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 Second Chances
Damon Gough, a.k.a. Badly Drawn Boy, had to walk away from a new album last year. Luckily, he found another one around the corner. By Mikael Wood
Damon Gough has had it good since 2000, when the one-man band won England’s prestigious Mercury Music Prize for his debut album as Badly Drawn Boy, The Hour of Bewilderbeast, a ramshackle tapestry of homemade pop that sounded like Burt Bacharach as produced by Beck. His two follow-ups have won him an increasingly devoted audience, and the soundtrack he wrote and recorded for 2002’s Hugh Grant vehicle About a Boy introduced him to Hollywood, as (potentially) lucrative a companion as a musician could hope to meet.
Yet when Gough began work on a new album last year with producer Stephen Street (a veteran of classic British pop records by Blur and the Smiths), he found that his good fortune had run out. “I’d just kind of lost focus and felt that it wasn’t really going the way I intended it,” Gough says of the Street sessions. “And I couldn’t find an easy answer as to how to turn the songs into something I liked. The only thing I could do was walk away from it, which was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
After your work with Stephen Street ended disappointingly, you wrote a whole new record, Born in the U.K., and began recording it with Nick Franglen of the English electropop act Lemon Jelly. Was it difficult to get motivated a second time? It wasn’t, really. I can’t explain why [the Street-produced material] didn’t happen or why it didn’t work out. The songs were sounding good but not great. I couldn’t fathom what to do next. And I felt tarnished by the experience of trying to get it right, so the last thing I wanted to do was go back to those songs. So I just kind of kicked myself and decided to go into the recording studio near where I live and just force myself to record something brand-new every day.
Did it work? Yeah, I ended up managing to get a new song in half-decent shape by the end of each day. I was waking up, coming up with an idea on the guitar, going in the studio, and recording it. I think because of the failure, because of something not working out, I was trying to prove a point — like, “I can do this in my sleep; I can write a song a day.” And that’s what I ended up doing.
Did you enjoy the feeling of working under the gun? I don’t know whether I’d say I enjoyed it. But there’s something to be said for having a disciplined approach. The problem with being an artist is the rock-and-roll ethic — you don’t really want to work hard. You already worked hard to get yourself where you are, and you don’t want to work hard anymore. You just want to be lazy. But because I was thinking I had to prove myself, it became fairly reckless. I had no focus; I was just recklessly recording new songs every day without any reasons for it and with no real direction.
Did Nick provide that direction? Well, by the time I got to Christmas, I had so many ideas to choose from that I didn’t know where to start. So in January, I just kind of started recording songs one by one with Nick and probably recorded far too many songs again. Eventually, we ended up finalizing the album with 12 main songs on it.
What was different about working with Nick? The main difference in the process was that I just went back to how I’ve always done things — putting down the bass and the drums and my guitar or piano, and then building up the instruments over the top of that. That’s basically how I’ve always made music; that’s the process I can understand. And that’s where things can get interesting: Stuff can happen without your realizing it, without your planning it. You can chance upon things just by overdubbing and improvising ideas on top of the template you’ve put down.
Your records have always suggested that you’re a creature of the studio. My background is in recording rather than in performing — not that I ever got good at being a sound engineer. But when I was 18, I worked in studios, and that’s all I wanted to be. It’s only by accident that I became the person in front of the camera rather than behind it.
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 Bee Gees
Bee Gees’ 1st, Horizontal, Idea
(Reprise)
Although their greatest commercial success would come 10 years later with the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, the Bee Gees’ early efforts remain one of the greatest, if overlooked, chapters in pop history. Finally, the group’s late-’60s catalog has gotten a proper overhaul: Each of their first three records has been remastered and packaged with a separate disc of nonalbum singles,
B-sides, demos, and other rarities, as well as insightful liner notes by music historian Andrew Sandoval. The group’s 1967 effort, Bee Gees’ 1st, offers a breezy, if not fully formed, musical vision that combines churning psych and baroque pop with the brothers’ stirring genetic harmonies. Standout tracks like the haunting elegy “New York Mining Disaster 1941” and the odd, religiously tinted “Every Christian Lion Hearted Man Will Show You” found the band blazing a unique stylistic trail among its peers. Released later that year, the follow-up Horizontal was a more confident affair, notably producing the global hit “Massachusetts,” while the same sessions also spawned the single-only smash “Words” (included among the bonus material here). By the time of 1968’s Idea, the band was beginning to suffer from internal strife that would cause Robin to split temporarily with his brothers the following year. But the conflicts did not affect the album, which is packed with memorable gems, including perhaps their finest works of the era in “I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You” and “I Started a Joke.” Collected together and put into proper historical context, these lavish double-discs offer a treat for diehards and an eye-opening experience for the uninitiated. — Bob Bozorgmehr
 Oasis
Stop the Clocks
(Columbia)
Even as recently as last year, Oasis leader Noel Gallagher was suggesting that the day the band released a best-of compilation would be the day they called it quits. You’ll have to chalk that up to Gallagher’s typical Mancunian bluster, as Stop the Clocks — Oasis’s new 18-track retrospective — certainly doesn’t feel like career capitulation. If Gallagher and company are giving up anything with this set, it’s the notion that the bulk of their LPs — aside from their first two career-defining efforts, Definitely Maybe and (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? — are actually worth owning. Clocks saves you the trouble and shelf space, cherry-picking the best tunes (“Go Let It Out,” “Songbird”) off clunker LPs like Standing on the Shoulders of Giants and Heathen Chemistry and featuring standouts from 2005’s relative return to form Don’t Believe the Truth (“Lyla,” “The Importance of Being Idle”). In addition to those tracks, we get the expected hits: still-piquant pop anthems like “Wonderwall” and “Champagne Supernova” as well as a handful of rarities, including a series of remarkably stellar B-sides like “Acquiesce” and “The Masterplan.” Hard-core fans might quibble over certain exclusions from the track list, but for most, this nearly note-perfect double-disc set will satisfy all their Oasis needs. — B.B.
 The Killers
Sam’s Town
(Island)
When the Killers burst forth from Las Vegas in 2004 with their megaselling debut album, Hot Fuss, their tales of longing and disillusionment (and a dead girlfriend) were highly apropos for a quartet hailing from a gambler’s paradise ripe with desperate dreams, quickie marriages, and showbiz glitz. Musically, though, the group sounded more like heirs to Duran Duran’s New Romantic throne. That combination spills over into Sam’s Town, but the band expands their sound in a darker and more dramatic way, with gritty guitars edging out Hot Fuss’s analog synths. The augmented sound lends Sam’s Town a slightly edgier rock feel while keeping the band’s penchant for pop catchiness. Opening with the rambunctious multitempo title track, the group crosses a wide musical landscape. Lead single “When You Were Young” and “Bling (Confessions of a King)” both channel U2’s larger-than-life sound with a new-wave twist. The fuzzed-out “For Reasons Unknown” has the odd distinction of sounding a bit like Robert Smith fronting a Flock of Seagulls; the rowdy “This River Is Wild” siphons ’80s-era Bruce Springsteen. And if there were any doubts that this band is really from Vegas, “Bones” delivers a hip, horn-fueled chorus worthy of Tom Jones. Front man Brandon Flowers has unnecessarily overhyped Sam’s Town as one of the best albums of the last 20 years, and the CD’s ambitious scope may leave some people’s heads spinning. But the Killers still manage to make heartache, disappointment, and emotional turmoil empowering. — Bryan Reesman
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Come On in, the Water’s Fine
Why television is replacing film as a creative promised land. By Ken Parish Perkins
I noticed a slight change in television content when Joss Whedon came on the scene and wrote some of the most marvelous lines for his characters on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. That the guy who wrote Alien: Resurrection and the fabulous Toy Story was able to turn a silly box-office flop into a TV drama about teenage isolation, make it a hit, and then add a spin-off (Angel) seemed to suggest that the small screen wasn’t just a hobby but also a desired destination.
This is worth a mention, since film has long been considered art while TV has been regarded as, among other things, a tube for boobs. No wonder serious actors aspired to films (the really serious ones did theater) and everyone else did TV. The medium was long considered the backup plan, the last resort, the place where filmmakers and stars lumbered to, hats shielding their faces as if they were in a perp walk, when box-office receipts weren’t kind and, all of a sudden, their calls weren’t being returned.
But these days, when the likes of Peter Berg, Brian Grazer, Ron Howard, Jerry Bruckheimer, Salma Hayek, John Wells, J.J. Abrams, Paul Haggis, Alan Ball, Aaron Sorkin, Whedon, and others have been or are responsible for shows like Arrested Development, Six Feet Under, Lost, CSI, The West Wing, Ugly Betty, and Cold Case, you figure they know something we don’t.
Here’s what they know: TV isn’t a vast wasteland as much as it’s a vast playground, a place where their visions are realized without having been thinned out or altogether shredded. Under corporate pressure to meet bottom lines, movies are mass productions, increasingly general and sanitized, while television, due to fragmentation, is becoming less so.
If you haven’t noticed, movies worth watching often don’t emerge until December, the only true month to see a first-run movie at the multiplex, unless you’re 16, and then it’s the summer blow-up-everything season. Even the once-reliable independent film market is producing what look more like big studio messes, partly because many formerly independent film companies are part of studio specialty divisions now and therefore must adhere to the same criteria of turning in higher profit margins, luring bigger names, and generally watering down the personalized touch that made this market unique in the first place.
There’s certainly an upside to not having one’s individual vision beaten to a pulp, or, as Aaron Sorkin (whose Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip on NBC is his third series, after Sports Night for ABC and The West Wing for NBC) puts it, not being pushed aside once the screenplay is delivered. Besides, since television moves so briskly — it’s a little like making 22 movies a year — it’s more informal and less self-conscious. And isn’t self-consciousness the enemy of creativity?
“Everyone looks at art differently if they have the freedom to create it,” says Ryan Murphy, whose Nip/Tuck, set in the world of plastic surgery, airs on FX. “You have your boundaries, but it’s a little like painting on a blank canvas.” Particularly this season, in which, hoping to duplicate the high rates of viewer loyalty of serialized dramas such as Lost and 24, network bosses seemingly have given the car keys to their kids and said, “Have fun with it.”
There is plenty of new evidence to support this claim. Heroes is about ordinary people with extraordinary powers. The Nine chronicles the anatomy of a bank robbery. Big Day centers on the craziness of one wedding day. Notes from the Underbelly is the journal of a couple’s decision to conceive. Dexter is about a forensic expert who moonlights as a serial killer. Friday Night Lights offers the same overlayered grit and honesty as its movie predecessor. Day Break is about a cop trying to clear himself of murder while living the same day over and over again. Then there are established series, like The Sopranos, Scrubs, Weeds, My Name Is Earl, The Office, Veronica Mars, and The Wire, which I’d stack up against anything currently at the multiplex.
“Movies seem to be scared, whereas television seems to be like a teenager feeling his or her oats,” says veteran film actor James Woods, who plays an egotistical prosecutor in the CBS legal drama Shark, produced by Grazer. “It’s more sophisticated, more dynamic, more gut-wrenching. I chose this job for no other reason than it was the best thing I’ve read in 10 years, period.”
Television programming still remains a kind of suicide mission — it’s a given that well over half the shows won’t be around next season. But that also means some will be, and there’s always hope that more will follow next season, and more the next, until the day arrives when even bad slasher films no longer command more prestige than a high-quality drama.
We can hope, at least.
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The Tomorrow Show: Tom Snyder’s Electric Kool-Aid Talk Show
(Shout! Factory)
This is the second DVD collection of Tom Snyder’s oddly engaging, always eclectic late-night talk fest, The Tomorrow Show. The first, released earlier this year, focused on punk rock, gathering together Snyder’s sometimes explosive encounters with musicians like Johnny Rotten, Iggy Pop, and Wendy O. Williams. Having earned raves for that set, Shout! Factory follows with another themed package, compiling Snyder’s tête-à-têtes with a handful of ’60s counterculture icons. The disc includes four programs taped between 1979 and 1981 that feature hippie guru Timothy Leary, a pairing of author and LSD exponent Ken Kesey with the Grateful Dead, and two episodes with New Journalism pioneer Tom Wolfe. Unlike the punk package, though, this disc is a bit short on material. The two Wolfe episodes, while interesting on their own, hardly fit, as Wolfe doesn’t discuss his pivotal study The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test but instead focuses on then-current projects like the space odyssey The Right Stuff. Still, for aging flower children and Deadheads, the balance of the DVD is a genuine treat. Snyder, who always seems woefully unhip here — he occasionally chides and chastises his guests for their reckless drug use — somehow draws the best out of both the spacey Leary and the clever Kesey, while his rapport with the Dead feels oddly affectionate. It’s another worthwhile stop on Snyder’s long, strange broadcasting trip. — B.B.
The Premiere Frank Capra Collection
(Sony Pictures Home Entertainment)
As one of America’s most famous and acclaimed filmmakers, Frank Capra contributed many classics to cinema history, including the immortal It’s a Wonderful Life. Considered to be a sentimentalist, populist, and idealist, Capra was concerned with standing up for the little guy, and many of his films’ protagonists challenged class distinctions or governmental or business policies while upholding true American ideals.
The five films contained herein come from the Depression era and strongly showcase those themes. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington finds an unlikely Senate appointee (James Stewart) taking on corrupt colleagues. The poet protagonist (Gary Cooper) of Mr. Deeds Goes to Town chooses to give away a $20 million inheritance to the poor. Famed screwball comedy It Happened One Night teams a brash reporter and an heiress, while You Can’t Take It With You links a couple with quite disparate family backgrounds. The only entry here that didn’t win any Oscars, the lesser-known American Madness, from 1932, is a striking film about a bank whose owner (Walter Huston) refuses to sell out to a larger institution. But a robbery and innuendo about his losses inspire a run on his bank that tests his fortitude.
The extras are sweet too. This six-disc set includes the full-length documentary Frank Capra’s American Dream, which is hosted by Ron Howard. It also comes with a 96-page, full-color Movie Scrapbook, featuring stills from the films included. Nicely packaged and nicely priced, this is certainly a great introduction to one of America’s most beloved directors. — B.R.
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Why Christopher Reeve Still Matters: Superman on DVD
By Bryan Reesman
When I reminisce about my film-school days at NYU, I never forget Christopher Reeve coming in to screen his then-latest film, 1987’s Street Smart, which is about a news reporter who fabricates a story that lands him in hot water. What struck me more than the gritty movie and Reeve’s intelligent discussion afterward about trying to shed his superhero image was seeing him pass me on the street after he left the building. He actually seemed a bit lonely as he ambled down Broadway that night, the man who played the iconic Superman in four movies. Then again, despite being a friend to the world, wasn’t the Man of Steel really alone? My brief real-life revelation underscored what made Reeve so great in the part: He was capable of being not only strong and brave but vulnerable as well. He was not only Superman but also Everyman.
Following his unfortunate equestrian accident in 1995, Reeve became a new sort of superhero, battling paralysis and showing that there is hope of a cure for spinal-cord injuries. In many ways, he became more of a role model in real life than he was on the screen, although his mission was certainly an extension of his art. When I interviewed him a year prior to his death, he embodied the admirable qualities of his on-screen alter ego: intelligence, thoughtfulness, and compassion, with a strong sense of optimism about the future.
With the DVD reissue of all of Reeve’s Superman work, a new generation can discover the magic of these movies and of the man himself. I finally watched the original movie again after a number of years, and while there are some dated elements (think clothing, humor, and a cheesy voice-over sequence), it still shines because of the amazing special-effects work, talented cast, and Reeve’s genuinely moving and humorous performance. He cleverly played Clark Kent as a clumsy, awkward reporter to contrast his superpower secret identity, who tackled the likes of criminal mastermind Lex Luthor and his father’s old nemeses from the planet Krypton. There was a certain naivete to Reeve’s portrayal, and the way he displayed his affection for roving reporter Lois Lane was, and still is, genuinely charming and endearing.
That magic is recaptured in the new Superman Returns, an exciting and respectful homage to the Reeve movies, directed by X-Men guru Bryan Singer. Even though no one will ever be a match for Reeve, Brandon Routh succeeds at channeling his famous predecessor while bringing his own personality to the role. The film, which is essentially a Superman II sequel that disregards its less-than-super successors, finds Superman once again taking on the psychopathic Lex Luthor, who has stolen crystals from the Fortress of Solitude to create his own continent (you’ll just have to watch it to see what I mean). As with its predecessors, the film’s fantastic imagery is balanced by very human performances. It’s funny: I never read Superman comics much as a kid, but the movies really do it for me. Perhaps it is because Superman seems more real, genuine, and nuanced on the silver screen, when handled the right way.
I consider myself to be pretty cynical about our tumultuous, semiapocalyptic modern world, but there’s something heartening about watching movies that not only take you back to your childhood but also allow you to look to the future with hope and positive feelings. The Superman movies make you believe not only that a man can fly, move mountains, and defend the planet single-handedly but also that one person’s everyday actions can profoundly impact all of us and inspire us to be better people as a whole. We could use a little more of that magic these days.
WHY THE DVDS MATTER
While all the Superman movies have been released on disc before, the new batch includes both the original and the director’s cut of Superman (only the latter was on DVD previously), with new bonus material; the original and the never-before-seen director’s cut of Superman II, which includes a plethora of unseen footage and offers Richard Donner’s original vision before he left the project and was replaced by Richard Lester; and deluxe editions of Superman III and Superman IV: The Quest for Peace, with new bonus material. A few fans have complained that the ABC extended television version of Superman has even more scenes, but those do appear as supplemental material on DVD. There is allegedly a much longer subplot excised from Superman IV, but we do get restored scenes as bonus material.
The four movies are part of the Christopher Reeve Superman Collection boxed set, which streets the same day as Superman Returns. The highly sought-after Superman II: The Richard Donner Cut, however, will be available separately. Allegedly only about a third of the original Donner material made it into the sequel before Lester came in and reshot material for what became a popular sequel, which means we’re going to be getting a whole new movie that could surpass the original version. For Superman fans, it will certainly be a grand revelation. — B.R.
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