12 hours later I'm still trying to shove my heart out of my mouth and back down where it belongs.
I can't begin to write sensibly about it yet. But just watch this. 42.05 and 45.35 in are two reasons why he's one of my all time heroes.
Once in a while if you're looking, you get a glimpse of something disturbing with actors. Actually there are lots of disturbing things about actors, but this particular thing has always scared me more than the others. It's the moment when you realise how much of themselves they can sacrifice.
Usually you wouldn't see it, but it's there sometimes when they take their applause - a kind of nothingness. And it's there when you see them move from one part to another before your eyes: they are in-between, and all they are is a void, stretching.
At the same time I'm also a bit in thrall to this kind of denial. There's something tragic and magical and selfless and selfish in it. It's only scary because it's in such contrast to the behaviour that's the opposite, that you see much more often.
And the closest I can get to describing Cat Power's band last Sunday is that they were something like that. For the entire performance they seemed to be in-between, and the effect was a sort of self sacrifice to the music they played. The people included in the arrangement stayed, the ones who weren't sloped off with quiet, insignificant steps. Nothing about them was remarkable apart from the sound they made.
It was as if you could have picked this particular group of people up and put them anywhere: the grand canyon, north Wales, anywhere, and they would play just as they did: brilliantly, quietly. As long as they had Chan Marshall.*
At first I found her frustrating. I'd never seen her live before. I wondered if there'd be a connection at all. She moved round the stage constantly, never making eye contact with her audience, shrouded in murky red light as if she were nothing but an incredible voice coming from a force of atoms that couldn't be contained, but would gently collide and drift from place to place, changing course when it met resistance. As if she didn't really touch the ground. I wanted to see her face but we couldn't, which seemed on purpose.
After ten minutes I realised she was making something extraordinary happen. She'd woven it round the room from the stage right through the crowd, up the walls and through the people up in the balcony and down again, like smoke. When she occasionally stood still to focus, the whole place focused. And when she jumped off stage into the crowd the spell was broken up high where we were; the entire balcony craning to see her again.
It's a strange experience, listening to Cat Power's covers that aren't really covers. Because you actively listen, every time. I can't remember where I heard/read this recently, about how much of listening to music is about expectation, and preempting. I guess what makes something great has to include a certain balance between what the brain wants the next bit to be, and what it doesn't expect. Maybe. I haven't really thought that through.
Every time you hear one of Cat Power's covers, it plays with your expectations of the music (whose original you might or might not love), and creates a new life with the only familiar part: the lyrics. So you hear the lyrics all over again, as if you're discovering them a second time: a new song, but a very old one, like meeting someone you feel sure you've met in another life.
*I realise I've kind of made them sound like session musicians here, which is not what I mean at all. They were incredible. I was just amazed how quietly brilliant it's possible to be.
Really this belongs over here, but it was so good I felt compelled to cover it twice. I'd highly recommend a watch if you have time (I think it's only up a week from now) - I can't imagine anyone who comes here wouldn't love it. I'm not the biggest fan of Alan Yentob's style, but I'm all over his content. Really fascinating.
I'm off to buy the book right here right now.
Little bit more Lykke for you. Because I liked it.
A nice clip for your Monday. I spent time with the family at the weekend, conversation turned - as it always does - to music of the olden days, and to this. Which I've had in my head since.
I just saw this clip on Jools Holland and it was so wonderful I had to put it up here straight away. Humphrey comes in on trumpet about 2.40 in. But watch it all if you have time. Glorious footage (of which there's miles - just start here.)
What a great idea. Just need to figure out which from the grillion possible candidates is my first go.
The frontrunners are Frankie Goes to Hollywood (the video for which I just looked up and realised I can't really face over my sandwich.)
And Positive K (not a whole load more appetising. I guess I see why Jeffre made this all about the audio.)
Welly welly well then. An awful lot to post about. Brazil, new book stuff, new blog stuff, new less deception stuff, and of course general rubbish. So much that at the moment it's resulting in paralysis and total lack of blog flow. So I opted for an easy post instead. Mostly this is what I've been listening to this week. An excellent video from Mattias Montero for Lykke Li, whose shoulder dancing is second to none.
Feist's beautiful new video.
I've been introduced to Flight of the Conchords late, but I love it. This morning has been considerably brightened by this.
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