The Illegal Eagles. Truro. 22nd November 2006

I love live music. It’s that breadbasket-as-the-bass drum, pounding in the chest thrill. Okay, they’re a bit loud, but it’s fun. For a moment there I came over a bit nostalgic, with the whole 70’s soft California rock scenario - their lead guitarist with long hair, a clipped beard, and wearing flared jeans. This is unfortunately accompanied by an unwelcome emotional response – wistful and, oh dear, a bit resentful. I actually heard the thought, ‘when anything felt possible.’ Teenagers do think this, and I suppose it’s true, if circumstances are favourable. At times like that, I feel like I’m in the Indiana Jones film where he seeks the Holy Grail, and the old knight says to the first guy, “You chose poorly.” It’s that simple. There’s still time to have some fun though, just not in a spring fresh body – and not with the wide eyes of innocence. Dear old Eagles, with their romantic ballads and coupledom songs, sweet. Great to hear Peaceful Easy Feeling, Take It to the Limit, One of Those Nights, Takin’ It Easy, Lyin’ Eyes, and of course Hotel California. Desperado makes my heart hurt.

The second half of the set is terrific with the audience singing along to the old favourites, and a fab selection of rock classics. When the band pause to talk us into a new number, some of the crowd yell out, “Get on with it, we wanna boogie!” - so they have to cut out the chit-chat and get back into the groove. I’m sitting directly behind the light and sound technicians, and the light show is quite a spectacle too, with the control board played like a piano, and the spotlights rotating and swooping around the auditorium. I was expecting sirens to wail. A great set, and The Illegal Eagles, now ten years old, send their audience home happy, so happy that a complete stranger pays for my car park ticket. Pay It Forward.

Comments

HAPPY-GO-LUCKY. Dir Mike Leigh. 2008

Simple, retarded asthmatic gasps and giggles her way through this nonsensical film from Mike Leigh. 30 year old Poppy’s arrested development is masked by her carer who provides meals and stability. This form of care in the community works well so that Poppy is able to extend her adolescence in this flat-sharing arrangement by climbing into bed with her carer and exhibiting teenage tactile behaviour. Her flatmate is tolerant, even when getting no answers as to where Poppy has been and whether or not she’s ok. To Poppy’s credit she holds down a job. Inconceivably a primary school teacher, she is left in a position of responsibility with young children for long periods without supervision. However, classroom activities are restricted to making masks out of brown paper bags in case anyone thought primary school teaching involved real work. Leigh raises the possibility of serious subject matter when a boy begins to bully others. Without parental involvement, a Socia...

ACCATONE! Dir Piers Paulo Pasolini. 1961

Accatone! (1961) is the first film by director Piers Paulo Pasolini and re-relased as part of a box set of his work. Accatone! features a pitiless, self-serving, manipulative young pimp living in the slums and rubble of Rome, whose lassitude is infectious. Images of his death recur throughout the film and he seems barely living. The exclamation mark in the title may be there to try and wake him up. Pasolini shot the film on the streets, using the people he found there rather than professional actors. The effect is a slow moving realism which casts the viewer as reluctant voyeur; it is impossible to gain any distance from the unrelenting sadism of hollow machismo. Seeing this film fifty years after it was made, the misogyny in this film is deeply disturbing; women are either Madonna, virgin or whore. Accatone says prostitution is ‘a mother’s situation’ which provides the mixed message that it’s selfless and necessary for survival, yet he and his friends view whores as trash; to...

Interior Life of an Estate Agent - part 23

Hot Bodies The heat is intense today. My car is blue with a black interior and the sun on the metal is fierce and punishing. Even with the window open there is no relief. The sunroof has to stay closed because the ferocity of the burning sun is beyond bearing. I’m showing a friendly, chatty elderly couple round a bungalow in suburban bungalow-land where there is no sound but the churning of some piece of workman’s equipment nearby. I stay with the plot all round the house, answering questions, being helpful, making suggestions, until we come to the front bedroom and I turn to admire the view. Across the road are two workmen on the flat roof of a garage. One of them is facing us, wearing a baseball cap and bent slightly forward. All I can see is his perfect flat stomach; so flat that, as he bends, there are neat creases in the brown skin, as neat as pencil lines. He has not an ounce of fat covering his slim, naked upper body and trickles of sweat make tracks through the dirt on th...

Just For Lookin' Thru

Search This Blog