Rum, Sodomy & The Lash by The Pogues

Who would have thought that a rowdy collection of shambolic Irish folk songs sung by someone that looked like a salutary warning against the perils of alcohol and not brushing your teeth, would be a hit in the middle of the fashion conscious 80s?

This album features a mix of original numbers written by Shane McGowan, traditional songs and a couple of covers to round out the set. Musically, the band is as tight as you could wish for with fiddles, French horns, plaintive uilleann pipes, banjos, tin whistles, accordions and drums combining with considerable energy. Producer Elvis Costello captures the feel of a live performance in a Kilburn pub without ever feeling over-produced.

Frontman Shane McGowan’s voice is something of an acquired taste, but the emotions are heartfelt bringing considerable resonance to songs of life at the bottom of the scrap heap, but there are moments of joy and romance here too, even if they are generally fuelled with a generous slug of whiskey.

The highlight for me was the final song which was a cover of “And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda” by Eric Bogle which is a heartbreaking tale of a wounded Australian veteran returning from the First World War and finding out that there are worse things than dying.

Marty Supreme

Sports biopics usually follow some predictable beats. We focus on a talented outsider battling in the minor leagues, then getting a big break, suffering a setback or two, and finally winning the trophy and/or the girl. This film is … different.

It starts with Marty, a skinny shoe store clerk, carrying on a risky affair with a married woman called Rachel in the stockroom. The opening credits show sperm artfully fertilising an ovum that morphs into a ping-pong ball. OK, wasn’t expecting that. From there things get stranger. Marty robs the store to fund a trip to the table tennis world championships in London where he defrauds the organising committee by staying in the Ritz on expenses, where he starts yet another affair with an actress married to a wealthy pen magnate.

After losing in the final he returns to New York for an extended subplot involving collapsing bathtubs, gangsters, angry farmers and a missing dog. Wait, what? There’s also something about novelty orange ping pong balls and a hustle in a bowling alley to make money to pay off a fine, a stolen necklace (that turns out to be worthless) and bribing a policeman to ignore a case of having sex in the middle of Central Park. Or something. Oh, and the Harlem Globetrotters are somehow involved.

Timothy Chalomet is great in the title role, playing against type as a skinny, intense hustler with glasses, bad skin and a weasly moustache. The character of Marty is supposedly loosely based on the real life Marty Reisman who was still winning table tennis tournaments in his 60s. Whether he got up to half of the exploits in this movie is never really explained.

I’m pretty sure I stayed awake through the two and half hour run time, but there were plenty of moments where the plot takes yet another screeching handbrake turn away from the expected ping pong pic that made me feel I’d missed something.