This article was published in Capital Maghttp://capitalmag.ca/fred-herzog-vancouver-photographs-vancouver-art-gallery-jan-25-may-15
Fred Herzog – Vancouver Photographs (Vancouver Art Gallery, Jan 25 - May 15 2007)
Fred Herzog’s photography exhibition is extensive, almost excessive. But this arrangement of overabundance traverses the visual spectrum. It often depicts images of overcrowded streets, jammed full of bright neon and gaudy advertisements, or shop windows teeming with row upon row of similar products, priced and hung like carcasses, waiting to be plucked. The unifying theme that gathers these pictures together is the sense of a city shaped by its economy, dominated by its impact and divided by its effects.
Shot on Kodachrome, a slide film of deep tones and sharp resolution, Herzog’s pictures are presented in vibrant and sometimes lurid colours that reinforce the nature of the content. Day and night shots of Granville Street are a garish collection of illuminated crimson advertising billboards, swarming the Vancouver skyline in Day-Glo reds, yellows and blues. Stores are enveloped in dazzling painted letters and - laid out with goods for trade – blankets of overwhelming colour juxtapose against the otherwise dull concrete tones of a city. Radiant objects are regularly centered in the frame, an orange hat or red balloon, or people gesticulating or caught in moments of animated spontaneity. There are views inside the store windows, barbershops and cafes, and of figures lining the streets, sharing joke or standing in doorways watching the activity of the street amongst the dominant energy of consumer culture.
Jackpot (1961) is an evocative view of gamblers congregated around a gaming table, in perfect composition and expressive stances, looking beyond the frame towards the possibility of triumph. News Shop (1960) reveals a magazine centerfold hanging amongst limp impotent deflated balloons, and Kits Beach (1957), one of the few monochrome pictures in the collection, exposes changing room doorways and the jarring segregation of black and white bathers as they step out of separate exits. Here Herzog’s singular images uncover the tensions of social inequality with a clear and concise aesthetic.
Herzog’s pictures often recall the work of Robert Frank or William Egglestone and their photographic depiction of mid to late 20th century Americana, and this collection deals with a similar period and society. Even later photographs like Crossing Powell (1984) look as if they were shot in the 1950s. Herzog’s vision of Vancouver rarely contemplates the distinctions between Canadian and American culture, preferring to address the notion of a public situated within a land of consumption and desire. Here Vancouver is represented as a city of colour, one more realm of commercial influence denoted by the bold visual authority of the advertisement and the product – though one that Herzog makes singularly beautiful.
Diversions Issue - April 2007
http://capitalmag.ca/music-reviews-flux-edition
The Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
In contrast to a debut album that dealt with the dread of mortality and the catharsis of grief, this sophomore release widens The Arcade Fire’s outlook beyond the anxiety of a troubled interior to that of a troubled world. The overall theme here is one of lurking Armageddon, but like its predecessor, this album considers the darkness with a sense of exhilaration. Much of the exuberance comes from the instrumental momentum that manages to belie the foreboding content. Win Butler rails against a sick society on the verge of war and the entrenched limitations of its subjects on an album named after a novel depicting social intolerance, while the musical arrangements build and reach an intense harmonious zenith. As incongruous as the bleak subject matter may seem to these accelerating compositions, The Arcade Fire deliver an augmented sense of taut anticipation. The end of the world never sounded so good.
Flux Issue - March 2007
http://capitalmag.ca/veda-hille-and-a-grande-ensemble-of-pals-christian-martius
Veda Hille and a Grand Ensemble of Pals
Vancouver East Cultural Centre - 01/29/07
A very warm reception greeted Veda Hille and her Grand Ensemble of Pals at the Vancouver East Cultural Centre. A fierce applause echoed around the interior and in-between the performers before she could even sit on her piano stool. Commissioned by the Push festival to present a new set of songs and deliver a reworked version of Field Study, this audience knew that on a very foggy night in January, something special was about to be shared. Veda Hille was home.
Field Study, a suite based on experiences in the northern territory, began with the complementary video by Shawn Chappelle, and immediately the audience was plunged into a rich song cycle of welcome reflection. With the resonance of her distinctive voice and the drama of her thundering piano, Veda Hille lead her band into perfectly assembled and elaborate musical passages. Accompanied by intense lyrical meditations on the natural world and the dynamic possibilities of a full band, Field Study is an overwhelming musical suite dealing with wonder, tragedy, and the fragility of existence. Such a passionate and powerful piece reverberated deep in the intimate space.
The second set of the night was the debut of Veda Hille’s forthcoming album, This Riot Life. Of the shorter songs that followed, some were playful while others continued in the theme of environmental awe evoked by Field Study. Tiny Casio keyboards were plonked in unison; hymns were cut up and reworked like beat poetry and 19th century romantic verse was transformed by Veda’s expressive singing. All compositions were similarly pristine and affecting.
By the end of the concert the audience responded by rising to their feet and cheering. They clapped louder than they did at the beginning, their participation book-ending an enriching expression of musical and emotional depth.
Fictions Issue - February 2007
Bloc Party - A Weekend in the City
When the new facsimiles of Gang of Four, Talking Heads and early Orange Juice appeared a few years ago it seemed that the indie world was stuck with an aural glut of post punk nostalgia. Lumped in with that crowd was Bloc Party, who at their most basic seemed like the identikit sonic equivalent of Gang of Four without the politics. However, despite the duplicated influences apparent on their first album they did have a sense of urgency and excitement that surpassed many of their contemporaries.
Now in 2007 Bloc Party have released their sophomore album, A Weekend in the City, a sort of indie concept album portraying modern metropolitan life in the 21st century and as grand and ambitious as this seems, they appear to have lost much of what made them significant in the first place.
Gone are most of the rhythmic dynamics of Silent Alarm and instead a lyrical candor sits uncomfortably amongst the choral chants and bursts of cascading jerky guitar. Kele Okerere’s voice is at the forefront here announcing words like, “Modernity” and phrases like, “Liberal Thought,” all delivered in a strained vernacular that can’t help but seem a little pompous. Problematically, as substantial as these sentiments seem to be, nothing overly profound is being communicated throughout A Weekend in the City.
Waiting for the 7.18 may tap into the shared experience of many a commuting Londoner or On may realistically chart the results of imbibing cocaine, but such unexceptional and commonplace judgments do little to expand the awareness. Additionally Bloc Party hinder their own intentions by constructing a rather lukewarm instrumental backing full of open spaces that fall short of the epic quality required. By being bold they over extend and dilute themselves. Still, on a handful of tracks like The Prayer, Hunting for Witches and I Still Remember they gather together in the spirit of their former exhilaration.
In places it is apparent that Bloc Party still have it in them to impress but on A Weekend in the City the band are struggling too hard to reach some kind of meaningful kudos that even Kele Okerere himself pinpoints can be a problem. On one song he even sings, “Giant proclamations are all very well...” Indeed.
Issue 3 - February 2007
Morrissey: Dear Hero Imprisoned
There really is no one like Morrissey, which is something of
an accepted fact, whether you worship at his gladioli strewn feet or consider
him some crabby vaudeville island of complaint. For nearly a quarter of a
century he’s been with us, intermittently bolstering our fervor, bulldozing
over preconceptions and getting up some of the noses of people that deserve it,
and some that don’t. It’s good to be reminded that Morrissey’s rather
opinionated talent still exists when his bland heirs are unoriginal and
inarticulate and seem to value confidence over any semblance of artistry. But
since 1987 (the year The Smiths broke up) there’s been an abyss around
Morrissey and that fissure of nothingness isn’t a deliberate mystification but
rather an empty yawning chasm of loss. It’s not Morrissey’s fault but there’s a
void, a vacant space next to him, once filled by The Smiths guitarist Johnny
Marr.
Much has been said
before about the great alliance between Morrissey and Marr and it’s important
to remember that The Smiths were a band, not some backing outfit for the
singer, despite the legal battles and bad blood that followed the split and
despite Morrissey being the main focal point of attention under the golden
lights. The Smiths were unlike anything that reared its ugly head in the 80’s.
There were echoes of folk rock in the arrangements, but in a era when every
artist seemed to be a magenta polka dot reeking of nasty ambition and an over
abundance of synth laziness, Marr’s musical compositions coupled with that
voice and those words were an arrow to the heart, sharp, pointed and
devastating. And now twenty years on Morrissey’s voice may have lowered in
pitch and the lyrics still have the wit and the verve, but his new backing has produced
fairly plodding, generic and quite boring musical accompaniments.
The musical template
of his solo career, that jangly pre 1966 rock sound coupled with 70’s glam
stomp hasn’t strayed too much from what was realized in The Smiths, especially
when you consider that his first backing band constituted what was left of the
Smiths once Marr had left. The guitarist Vini Reilly also managed a fairly
successful impersonation of the kind of sound that Morrissey required on his
first post Smiths outing. The ingredients were there but overall, sonically
there seemed to be nothing going on of any interest apart from a fairly
pleasant guitar line that borders somewhere between T Rex and The Byrds.
It’s Morrissey’s
voice and words that come to the fore in his solo work and most of the old
Smiths fans probably wish him enough good will to ignore the repeated mediocre
musical counterpoint and concentrate on just him. The phrase, ‘solo artist’
couldn’t be more applicable. To some Morrissey’s career has been one long arc
of sustained idiosyncrasies punctuated by songs of yearning and loneliness.
Compartmentalized by glib journalistic adjectives and reduced by his own
jingoistic sentiments Morrissey’s public persona has overshadowed his
accomplishments in The Smiths, especially when the pseudo session musicians
behind him produce nothing of the detail, dynamic or originality of his former
band. Morrissey after all seems to carry the burden of his talents alone. Maybe
one day he will receive the backing he deserves.
Issue 3 - February 2007
This live review was published on Reading Vancouver
http://readingv.readingcities.com
Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy
St James Hall, Kitsilano
The performance that follows is one of sublime full band wig out, complete with vocal, instrumental and conversational interplay between various band members. Bonnie Prince Billy himself flips and flops on stage while holding his guitar in what looks like a very uncomfortable position, his soulful fragile vowels interjecting grace and focus to what seems to be a man either in the grip of religious fervor or vicious constipation. Veins spiral up the forehead and teeth clench in expressions that are wholly incongruous to what is heard. The picture he gives is not the same as the sound.
It seems to be no accident that his latest
album is called, Letting Go and let go the band do as Will Oldham leads his
companions into a territory of eloquence and charm that stretches far beyond
the reaches of the pseudo emotive expressions of the bourgeois indie ballad.
This is for real. These tender moments even manage to shut up the ever present
audience members who have nothing to say in the loudest of shouts; the small
and meaningful wins out over the big and ignorant under these rafters. This
sweet voice delivers paeans to God, love and the bittersweet experience of life
and in the
November 2006
This live review was published on Reading Vancouver
http://readingv.readingcities.com
Parlor Steps &
The Lovely Feathers
The Media Club
Parlor Steps, a local band, have branded themselves as “Thought Rock” so I’m
inclined to believe there was going to be a histrionic display of complicated
harmonies and intricate thought out instrumentation, like Good Vibrations
ciphered through the indulgence of
Parlor Steps were a very different kind of band. Using traditional indie rock
balladry as a foundation they built upon each successive song with
quiet-loud-quiet-loud dynamics and a democracy of vocals. The songs were the
bricks of a house slowly coming into view. Only by the end of the set could you
know where the Parlor Steps were going to go and by the time the house had been
built the audience was theirs.
Lovely Feathers were a jolt to the senses. Leaping out of the rich seam of
talent coming from
Between the numbers, tales of lost singers are told and 80’s vinyl is thrown to
a hungry crowd. They continue on with a bursts of Kraut-rocky synth and rhythm
until the Lovely Feathers close their set with such a pleasurable crescendo
that it ejects the audience with a smile into the outside; where the terriers
and shorthairs are talking out innocent pedestrians...
November 2007