Old Skool Man
It was a week of old school.
Every day last week I somehow found myself seeing, doing, watching or being in something that was old school.
On Monday night a bunch of us went out for dinner and drinks at the city’s newest cool hangout on the river. Someone is making lots of money because for a Monday night the place was busy as and the large number of overseas accents and languages was very noticeable. The old school part, other than actually physically being with people and communicating face to face, was that this entertainment precinct is side by side with one of the oldest schools in the state.
Founded in 1861, as we walked down from the convenient street park we had dobbed [how old school is that? no public transportation, no Uber for us] you could hear yells and whistles from the current students playing on its sports courts. The school is set on a ridge above the river which is not surprising as I’ve never seen a Catholic owned building that is not on prime real estate whatever town I am in. I guess it always pays to be there in the beginning.
Anyway on the other side of the school is the older entertainment precinct of the city, an area now full of upmarket bars, restaurants and night clubs but in previous decades was a vibrant, seedy pocket of illegal gambling, prostitution and other old school crimes best undertaken by large men with a penchant for violence. The girl’s school has a very high stone wall on that side of the ridge and I can’t help but think it was modelled on a castle’s defences. The stories it could tell.
On Wednesday night I checked out some old school horror. Old school horror movies didn’t have tonnes of blood and guts, masked psychopaths, zombies or mutant beasts. Instead there was a lot more slow build up, dark corners, storms, thick forests and the Devil, oh yeah lots of stuff about the devil. There is nothing more old school horror like lots of old English talk about good and evil, insanity and possession. Anyway if this is your bag do check out The Witch now available for free via your set top box.
Carried by a fantastic mood, great cinematography and two excellent performances by Anya Taylor-Joy and a black goat it is a fine piece of work by first time director David Eggars whose latest film The Lighthouse is also a bit old school and in cinemas now. An extra bonus is that the script is based on records from the 17th century puritan era so you know the prayers and the curses are old school and legit.
I have two mates who are into vinyl. I am going to call them Bill and Ben and of course I am talking record vinyl, not anything kinky like a tight fisted fetish for fake leather. I have said before that I am not part of the vinyl record and turntable scene. All the quicker, cheaper, customisable ways to listen to music make far more sense to me that getting up every twenty minutes to flip a record over but it takes all kinds.
On Thursday night in the presence of Bill and Ben I finally got or maybe understood again the appeal of vinyl. Bill frequently visits Japan and he has been spending considerable amounts of money on second hand, reissued or Japanese version vinyl records. Now while Bill and Ben have diverse musical tastes they really do both love Jazz.
Now if the Lord of the Rings was somehow about music, then dwarves would be represented by metal, hobbits would be country, Ents would be the blues, wizards would be classical and the Elves would be jazz.
Complex, flashy and aloof, full of tragedies and feuds, arrogant, joyful but more often melancholic, there are aspects of jazz I like, especially when it embraces melody and lyrics. So while I can see why it inspires obsession in some I have to say I don’t love it. Half the time when I am listening to it I am expecting a waiter to appear to take my meal order.
Anyhow Bill kept bringing out his new purchases and he and Ben started carrying on like schoolgirls in the presence of whatever heartthrob is the Justin Bieber of this time. The point of vinyl is that it is a totally sensory experience. There is something to hold, pretty covers to look at, liner notes to read, vinyl and print ink to smell and of course music to hear. Now I know I have been told that vinyl sounds better but having given up a turntable sometime last century I have gone for convenience using Spotify etc. Plus now days I never listen to whole releases from an artist, I prefer playlists or shuffle.
But in the presence of two enthusiasts taking new vinyl or at least quality controlled vinyl out the sleeves, oohing and ahhing, playing certain tracks on a quality sound system and embracing the ceremony I remembered what I had forgotten from the vinyl era years ago. This was how you fell in love with an artist; how you knew they were talking to you.
We played some Coltrane, and some other jazz dudes with cool names [they all have cool names like Cannonball, Chet and Dexter] and then some songs from the 1975 Rolling Stones Black and Blue album which is basically The Rolling Stones adding reggae and funk to the mix since primo guitarist Mick Taylor had moved on. But there is some damn solid tracks and the cover has some lush photography and of the time art direction.
And you know what? The sound was better; it was warmer, more natural, it was old school.
On Saturday morning I watched Rage, something millions of us have done since 1987. Now when I say morning, I don’t mean 3.30am Rage consumed with a kebab, Panadol and water after a big night kind of morning. I mean 7.00am in the morning after being woken by the kids next door noisily fighting over building blocks. I can’t say that I knew the guest host on the Rage couch or any of the songs that came on for the hour or so I watched it but a couple of the tunes were ok.
What really caught my eye of course is the endless invention in music videos and how some truly stunning images can be achieved regardless of budget. Also how the obviously cheaper clips were often the best. Visually Rage has always been the most consistently exciting thing on TV.
Now days with so many different channels and ways to start and build a career as a performer it surprised me, when I sat down and thought about it, that Rage is still motoring along, but I guess you have to fill those ABC TV hours with something. Plus as a comedown after a night on the town I’m thinking it still has no peer.
Long after MTV and similar have either faded from view, or along with live broadcasts of greyhound racing from small towns in New Zealand’s south island, become background fodder to sit in a bar and drink to, Rage rocks on.
Listening for the above.
Brisbane (Security City) – The Saints
Memory Hotel – the Rolling Stones.
A Love Supreme - John Coltrane
Wild One – Iggy Pop
Spin The Black Circle – Pearl Jam
Burn the Witch – Radiohead
Witchy Woman – The Eagles
and if you must - Rhiannon – Fleetwood Mac
