Many Motown songs show mastery of that subject, as well as assertions of transcendent love, as in “You’re My Everything,” in which the singer’s high voice issuing dedication and praise may have presaged the work of the Isley Brothers and Earth, Wind and Fire; and certainly musicians such as Michael Jackson, Prince, Terence Trent D’Arby, Brian McKnight, and Maxwell have found much to emulate in this assured, expressive music.
Home, and the Difficulty of Making One: The Whole Love by Wilco, featuring Jeff Tweedy
The music of Wilco on The Whole Love is easy to listen to, not abrasive, not strange. “Sunloathe” is a ballad, with piano and guitar; and the mid-tempo “Dawn on Me” reminds one of 1970s rock; while “Black Moon” could hardly be simpler, with acoustic guitar and plain vocal declarations. It is all more reassuring than some might expect; and it is good and solid work, and a pleasure—work that deserves to be heard.
Music as Memory: David Lang’s This Was Written by Hand, performed by pianist Andrew Zolinsky
David Lang, the recipient of the Pulitzer Prize in 2008 for his work “The Little Match Girl Passion,” inspired by both Hans Christian Andersen and Bach, has created work for dance and film as well as concert performance; and Lang is joined for this album recording by the interpretive pianist Andrew Zolinsky, who has performed Lang’s work before and that of other composers, as well as appeared with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and the London Concerto Orchestra.
Building Sounds: Michael Gordon’s Timber, performed by Slagwerk Den Haag
Six percussionists participate in the music performance: Fedor Teunisse, the artistic leader of Slagwerk Den Haag, and Marcel Andriessen, Niels Meliefste, Pepe Garcia, Juan Martinez, and Frank Wienk. By turns, the sounds are of a pulsing rhythm, and a pecking sound that becomes lower then rises and becomes low again, and a rattling and rolling that is then ringing, a hammering that heralds, and finally something clocklike, with a quickened tempo that subsequently slows. It is fascinating.
A review of The Book of Symbols: Reflections on Archetypal Images by the Archive for Research in Archetypal Symbolism (ARAS)
Most essays take a vivid and telling image as their point of departure, but then range more widely. On the whole, the essays are provocative and richly suggestive, rather than exhaustive; and it is unlikely anyway, to my way of understanding, that the meanings and resonances inherent in a symbol can ever be fully enumerated. That is why they remain vital as symbols, able to intrigue, fascinate and transport.
A review of The Fate of Pryde by Mary Martin
Certainly the mystery that surrounds and motivates Jonathan Pryde and the poor ‘lost souls’ that inhabit his castle, drives the story rapidly towards its conclusion, but this is more than simply a story of suspense. The novel touches on some serious thematics such as the relationship between art and life, on both ethics and philosophical responsibility, and ultimately, on how we create meaning in our lives.
A review of The Confessions of Becky Sharp by David James
David James does a fabulous job of bringing Becky Sharp’s story to life. She is both absolutely detestable and endearing all in the same. He pulls you into her tumultuous and humorous past. This heartbreaking past also gives insight into what has led this woman into such a selfish and irresponsible lifestyle.
A review of Capablanca by Edward Winter
We follow his chess career from prodigy to young pretender to world champion; and even though the loss to Alekhine took the wind out of his sails for a bit, renewal and revitalisation followed soon after. He continued to show his calibre at Carlsbad 1929, Moscow 1936, Nottingham 1936 and elsewhere.
A review of The Honourable Schoolboy by John le Carre
Let me come clean and admit that I didn’t quite follow the plot; indeed, in places I found it quite perplexing. But I read on because I was held by le Carre’s world, precarious and peril-ridden. He writes at one point that ‘silence, not gunfire, was the natural element of the approaching enemy’ and he uses this element too.
A review of Prayers waiting for God by David Barnes
The blurb on the back says it all: “This is David Barnes’ first and last book.” That David ever came to be a poet is a kind of miracle in itself. He’s an unlikely candidate. A ward of the state, placed in institutions and physically and sexually abused – there was little likelihood that he would become a functioning adult, let alone a loving one who could have a happy relationship, a much-loved son a self-deprecating sense of humour – or a writing career.