Liam Finn’s been a busy chap since dropping his debut, I’ll Be Lightning, back in 2007. With multiple world tours with the likes of Wilco and Pearl Jam, and fingers in half a dozen musical pies (unfortunately the less said about BARB, last year’s collaboration with the wonderful Lawrence Arabia amongst others, the better), Finn The Younger generally takes full advantage of the opportunities offered by some fortuitous family connections.
Which is not to say that he hasn’t proven himself as a solid performer in his own right. His debut contained some lovely moments, imparting with manic energy a vital sense of the world opening up. Such points are few on angst-fuelled second album FOMO (= Fear Of Missing Out), the prevailing mood instead being one of subdued melancholy, occasionally riven by a barely contained agitation. A prime example is first single ‘The Struggle’, in which Finn is perhaps aiming towards the misanthropic excesses of uncle Tim’s darker moments but instead comes off, well, adolescent. It’s a problem that also besets ‘Little Words’: “desire / now it has gone / you’re pretty much dead to me”. Wow… Harsh. That said, he never lets you forget his talent: ‘Roll of the Eye’ is excellent, ‘Cold Feet’ is a surprisingly upbeat slice of power pop, and ‘Chase The Seasons’ possesses all the self-deprecating generosity so conspicuously absent elsewhere.
Given the length of the shadows he’s working under (Liam is not Neil, nor should he be expected to be), it’s unsurprising that Finn has a few insecurities to shake out. But by the time FOMO hits frenetic album closer ‘Jump Your Bones’ he’s managed to convince you that though he’s not quite there yet, it’s only a matter of time.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 417, June 20th 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
Vetiver - The Errant Charm
The Errant Charm is Vetiver’s fifth full-length release since their self-titled debut back in 2004. The first two largely lived up to the freak-folk moniker that rubbed off from a productive symbiotic relationship with Devendra Banhart, playing The Band to his Dylan, before Vetiver’s songsmith Andy Cabic flaunted his musical erudition with Thing Of The Past – an unassuming but sublime collection of covers of the folk-pop of yesteryear (c. ’68-’73). 2009’s Tight Knit bore the fruits of this back catalogue-mining, and Cabic’s latest collection continues the trend; it’s an exquisitely mellow crop of chillaxed day-glo pop.
Opener ‘It’s Beyond Me’ sets the tone, with Cabic “just a passerby” watching “shameless games”; “I used to understand them / til the rules were changed” he sings, vocals blending inconspicuously into the mix, washed over by quavering licks of pedal steel before Cabic ultimately admits defeat with a bemused smile in the face of the world’s fickle moods, remaining aloof in a world of his own. Things don’t stay downbeat for long, as Cabic muses on receiving the blunt end of reality’s stick (‘Wonder Why’) or getting ready to fight back (‘Can’t You Tell’), with both tracks benefiting from his talent for concocting instantly catchy hooks.
Elsewhere, ‘Right Away’ exhibits pleasing country inflections, though nowhere near the degree of the pounding stomp of ‘Ride Ride Ride’ – it would be difficult to accuse Cabic of originality, but that’s hardly the purpose of the exercise. Before its dissolution in the lava-lamp-lit glow of ‘Soft Glass’, The Errant Charm manages to encapsulate the spirit of searching whimsy that’s suggested by its title.
The Errant Charm is a record that demands to be lived with, its depths slowly revealed a dozen spins down the line.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 417, June 20th 2011
Opener ‘It’s Beyond Me’ sets the tone, with Cabic “just a passerby” watching “shameless games”; “I used to understand them / til the rules were changed” he sings, vocals blending inconspicuously into the mix, washed over by quavering licks of pedal steel before Cabic ultimately admits defeat with a bemused smile in the face of the world’s fickle moods, remaining aloof in a world of his own. Things don’t stay downbeat for long, as Cabic muses on receiving the blunt end of reality’s stick (‘Wonder Why’) or getting ready to fight back (‘Can’t You Tell’), with both tracks benefiting from his talent for concocting instantly catchy hooks.
Elsewhere, ‘Right Away’ exhibits pleasing country inflections, though nowhere near the degree of the pounding stomp of ‘Ride Ride Ride’ – it would be difficult to accuse Cabic of originality, but that’s hardly the purpose of the exercise. Before its dissolution in the lava-lamp-lit glow of ‘Soft Glass’, The Errant Charm manages to encapsulate the spirit of searching whimsy that’s suggested by its title.
The Errant Charm is a record that demands to be lived with, its depths slowly revealed a dozen spins down the line.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 417, June 20th 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Interview: Beck Cole & Shai Pittman, Here I Am
Cinematic representations of indigenous life often seem to dwell upon the tragic aspects of the past, the overpowering weight of a traumatic history obscuring ongoing efforts to improve life in the present. While powerful and confronting films have been made on the ongoing disintegration of indigenous cultures in remote areas, stories dealing with the experiences of indigenous people in urban areas are rarely, if ever, told. With her debut feature Here I Am, writer/director Beck Cole has broken this mould, constructing a quietly engrossing portrait of city life for indigenous women in contemporary Australia that is imbued with gentle humour and a thoughtful and unassuming optimism.
Here I Am follows the struggles of Karen Burden (Shai Pittman) in her attempts to turn her life around on being released from prison. Desperate to regain custody of her young daughter Rosie (Quinaiha Scott) from her unforgiving mother Lois (Marcia Langton) while persuading the authorities that she’s put her drug-addled past behind her, Karen enters a women’s shelter run by the formidable Big Red (Vanessa Worrall), settling into the emotional hard work of straightening out her life.
Working from her own script, Cole’s film illuminates the reality of a “fairly common experience” through a simple but effective naturalistic style that allows her to lay bare the human story behind the statistics. “Karen comes from me really,” she says, “my experience and what concerns me and the things that I think Aboriginal women experience...There is a disproportionate number of Indigenous women in prison in this country, that’s a fact...You’re making a film that you hope will engage an audience, because everyone’s got a mother, most people are parents at some point in their lives, so it’s dealing with universal themes. But it is also taking you into a world where you (probably) haven’t been before, one that really exists.”
In this film, Beck Cole draws on her experience making documentaries—her previous work includes Making Samson & Delilah (2009) as well as the brilliant SBS series First Australians (2008) with Rachel Perkins—and the half-hour drama Plains Empty (2005), which also followed the experiences of a lone woman. Cole shot Here I Am on location in the “familiar territory” of Port Adelaide (her upbringing being punctuated by regular moves between Alice Springs and South Australia) to lend the film an inimitable aura of realism. “We were in that world all the time,” she comments, “it was a really good grounding, a reality check, to be making a story amongst it...we were really welcome there. [Adelaide’s] like a big country town, really laid back.”
Immaculately shot amongst cheap motels, decaying industrial infrastructure and cigarette-butt littered streets by director of photography (and Cole’s husband) Warwick Thornton, Here I Am is grounded by an extraordinary performance from Shai Pittman, who approached her task with similar energy and persistence to her director. “I love doing this style of work,” she enthuses. “I suppose being an actor you’ve got to be quite open to diverse, different people...Karen was really easy to relate to. There were times when I just thought, okay, this is a test...[but] I did it all, never questioned it.” Says Cole, “Shai was completely and utterly fearless.”
Karen’s story plays out against the backdrop of the women’s shelter, the makeshift camaraderie among the residents leavening the desolation that continually threatens to overwhelm her. As Cole notes, “it’s important to have a laugh in dire situations.” As well as giving roles to theatre veterans Betty Sumner and Pauline Whyman, Cole drew on predominantly Indigenous, non-professional actors from the local community in casting the supporting roles, their efforts adding to the film’s raw honesty. “I like to try and find the heart in people, get them to express that,” explains Cole, “but when you’re putting words in their mouths you’re dealing with something else, it’s a different scenario...It was challenging, and I think it’s just something that you’ve got to embrace and look for those little quirky moments...That’s what I like. I think you can tell when there’s that essence of that person’s heart in that moment on screen.”
Indeed, the roles of many of the institutional figures encountered by Karen—her parole officer, a job-seeking coordinator, a child welfare officer—are played by Indigenous women who hold similar positions off-screen, a decision that Cole believes reflects an encouraging trend in reality. “I’ve got loads of friends who work in those sorts of jobs...Women are in these jobs, right across the country. I think it’s a statement about employment, a statement about taking control of your own destiny and getting to change things for the better—you’ve gotta get in there and work from within. It’s not rocket science.”
Which doesn’t mean it’s easy. Against Pittman’s smudged and battered Karen, Cole sets the stony and unrelenting figure of Lois, who has achieved a position of stability through hard, repetitive but essentially restorative labour—she is employed, significantly, as a cleaner. Langton, a renowned academic and social activist, was by all accounts an inspiration on set, reading Senate Notes between takes—when not on Facebook. “She’s very strong,” says Pittman. “She reminds me of Indigenous mothers and grandmothers these days [who are] just like her; she’s strong like that. It was just like having my grandmother on set, or my mum.”
Much of the emotional power of the film comes from the ultimate reassertion of Karen’s individual dignity and sense of self-worth against the contemptuous judgement of her mother and society at large. In a remarkable scene towards the end of the film, she takes a shower, a simple symbolic act shot with uncomplicated grace. “I reckon you can forgive,” Cole muses, “...[but] the thing that is really hard to shake is shame...When I was thinking about Karen I was thinking: how do you get over the shame of neglecting a child? Because that is mega-shame. How do you forgive yourself for that? You can’t, all you can do is try to forget it—and you can’t do that either...It’s a hard question.”
A willingness to confront hard questions seems to lie at the heart of Cole’s filmmaking. As with other contemporary Indigenous filmmakers such as Ivan Sen (Beneath Clouds and more recently Toomelah) or Thornton (Samson & Delilah), Cole has received immense support from the Indigenous Branch of Screen Australia who recognise the importance of talented Indigenous storytellers sharing their stories. “I think there’s...an important place for films like [Rolf de Heer’s] The Tracker (2002) and others,” says Cole, “the more the merrier—the history of this country being told from all its perspectives is an important thing. But the reason why there’s a lot of support for films made by Aboriginal people about Aboriginal people has been largely I think due to a commitment by Screen Australia and its Indigenous Branch... it’s been strategic I think, and it’s great that there’s been such a high calibre of films released. It’s no longer this bullshit ooga-booga blackfella sort of stuff. These are stories that audiences can sink their teeth into and enjoy. That’s all you want for someone who’s paying 15 bucks to see a film...Now there’s more of a push to get the next group of people through, to keep this momentum up. It’s an exciting time to be a filmmaker in this country—particularly an Aboriginal one.”
Here I Am follows the struggles of Karen Burden (Shai Pittman) in her attempts to turn her life around on being released from prison. Desperate to regain custody of her young daughter Rosie (Quinaiha Scott) from her unforgiving mother Lois (Marcia Langton) while persuading the authorities that she’s put her drug-addled past behind her, Karen enters a women’s shelter run by the formidable Big Red (Vanessa Worrall), settling into the emotional hard work of straightening out her life.
Working from her own script, Cole’s film illuminates the reality of a “fairly common experience” through a simple but effective naturalistic style that allows her to lay bare the human story behind the statistics. “Karen comes from me really,” she says, “my experience and what concerns me and the things that I think Aboriginal women experience...There is a disproportionate number of Indigenous women in prison in this country, that’s a fact...You’re making a film that you hope will engage an audience, because everyone’s got a mother, most people are parents at some point in their lives, so it’s dealing with universal themes. But it is also taking you into a world where you (probably) haven’t been before, one that really exists.”
In this film, Beck Cole draws on her experience making documentaries—her previous work includes Making Samson & Delilah (2009) as well as the brilliant SBS series First Australians (2008) with Rachel Perkins—and the half-hour drama Plains Empty (2005), which also followed the experiences of a lone woman. Cole shot Here I Am on location in the “familiar territory” of Port Adelaide (her upbringing being punctuated by regular moves between Alice Springs and South Australia) to lend the film an inimitable aura of realism. “We were in that world all the time,” she comments, “it was a really good grounding, a reality check, to be making a story amongst it...we were really welcome there. [Adelaide’s] like a big country town, really laid back.”
Immaculately shot amongst cheap motels, decaying industrial infrastructure and cigarette-butt littered streets by director of photography (and Cole’s husband) Warwick Thornton, Here I Am is grounded by an extraordinary performance from Shai Pittman, who approached her task with similar energy and persistence to her director. “I love doing this style of work,” she enthuses. “I suppose being an actor you’ve got to be quite open to diverse, different people...Karen was really easy to relate to. There were times when I just thought, okay, this is a test...[but] I did it all, never questioned it.” Says Cole, “Shai was completely and utterly fearless.”
Karen’s story plays out against the backdrop of the women’s shelter, the makeshift camaraderie among the residents leavening the desolation that continually threatens to overwhelm her. As Cole notes, “it’s important to have a laugh in dire situations.” As well as giving roles to theatre veterans Betty Sumner and Pauline Whyman, Cole drew on predominantly Indigenous, non-professional actors from the local community in casting the supporting roles, their efforts adding to the film’s raw honesty. “I like to try and find the heart in people, get them to express that,” explains Cole, “but when you’re putting words in their mouths you’re dealing with something else, it’s a different scenario...It was challenging, and I think it’s just something that you’ve got to embrace and look for those little quirky moments...That’s what I like. I think you can tell when there’s that essence of that person’s heart in that moment on screen.”
Indeed, the roles of many of the institutional figures encountered by Karen—her parole officer, a job-seeking coordinator, a child welfare officer—are played by Indigenous women who hold similar positions off-screen, a decision that Cole believes reflects an encouraging trend in reality. “I’ve got loads of friends who work in those sorts of jobs...Women are in these jobs, right across the country. I think it’s a statement about employment, a statement about taking control of your own destiny and getting to change things for the better—you’ve gotta get in there and work from within. It’s not rocket science.”
Which doesn’t mean it’s easy. Against Pittman’s smudged and battered Karen, Cole sets the stony and unrelenting figure of Lois, who has achieved a position of stability through hard, repetitive but essentially restorative labour—she is employed, significantly, as a cleaner. Langton, a renowned academic and social activist, was by all accounts an inspiration on set, reading Senate Notes between takes—when not on Facebook. “She’s very strong,” says Pittman. “She reminds me of Indigenous mothers and grandmothers these days [who are] just like her; she’s strong like that. It was just like having my grandmother on set, or my mum.”
Much of the emotional power of the film comes from the ultimate reassertion of Karen’s individual dignity and sense of self-worth against the contemptuous judgement of her mother and society at large. In a remarkable scene towards the end of the film, she takes a shower, a simple symbolic act shot with uncomplicated grace. “I reckon you can forgive,” Cole muses, “...[but] the thing that is really hard to shake is shame...When I was thinking about Karen I was thinking: how do you get over the shame of neglecting a child? Because that is mega-shame. How do you forgive yourself for that? You can’t, all you can do is try to forget it—and you can’t do that either...It’s a hard question.”
A willingness to confront hard questions seems to lie at the heart of Cole’s filmmaking. As with other contemporary Indigenous filmmakers such as Ivan Sen (Beneath Clouds and more recently Toomelah) or Thornton (Samson & Delilah), Cole has received immense support from the Indigenous Branch of Screen Australia who recognise the importance of talented Indigenous storytellers sharing their stories. “I think there’s...an important place for films like [Rolf de Heer’s] The Tracker (2002) and others,” says Cole, “the more the merrier—the history of this country being told from all its perspectives is an important thing. But the reason why there’s a lot of support for films made by Aboriginal people about Aboriginal people has been largely I think due to a commitment by Screen Australia and its Indigenous Branch... it’s been strategic I think, and it’s great that there’s been such a high calibre of films released. It’s no longer this bullshit ooga-booga blackfella sort of stuff. These are stories that audiences can sink their teeth into and enjoy. That’s all you want for someone who’s paying 15 bucks to see a film...Now there’s more of a push to get the next group of people through, to keep this momentum up. It’s an exciting time to be a filmmaker in this country—particularly an Aboriginal one.”
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