Lindsey Buckingham’s 1981 solo album Law and Order, was mostly met with disinterested shrugs. However he did score a Top Ten hit with "Trouble"—it peaked at #9—and deservedly so. For my money there are any number of equally terrific pop songs to be found on the record including “I’ll Tell You Now” and the also awesome "It Was I".
When first we faced, and touching showed How well we knew the early moves, Behind the moonlight and the frost, The excitement and the gratitude, There stood how much our meeting owed To other meetings, other loves.
The decades of a different life That opened past your inch-close eyes Belonged to others, lavished, lost; Nor could I hold you hard enough To call my years of hunger-strife Back for your mouth to colonise.
Admitted: and the pain is real. But when did love not try to change The world back to itself—no cost, No past, no people else at all— Only what meeting made us feel, So new, and gentle-sharp, and strange?
“In an old house in Paris, that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines. In two straight lines they broke their bread, and brushed their teeth, and went to bed. They smiled at the good, and frowned at the bad, and sometimes they were very sad.”
"HOW A GREAT BOXING NOVEL GOT THE MOVIE IT DESERVED"
Leonard Gardner’s ‘Fat City’ was his first and only novel, to describe it as a book about boxing would do it a disservice. It is a book about desperate, vulnerable, struggling human beings, some of who happen to box, because while the odds of success are long and unlikely it’s their last best hope.
Adapted beautifully to the screen by Gardner and John Huston—as described in this piece over at The Stacks. The film stars Stacy Keach, who’s performance is as impressive as any given by Gene Hackman or Dustin Hoffman in the 1970’s and a young Jeff Bridges—of ‘Last Picture’ Show vintage. It’s the rare instance in which an adaptation of a great novel—revered by writers far and wide, many of whom like Denis Johnson can recite every line—is an equally great film, every bit as moving and resonant
A Reference Of Female-Fronted Punk Rock: 1977-1989
My good friend Marc alerted me to this enormous homemade compilation, it spans twelve discs, many continents, and ranges from the iconic to the obscure. You can download the entire thing courtesy of the France based blog, Kängnäve.
A series of intimate closeups taken in and around Chicago during the early 80’s using a Polaroid camera. Barbara Crane’s amazing “Private Views” captures small details that suggest something much larger. See them all here.
The Brothers scored a minor hit with this 1968 Boo Records release. They also served as songwriting team, most notably for Ruby Andrews, penning most of the tracks she cut for the Chicago based Zodiac Records. Including “You Made A Believer (Out of Me), sampled by Q-Tip on “Won’t Trade”in 2008.
"The Fire Last Time: LIFE in Watts, 1966" - by Bill Ray
“The August 1965 Watts Riots (or Watts Rebellion, depending on one’s perspective and politics), were among the bloodiest, costliest and — in the five decades since they erupted — most analyzed uprisings of the notoriously unsettled mid-1960s. Ostensibly sparked by an aggressive traffic stop of a black motorist by white cops — but, in fact, the combustive result of decades of institutional racism and profound neglect on the part of the city’s power brokers — the six-day upheaval resulted in 34 deaths, more than 3,400 arrests and tens of millions of dollars in property damage (back when a million bucks still meant something). A year after the flames were put out and the smoke cleared from the southern California sky, LIFE revisited the scene of the devastation for a “special section” in its July 15, 1966, issue that the magazine called “Watts: Still Seething.” A good part of that special section featured a series of remarkable color photos made by Bill Ray on the streets of Watts: pictures of stylish, even dapper, young men making and hurling Molotov cocktails; of children at play in back yards and in rubble-strewn lots; of wary police and warier residents; of a community struggling to save itself from drugs, gangs, guns, idleness and decades of despair.”
Miloš Forman’s debut, generally credited with launching the Czech New Wave, is comprised of two short films, Audition and If There Were No Music. Both interweave footage of performance—brass band rehearsal and talent shows auditions—with a loose narrative. Like his work later in the decade both are playful, heartbreaking, and very funny as they chronicle youthful rebellion and the desire to escape the dreariness of every day life.