My father refuses to watch the 1972 film Deliverance - he's seen it once and for him, that was more than enough. It's the story of four businessmen whose canoeing trip down the Cahulawassee River quickly turns into a nightmare. Assaulted by some frightening locals and pitted against the hazards of the river, they find themselves in a rather nasty fight for their lives.
Now, while Jeremy Barnes and Heather Trost haven't exactly spent the last couple of years hanging out in Eastern Europe with inbred, psychotic hillbillies, they have embarked on a daunting musical journey that not many would stomach. Their goal of learning the nuances of a tricky musical language, in a region off the map for mainstream America could easily have led them down a blind alley. So... would they, as the movie's tag line suggests, have been better off staying at home and playing golf?
Well, the short answer is no, because A Hawk and A Hacksaw have made their best, most confident record to date. It's a thrilling, mostly instrumental ride influenced by the Romanian diva Romica Puceanu, the Balkan brass of collaborators Fanfare Ciocărlia, and the breathless music of dark, smoky Budapest dance houses. There are plaintive violin-led pieces, which wouldn't be out of place accompanying a café scene in a Béla Tarr film, and scratchy field recordings - the first half of 'Raggle Taggle' sounds like a beautiful Romanian radio broadcast from 70 years ago. The sheer depth of this record means that Délivrance avoids one of the pitfalls of some Balkan albums, such as those from Ciocărlia - namely that the buoyant music becomes slightly repetitive.
Alongside the British bouzouki player Chris Hladowski, AHAAH have enlisted some key performers from Budapest's folk music circuit. A standout contribution comes from cimbalom virtuoso Kálman Bálogh, whose performance on 'Kertész' is blistering - the notes zip by at an astonishing speed. Other collaborators include Béla Ágoston, of quirky Hungarian hip-hop band Zuboly, and their close friend, trumpeter and violinist Ferenc Kovács.
I once saw Kovács play with Barnes and Trost on a makeshift stage, to twenty people, in the small Hungarian village of Szentendre. It was a scene that summed AHAAH's fearless, unique journey up perfectly. Although both violinists were undeniably virtuosic, the contrast in their style was marked, and picked up on by a handful of bemused audience members. Kovács' performance was freewheeling, that of a man who had grown up steeped in these musical traditions, while Trost handled the fiendishly difficult music with a look of fierce concentration.
Délivrance is no Gogol Bordello Balkan pastiche, nor does it deserve to get lumped into the category of 'world music'. Rather, it's a remarkable fusion, the sound of a band living and breathing a musical culture far removed from their own. According to them, their music is borderless, and the making of it is similar to 'climbing a mountain'. If this excellent album is anything to go by, I sincerely hope that A Hawk and a Hacksaw are halfway up the cliff face, some way off reaching their musical peak.
Andy T, former writer for thehub is currently working for UK-based music website thelineofbestfit. Read more here.
O Júlia , Júlia ! wherefore art thou Júlia ?
A play with two Juliets, one Hungarian and one English: you might well ask 'wherefore'. The wherefore, according to the blurb, at least, is to conjure up "Shakespeare's most beautiful ghost", and for a mixed nationality audience at that. I won't say I was skeptical but I wondered how it would work. With no one but Juliet doubled up, would it not be something like a one-sided telephone call with simultaneous interpretation?
A minimal set and costumes reflected a now familiar approach to Shakespeare, and as the audience entered, Juliet was already romping with herself in the middle of a featureless stage. I was quickly reassured that the Juliets would not be an exact duplicate of each other: some lines and movements were mirrored, others weren't. When one Juliet spoke, the other became a silent Romeo; a setting; a thought at the back of Juliet's mind.
While I'm sure there was a definite direction to the script, seeing Romeo & Juliet performed a few years ago was not sufficient for me to follow the story as such. Shakespeare-lovers or anyone who's actually read the thing recently would therefore have a much different experience. Add to that, the fact that some of the audience would understand the Hungarian, some the English, and others both or neither, and we suddenly have eight different plays on show. (Anyone who is unfamiliar with Romeo & Juliet and understands neither language might be in for a rough ride.)
In the absence of a straightforward narrative, it was the performances that took on the great burden of keeping me interested, and both Juliets were exceptional. That they were not alike was crucial: one, physical, sexual and occasionally animalistic (she growled at me as soon as I sat down) and the other slight and delicate. If you only understood the language of one, the other took on a mysterious presence but at the fore nonetheless. To say that they deconstructed Juliet would be too clinical but they certainly delved around in her psyche.
The Hungarian Juliet, Ubrankovics Júlia, is billed as an award-winning actress (she's even got a profile on IMDB!!) and indeed, it was clear that she was no amateur. It was surprising then that Sophie Thompson, The English Juliet, billed as "from London" went beyond the call of duty, soundtracking the whole thing by singing ghostly medieval melodies that seamlessly wove in and out of the script. Even if you have no theatrical bone in your body, you couldn't fail to be impressed by her undertaking.
With such chemistry, it was a surprise that our post-performance chat with the cast, and director, Engi-Nagy Natália, felt a little strained. Little did we know that Júlia had just announced that she wouldn't be taking part in any further shows. (With an audience that barely numbered twenty, you can understand why.) With two further shows scheduled for late May, and performances at the Camden Fringe Festival lined up, Natália has been quick to recruit news reporter, Kucsera Olga!
To see how she handles the switch to the stage, head to Sirály on Tuesday 26th or Wednesday 27th May. That gives me two weeks to brush up on my Shakespeare before finding out whether Olga can preserve the crucial balance and match the intensity of Júlia's performance. Who knows, she may even growl at me too.
Keep up to date with developments by following Natália's performance diary blog here.
Andy Sz.
A minimal set and costumes reflected a now familiar approach to Shakespeare, and as the audience entered, Juliet was already romping with herself in the middle of a featureless stage. I was quickly reassured that the Juliets would not be an exact duplicate of each other: some lines and movements were mirrored, others weren't. When one Juliet spoke, the other became a silent Romeo; a setting; a thought at the back of Juliet's mind.
While I'm sure there was a definite direction to the script, seeing Romeo & Juliet performed a few years ago was not sufficient for me to follow the story as such. Shakespeare-lovers or anyone who's actually read the thing recently would therefore have a much different experience. Add to that, the fact that some of the audience would understand the Hungarian, some the English, and others both or neither, and we suddenly have eight different plays on show. (Anyone who is unfamiliar with Romeo & Juliet and understands neither language might be in for a rough ride.)
In the absence of a straightforward narrative, it was the performances that took on the great burden of keeping me interested, and both Juliets were exceptional. That they were not alike was crucial: one, physical, sexual and occasionally animalistic (she growled at me as soon as I sat down) and the other slight and delicate. If you only understood the language of one, the other took on a mysterious presence but at the fore nonetheless. To say that they deconstructed Juliet would be too clinical but they certainly delved around in her psyche.The Hungarian Juliet, Ubrankovics Júlia, is billed as an award-winning actress (she's even got a profile on IMDB!!) and indeed, it was clear that she was no amateur. It was surprising then that Sophie Thompson, The English Juliet, billed as "from London" went beyond the call of duty, soundtracking the whole thing by singing ghostly medieval melodies that seamlessly wove in and out of the script. Even if you have no theatrical bone in your body, you couldn't fail to be impressed by her undertaking.
With such chemistry, it was a surprise that our post-performance chat with the cast, and director, Engi-Nagy Natália, felt a little strained. Little did we know that Júlia had just announced that she wouldn't be taking part in any further shows. (With an audience that barely numbered twenty, you can understand why.) With two further shows scheduled for late May, and performances at the Camden Fringe Festival lined up, Natália has been quick to recruit news reporter, Kucsera Olga!
To see how she handles the switch to the stage, head to Sirály on Tuesday 26th or Wednesday 27th May. That gives me two weeks to brush up on my Shakespeare before finding out whether Olga can preserve the crucial balance and match the intensity of Júlia's performance. Who knows, she may even growl at me too.
Keep up to date with developments by following Natália's performance diary blog here.
Andy Sz.
Ludwig Museum, until 5th July
Tues.-Sun. 10:00-20:00, 800 ft
Komor Marcell u. 1 [map]Pest, IX, Boraros tér (T 4,6), 8 min
Hinging your career on the stardom of others starts with a gut feeling and some incredible strokes of good luck. Such was the case with renowned photographer, Anton Corbijn from the beginning.
Jacob P.
Rewind 30 years from present and you’ll find a shy, young man in his early twenties making a snap decision to move from his native Netherlands to London. His singular motivation was the music of a band that would posthumously, and, upon the suicide of the front man, be known ‘round the world. That band: Joy Division. Corbijn, barely able to speak English, photographed them just two weeks after he arrived in London in 1979 (the photo appears as a central figure of the show), and that’s where things really began.
Fast forward almost thirty years and that same photographer is making his first feature-length film, Control, a biopic about the tragic life of Ian Curtis, the troubled troubadour of that little band he photographed in a London Tube station.
With such clear "bookends," it's a fine time for a massive career-spanning retrospective, simply titled, “Work.”
Corbijn has photographed countless integral underground and mainstream musicians, made some of the most recognizable music videos of all time – Nirvana’s “Heart-Shaped Box” being one – and reduced some of the world’s biggest film stars to meager-looking mortals. (One exception is his portrait of physicist, Stephen Hawking, who he makes look like a rock star.) Dylan, Ginsberg, Cash, U2, Kraftwerk, Waits, De Niro, Eastwood...his list of subjects goes on in impressive fashion.
“Composition is easy,” Corbijn said, at a recent free screening of Control at A38, part of the "Holland Kultfeszt." He says he places the importance on the person behind the camera, an emphasis easy to make if you've got a portfolio like Corbijn's.
Regardless, you'd find it hard to argue the fact that his work is strung together in a manner that is distinctly his. The graininess that comes from a 35mm negative being blown up beyond the natural limit, and the blurred subjects, rendered imperfect and almost featureless, are both signatures of his early work in black and white .
Later in his career his prints shrink down and sharpen, yet there is no connection lost between photographer and subject. It’s obvious that Corbijn somehow gets these celebrated people to open up. He forces them into a relationship with the camera; either that or he coaxes it out of them. Judging from Corbijn’s modest demeanor and the intimacy reflected in his photographs, the latter is probably true.
His numerous photos of Depeche Mode are a case in point. An entire room is devoted to them, in honor of the role he's played in their visual aesthetic that's always been akin to their music.
In recent years, Corbin has turned the camera on himself, or rather versions of himself dressed as other people. In the series “a. somebody” he employs a style of self-portrait that evokes the work of Cindy Sherman. Here, Corbijn imitates musicians who died in full glare of the media, some he worked with (i.e. Ian Curtis, Kurt Cobain) and some he never had the chance to (i.e. John Lennon).
Walking through the multitude of photographs that make up Corbijn’s life's work, one can truly grasp the weight of these images. While they can be visually stunning, both for the saturation and the simple compositions, they also cut through the gloss to show a more intimate, human side of those that so often placed atop pedestals.
Yes, the chance to photograph four skinny, shivering musicians from Manchester served as the launch pad for Corbijn, but, like his subjects, it's taken more than luck to keep him amongst the stars. If you’re a fan of photography, music, or stardom, this exhibition shouldn’t go unseen.
Anton Corbjin Antwon Corbin Antone Corbwin
Fast forward almost thirty years and that same photographer is making his first feature-length film, Control, a biopic about the tragic life of Ian Curtis, the troubled troubadour of that little band he photographed in a London Tube station.With such clear "bookends," it's a fine time for a massive career-spanning retrospective, simply titled, “Work.”
Corbijn has photographed countless integral underground and mainstream musicians, made some of the most recognizable music videos of all time – Nirvana’s “Heart-Shaped Box” being one – and reduced some of the world’s biggest film stars to meager-looking mortals. (One exception is his portrait of physicist, Stephen Hawking, who he makes look like a rock star.) Dylan, Ginsberg, Cash, U2, Kraftwerk, Waits, De Niro, Eastwood...his list of subjects goes on in impressive fashion.
“Composition is easy,” Corbijn said, at a recent free screening of Control at A38, part of the "Holland Kultfeszt." He says he places the importance on the person behind the camera, an emphasis easy to make if you've got a portfolio like Corbijn's.
Regardless, you'd find it hard to argue the fact that his work is strung together in a manner that is distinctly his. The graininess that comes from a 35mm negative being blown up beyond the natural limit, and the blurred subjects, rendered imperfect and almost featureless, are both signatures of his early work in black and white .
Later in his career his prints shrink down and sharpen, yet there is no connection lost between photographer and subject. It’s obvious that Corbijn somehow gets these celebrated people to open up. He forces them into a relationship with the camera; either that or he coaxes it out of them. Judging from Corbijn’s modest demeanor and the intimacy reflected in his photographs, the latter is probably true.His numerous photos of Depeche Mode are a case in point. An entire room is devoted to them, in honor of the role he's played in their visual aesthetic that's always been akin to their music.
In recent years, Corbin has turned the camera on himself, or rather versions of himself dressed as other people. In the series “a. somebody” he employs a style of self-portrait that evokes the work of Cindy Sherman. Here, Corbijn imitates musicians who died in full glare of the media, some he worked with (i.e. Ian Curtis, Kurt Cobain) and some he never had the chance to (i.e. John Lennon).Walking through the multitude of photographs that make up Corbijn’s life's work, one can truly grasp the weight of these images. While they can be visually stunning, both for the saturation and the simple compositions, they also cut through the gloss to show a more intimate, human side of those that so often placed atop pedestals.
Yes, the chance to photograph four skinny, shivering musicians from Manchester served as the launch pad for Corbijn, but, like his subjects, it's taken more than luck to keep him amongst the stars. If you’re a fan of photography, music, or stardom, this exhibition shouldn’t go unseen.
Anton Corbjin Antwon Corbin Antone Corbwin
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