Skip navigation

Today marks the completion of my first proper soul mixtape, which is entitled Intermediate Soul.

It includes a number of different subgenres spanning at least a couple of decades, that all more or less fall under the banner of soul and funk, broad styles of largely African American-oriented music from the latter half of the 20th Century that I’ve been a fan of for long enough now to have accrued many desert island favorites. This is some of my favorite art made by anyone in any medium, in fact.

The tracklist is as follows…

Side A

Harrison – “Uncle Soul”
Dee Irwin – “I Only Get This Feeling”
Ernie K-Doe – “Mother In Law”
Patti Drew – “Tell Him”
Bobby Reed – “The Time Is Right For Love”
Sparkels – “That Boy Of Mine”
Bobby Rich – “There’s A Girl Somewhere (For Me)”
The Precisions – “Such Misery”
Dena Barnes – “If You Ever Walk Out Of My Life”
Mami Lee – “I Can Feel Him Slipping Away”
Tangeers – “Let My Heart And Soul Be Free”
James Brown – “Why Did You Take Your Love Away From Me”
Yvonne Fair – “Say Yeah Yeah”
Wilmer & The Dukes – “Give Me One More Chance”
Edwin Starr – “Running Back And Forth”
Zu Zu Blues Band – “Zu Zu Man”
Jimmy Burns – “I Really Love You”
The Jades – “Lucky Fellow”

Side B

The Hamilton Movement – “She’s Gone”
The Montclairs – “Hung Up On Your Love”
Swiss Movement – “I Wish Our Love Would Last Forever”
Roddie Joy – “Come Back Baby”
The Fabulous Dynamics – “Get Hip To Yourself”
The Esquires – “Get On Up”
Rokk – “Patience”
Pure Essence – “Third Rock”
Brother To Brother – “In The Bottle”
Frazelle – “Today Is The Day”
Lemuria – “Hunk Of Heaven”
Odyssey – “Battend Ships”
Split Decision Band – “My Love Just For You”
Beau Dollar & The Coins – “Soul Serenade”

I call this tape Intermediate Soul because it goes beyond the well treaded stables of Motown and Stax, for instance, but is still comprised of music that isn’t impossible to track down these days. Essentially what we have here is a compilation made from a handful of vintage 45s, several high-quality bootlegs, as well as some reissued cuts (from LPs and CDs), some of which may have at one point been very obscure but are now more widely available. (Several of these tracks were reissued by the likes of Grapevine, Numero Group, Athens of the North, Jazzman, etc.) So while I’m not at all a digger/”tastemaker” type, or a proper DJ bringing “unknown” tracks to light (as would be befit an “expert-level” soul outing, perhaps?), this mixtape still cooks!

Upon finishing it I realized that a bunch of all-time favorites didn’t get included (not enough room, unfortunately), so maybe by the end of the year an Intermediate Soul Vol. II will be in the works.

This tape isn’t available for purchase anywhere, but if you know me, hit me up and we’ll see if we can get you a copy in due time.

This week sees the release of Up at 4 A.M. – The Definitive Version, a revamping of the debut Tired of Triangles album from a few years ago, available now for the first time on CD (as well as 24-bit digital download). All eight songs were remixed, with a few overdubs added or replaced to take advantage of finer software/gear and my ear for putting together better mixes. The album was professionally mastered and I’m now much happier with the recording as a whole and feel great about it being the third release on Kaji-Pup Records. And as you can see the artwork turned out pretty nice, if I may be so immodest.

This is kind of an “insular” and moody album, made for late night listening, so if you want a party record I’m afraid Up at 4 A.M. – The Definitive Version won’t do the trick. But if you’re game for a good solo rock outing that explores a variety of emotions in just under 22 minutes, this is the gift that keeps on giving. I’ve had to listen to it a zillion times in preparation for the release, and after all of the trials and tribulations that were endured to bring it to light, I’m still fond of it.

You can stream/purchase Up at 4 A.M. – The Definitive Version on Bandcamp at:

Or, if you like, you can listen to it on Spotify HERE.

Agnès Varda

It’s with heavy hearts that film lovers around the world lament the passing of Agnès Varda, a great filmmaker and by nearly all accounts delightful and gentle soul who’s left behind a bold, lively, and endearing body of work. Her 1985 feature Vagabond is one of my ten favorite films—full stop. It’s an uncommonly rich and well directed portrait of a young homeless woman and the people she meets in her final days as she makes her way through a sleepy coastal vacation town at the onset of winter. I’ve seen a lot of movies and narrative cinema doesn’t get much better in my book, but where Varda’s filmography is concerned Vagabond is just the tip of the iceberg. The third chapter of a novel I’m currently writing makes reference to Varda’s underrated effort Kung-Fu Master!, characterizing it as a controversial film that had to be handled with just the right degree of finesse and sensitivity, implying that otherwise the whole thing would’ve fallen apart or seemed like a stunt or mere provocation. This is just one aspect that set Varda apart from the average filmmaker, her ability to navigate her narratives with a gracefulness and fresh vantage point that made her work always feel inviting, regardless of the “difficulty” of a given film’s subject matter. Varda rose to prominence in the mid to late fifties along with a host of other filmmakers related in some way to France’s Nouvelle Vague, but in contrast to her more “prickly” still-living contemporary Jean-Luc Godard, she was very sociable for someone of her stature, even in her final years, where she found acceptance among Hollywood movie stars and mainstream directors, among others. I could go on about what a loss her passing is for cinema, but really Varda’s contribution to film (whether as a feminist, an “art house” giant, or a writer-director period) is such a wonderful thing that I think it’s best to instead celebrate her life and the singular path she took. She was a visionary no doubt, a courageous artist. Rest in peace, Agnès.

Agnès Varda

Susan Andrae on Antiques Roadshow, Season 23, Episode 5

Susan Andrae on Antiques Roadshow, Season 23, Episode 5

My mom, Susan, a swell person (who incidentally has funded several of my low-budget art projects), was featured on Season 23, Episode 5 of Antiques Roadshow on PBS yesterday. She shared an intriguing archive of more than two dozen early-20th-century newspaper illustrations with collectibles appraiser Philip Weiss.

To quote the PBS site:

Done in gouache, many of the camera-ready illustrations were published around 1915 — in the early days of aviation — as part of a publication entitled “How Man Learned to Fly.” They depict assorted visions — fanciful, ambitious, hazardous, or tragic — of human air travel in all its imagined possibilities, from wearable parachute-like wings, to a flying steam-powered bus. […] Almost every picture vividly captures some concept of the future, but as conceived in the past, to our modern eye. As such, Weiss notes, the images hold a strong appeal both for aviation collectors and science-fiction enthusiasts alike.

These prints, which my mom inherited from my grandpa, remind me a bit of a famous Czech adventure film, Karel Zeman’s Invention for Destruction, which I saw not too long ago and would recommend for its creative production values alone!

Anyway, hats off to my mom for getting on TV. This episode of Antiques Roadshow is now available for streaming on the PBS Roku channel.

Pete Shelley of the U.K. punk band Buzzcocks has passed away. In my book Buzzcocks remain one of the most engaging of the original crop of punk bands who took the 1970s by storm. That run of recordings from Spiral Scratch to A Different Kind of Tension has aged better than just about any other rock music from that era (or any other) that I’ve managed to hear. It’s still some of the music I reach for most these days, having liked it since high school when I first overheard my older sibling playing Operator’s Manual in his room and then had to get some of their recordings myself. The early Buzzcocks should be lauded for their unstoppable rhythm section — John Maher is one of the grooviest rock drummers ever, and those catchy basslines are a joy to hear. But it’s Pete Shelley’s soaring vocals and the charging dual-guitar attack of him and Steve Diggle that seal the deal, making that spate of early recordings (as well as many beyond them) a treasure trove of hooks and riffs and enticing vibes worth returning to again and again. More could be said, but ultimately words fail, and one should just put the records on and lose herself in them. Shelley was musically active for several decades, in Buzzcocks as well as a solo artist and collaborator. He’s gone but has left behind quite a legacy and influence. R.I.P., Pete.

Recently I had the good fortune to see Esther Hoffenberg’s Bernadette Lafont, and God Created the Free Woman and I must say, it was tres fantastique! It should be noted that being a fan of Bernadette Lafont both during and after her lifetime, and having enjoyed many of the films she had roles in, I was predisposed to like this 65-minute documentary. But to be in the target market for a film hasn’t always meant I’ve taken a shine to it—in other words, there’s never been a guarantee that just because the subject matter is of interest a movie is handled well. However Hoffenberg did such a fine job weaving together so many different moments from the late French actor’s life and career that her film grabbed me from the start and by time it was over I was left with a sense of peace and was utterly charmed. As one of Lafont’s granddaughters said toward the end of the film, “She’s gone but for us she’s still here.” That’s how Hoffenberg’s documentary made me feel, without it ever coming across as hagiography.

Bernadette Lafont, and God Created the Free Woman traced the actor’s evolution from pin-up girl, to Nouvelle Vague (and post-Nouvelle Vague) model of feminist liberation, to mother and wife (as well as provider), to septuagenarian actor who found a late-period break-out hit as a drug dealing grandmother in the comedy Paulette. Along the way, the constellation of filmmakers she worked with was like a Who’s Who’s of French Cinema, featuring such luminaries as Jean Eustache, François Truffaut, Jacques Rivette, Claude Chabrol, Philippe Garrel, Anne-Marie Miéville, and on and on. An interesting moment for me was seeing Lafont passionately defend Eustache’s masterpiece The Mother and the Whore before an unsympathetic critic at Cannes who foolishly described it as a “non-film” (Mon dieu!). Other stand-outs were the interviews with Moshé Mizrahi and Christiane Rochefort talking about some of the finer anti-patriarchal aspects of Sophie’s Ways, a film I enjoyed just the other day.

Hoffenberg’s documentary featured many snippets of archived interviews with and movie clips and photographs of Lafont dating back to the fifties, as well as a more recent voice-over from Lafont that was occasionally tempered by a voice-over from Hoffenberg herself. Recent interviews with Lafont’s granddaughters and close friend and collaborator Bulle Ogier, among others, helped paint a more nuanced picture of Lafon’t life and career, which truth be told had its ups and downs. A pleasant surprise was the documentary’s transitional music, by Dario Rudy, which was first rate and very cool. Ultimately Bernadette Lafont, and God Created the Free Woman was a life affirming film about a figure on the cinematic landscape who forged a singular path. And like Bertrand Tavernier’s excellent My Journey Through French Cinema, it should be considered a must for those interested in francophone films and would likely inspire its viewers to seek out some of the more obscure titles covered within it.

The Breeders rocking out at the Ritz Ybor in Tampa Bay

Last night the classic Last Splash-era line-up of The Breeders played The Ritz Ybor in Tampa Bay, and it was one helluva show! The band were in fine form as they played material old and new in the midst of moody lighting and an alluring visual backdrop that didn’t stay still for long. I’m exhausted at the moment, so suffice it to say, if you have the chance to see The Breeders as they tour the U.S. and elsewhere on the heels of their cool new album All Nerve, run don’t walk to see them. I’m grateful they made a stop down here and the rest of the packed audience last night ate it up too.

Will Vinton

A quick shout out and “requiescat in pace” are due for animator Will Vinton, who passed away yesterday. Will Vinton’s Claymation Christmas Celebration was a staple of my childhood in the 1980s and I still make a point of watching it on DVD every year during the holidays. Like Lotte Reiniger’s The Adventures of Prince Achmed or the Brothers Quay’s Street of Crocodiles, it is a venerated slice of animation that has achieved “classic” status at this point, and for good reason. Even thirty years on, people take stock of how inviting and visually engrossing it is. Will Vinton was talented, and duly celebrated during his time, and even if you don’t think you know him, you probably do know him, as you’ve likely at the very least seen his work in commercials and in pop culture at large. He will be missed.

Urban Arts Berlin's Ballardian Soundscapes compilation

The German organization Urban Arts Berlin has released another one of its nifty compilations of music by artists from all around the world. This one is called Ballardian Soundscapes and as you would surmise it consists of music inspired by the work of the late novelist and A-level provocateur J.G. Ballard.

Am pleased to report that Leila M. & Tired of Triangles’ “The Drowned World” made the cut! You can stream and download this and other tracks via Bandcamp at:

This is a cool compilation. A lot of the tracks seem to embody a darker, dystopian, electronic-based sound that fits right in with new brutalism architecture and some of Ballard’s more unnerving storylines. A few of the tracks feel reminiscent of Zoviet France. One of the tracks, Russell Lowe’s “Depopulous Nirvana,” feels like a perfect mix between Sunn O))) and Oneohtrix Point Never. I look forward to listening to this more in the coming days while reading and whatnot.

Leila and I are honored to have been included.

The late Dutch cinematographer Robby Müller

Dutch cinematographer Robby Müller has passed away, at age 78. Müller was of international renown and among the most skilled in his trade. He was the kind of cameraman and technician who elevated every film he worked on, and whose compositions have been seen and adored by millions. Not all of the viewers who’ve seen his cinematography would know Müller by name, but many of them would no doubt recall, for example, the Southwestern American vistas and neon-lit roadside oases of Paris, Texas as if they had experienced them firsthand. Indeed, Muller’s cinematography could be so vivid in conjunction with the storylines of the films he worked on that it made audiences feel as if they were right there.

I was first impressed by Müller’s sharp camera work in my early twenties, when I rented a spate of VHS tapes of seventies Wim Wenders films from Video Visions in Milwaukee. Even though the format and film-to-video transfers didn’t do the films justice, the films themselves could still be appreciated as consummate works of art. Am talking here about The Goalie’s Anxiety at the Penalty Kick (which was recently restored but has yet to be reissued on DVD or blu-ray disc), and the loose “Road Trilogy” of Alice in the Cities, Wrong Move, and Kings of the Road (essential cinema that was restored prior to being reissued by Criterion in a super-cool boxset). If you haven’t seen this work, I implore you to give it a go, regardless of what you might have heard or might think of Wenders’s work in general. These films are worth seeing for Müller’s imagery alone. More than any other director of photography I can think of, Müller was adept at filming actors in cars with a freshness of perspective that could make the viewer feel like being in the passenger or driver’s seat, primed for adventures along the highway.

Müller also did fine cinematography on films by Jim Jarmusch (whose work I usually like), and he shot movies like Repo Man, Saint Jack, and Barfly, which aren’t quite as good but can be approached as interesting curiosity pieces. And of course that only scratches the surface (as a I often say in these short-form eulogies).

One Sunday evening in the Summer of 2017 I happened to wake up rather late. Checking Facebook I noticed a friend of a friend mention that Until the End of the World was going to be shown in the middle of the night on Turner Classic Movies. They were set to screen “the director’s cut.” Yes, the version of the film that clocked in at nearly five hours long. I had never seen it in any form, but had gathered it had its flaws. I didn’t have any obligations the following morning, so it seemed worth staying up and watching. “Why not?” I figured. The full version of Until the End of the World turned out to be frustratingly uneven as it progressed, showing a lack of focus as it began to feel more like an endurance test than a movie. However, it wasn’t without its charms and had some good scenes here and there, especially during its second half. One thing that eased the long sit and kept me from giving up on it, as the plot seemed to spin in different directions, was the cinematography by Robby Müller. Characteristic of his work, the film looked great. Very colorful and pristine, lending the proceedings an inviting tenor they could have easily lacked in less capable hands.

Still from Until the End of the World