Vinyl Lounge at the National Film & Sound Archive

The Vinyl Lounge

As I entered the room (a few minutes late) they were playing some early-70s rock music from Rod Argent. Shortly afterwards, they played some Captain Beefheart. “Oh dear, this is not my kind of music”, I thought to myself. But I decided to stick around, because I thought it was such a cool idea: a once a month vinyl records “party” in a theatrette at the National Film and Sound Archive.

Although I grew up with vinyl, and am aware of the recent re-discovery of vinyl by the “young folk”, I don’t really look back with fondness to the days of scratches, crackles and records getting stuck. I don’t remember thinking as a ten year old I love the sound of the scratches and crackles : it was the nightmare scenario that meant I would often buy two copies of a record I really loved: one to play and one to keep “for good”. I also don’t really buy the argument vinyl sounds better than CD. I don’t even think it sounds as good as a high quality mp3. But there are two things vinyl has going for it over modern musical formats: the large format album covers and the mesmerising quality of watching the album go around and around.

And that’s what I did for a while. And then the music changed: there was some Georgie Fame, there was some Louis Prima, there was Tina Turner singing “River Deep, Mountain High”. Now those albums really did sound good on vinyl. I suspect it’s because the artists and producers were working to the vinyl format, and thus their attitudes towards recording and production were informed by the format. That’s when I stopped watching the vinyl go round and closed my eyes and listened to the music being played a couple of massive old Tannoy speakers. They must have weighed a tonne.

I also really loved the passion evident in the room, as those attending (forty or fifty people) were asked to introduce their vinyl selection. Even though I really hated the Captain Beefheart track, you could hear from her voice that the young woman who introduced it really loved it. The woman who introduced Louis Prima wasn’t as articulate in the words she used, but you could also tell she really loved her track also. Canberra music legend, David Kilby was also there. I worked with David twenty years ago and would have loved to have said hi briefly, though I wasn’t sure if he would remember me, and he was pretty much surrounded by “groupies”, so I wandered on.

The last track to be played was one of my all time favourites, Rattlesnakes, a track from Lloyd Cole’s first album. The guy running the afternoon told how he had bought the album in a three way split with friends back in 1984. It was an album that accompanied me through my days at university. I still vividly remember lifting the needle and dropping it on that album, as I spent my days in a small room apartment on campus. I have the album on both CD and mp3, and it sounds much better now, to be honest.

So yeah, a sweet way to spend an hour this afternoon in Canberra. At the end of the event, the host said they’re moving to the first Friday of every month, with drinks from 5.00pm, and vinyl from 5.30.


monicaz

Monica Z

The last couple of weeks have been reasonably busy, and so I haven’t managed to immerse myself in the Scandinavian Film Festival as I’d hoped. There was one film, however, I definitely wanted to see on the big screen, having previously seen it only a small screen: the movie about the life of Swedish jazz singer, Monica Zetterlund.

I’d first heard about Monica twenty or thirty years ago, as Frida from ABBA had described her as one of her idols. The story of a jazz singer from a small country town who, in 1960s Sweden, has to find a balance between career and family is a theme in both their lives.

In the time since, I’ve come to know and really enjoy Monica’s work. I think my favourite song of hers is her Swedish language version of “Take 5″: it’s a great tune, sung with passion and energy. The film explains this particular song, and many of her others, comes from Monica’s desire to sing (mostly in Swedish) about things in her life. The film details a meeting with Ella Fitzgerald, where Ella, quite directly tells her not to sing about New Orleans and other such things (the staples of 1950s and 1960s jazz), but about stuff she knows.

Monica’s own experiences of travelling to New York are documented in the film: an early disastrous performance where the show was shut down because her backing musicians were black; and a later more successful show that brings her family and friends to tears. The film documents a difficult relationship with her father who lives in the small town of Hagfors. “Do you have any idea where that is?”, I whispered to Grant. Later, over a drink, we looked it up, locating it in the middle of Sweden, towards the border with Norway. There’s a really funny scene in the movie (which I won’t spoil) about Monica’s personal vow never to return to Hagfors.

I really loved this film. It’s a great story. Great music. Features great performances. And has beautiful cinematography which deserves the big screen. I really hope the film gets a broader cinematic run in Australia.

PS: After watching the movie we went out for a drink and a chat. We joked we should have played the “Monica Zetterlund Drinking Game”. It’s the game where you watch the film and have a drink every time she does. You would end up pretty sloshed pretty quickly. She liked a drink or 25,000, it seems.


Grace Jones

Walking In The Rain

I first heard/saw the song “Walking In The Rain” when the video clip of Grace Jones performing the song was first played on Countdown. I was about seventeen years old at the time and was completely blown away by the clip. In particular, the strong androgynous imagery of Grace Jones echoed by the song line “Feeling like a woman, looking like a man”.

For me, Grace Jones’ version has always been the definitive version, even though it was first performed (and written) by the Australian group, “Flash & The Pan”. But today on the radio, I heard Doc Neeson’s version. I’ve never been a big fan of Doc Neeson and his band. “The Angels”, but this version really stood out. It has a Nick Cave feel about it. Also a later Johnny Cash feel to it. I love the brass, I love Doc’s deliberate style.

So, I thought it would be worth sharing these three versions (that I’m aware of) with you.

1979 – Flash & The Pan

1981 – Grace Jones

2014 – Doc Neeson