But theirlegend persisted. In 1982, they had recorded Pirates Choice, released bythe World Circuit label in Europe in 1989 after the band had broken up,reissued again worldwide with bonus material in 2001, renewing interest in thegroup. Between this interest and encouragement from none other than YoussouN’Dour, the band decided to reform, getting Attisso to put his law practice onhold and pick up his guitar for the first time in over a decade and join themin the studio with N’Dour and label owner Nick Gold producing. The result was Specialistin All Styles, which found the group revisiting some of their own classicsalong with new material for an album that was as good as anything in theirlengthy discography – better even, perhaps, because they were better musiciansand the production was crystalline. It’s a great album that’s unfortunatelycurrently out of print, like much of their earlier material. The reunion albumand tours were such a rousing success that the group got back into the studioagain a few years later to make Made in Dakar, which proved to be yetanother autumnal triumph from the group, featuring the same 11 main playersfrom the classic lineup who’d recorded the previous album. Orchestra Baobab again went on hiatus after this record,released in Europe in 2007 and in the States the next year.
But now, ten yearslater, they’ve returned with a new album, Tributeto Ndiouga Dieng, who passed away last year. Issa Cissoko, Rudy Gomis,Balla Sidibe, and bassist Charlie Ndiaye (whose lithe, powerful, driving linesI neglected to mention above), have all returned for an album that’s more anacoustic affair, centered often around Abdoulaye Cissoko’s (no relation toIssa) kora playing. It’s beautiful, often exciting, but I’d be lying if Ididn’t say that for me the spark of Attisso’s leads were not missed.
Definitelyworth hearing, especially if your tastes run toward the mellower than mine do,but for me Made In Dakar and Specialist in All Styles remain theband’s great 21 st century albums – so far. A film by Yasujirō Ozu is not likea film by any other filmmaker. He has one of the most unique and easilyidentifiable stylistic signatures of any international director, noted for hisunmoving camera, low angle shots simulating the view from a Japanese tatamimat, actors facing directly into the camera in dialogue, ellipses of plotleaving out seemingly important details, and visually intricate compositions.He’s been referred to as “the most Japanese director” of all, but in hisspecificity the universal can be found.
He worked subtle variations on ahandful of themes that interested him for his entire career (and in that is notunlike any major director spinning variations on their ideas in film after film):familial conflicts (usually between generations), the institution of arrangedmarriages, encroaching Westernization of Japan in his post-war films, financialwoes of the middle class families that populate most of his films, and more.His films usually have many comic moments, but there’s almost always anundercurrent of melancholy to them as well. Everythingsaid above could apply to a few dozen of Ozu’s films, but they all apply infull force for what proved to be the final film of his life, An Autumn Afternoon. It’s a seeminglysimple story of a widower, Shūhei Hirayama (played by Ozu regular Chishū Ryū),who lives with his son Kazuo and daughter Michiko, with his older son moved outand married, frequently squabbling with his wife about borrowing money to tryto lend him the appearance of prosperity at work. Hirayama is chided repeatedlyby his friends about arranging a marriage for his daughter before she becomes aspinster. Neither Hirayama nor his daughter have given much thought to thematter, perfectly content to live as they have been doing, but once he and hisdrinking buddies run into an old teacher of theirs, Sakuma (nicknamed “TheGourd”), and arrange an evening’s tribute to him, he begins to think more aboutit. There are many comic scenes of Hirayama and his friends drinking; old menreminiscing about war, women, school, old friends and so forth, but thingsbegin to be tinged with a sadder tone when their tribute to The Gourd ends withthe teacher too drunk and needing to be taken home where they see what’s becomeof his life.
The Gourd’sdaughter has remained unmarried in circumstances very similar to what Hirayamahas experienced, he’s now running a low-rent noodle shop, and his daughtercomplains that “he’s always doing this” when they bring him home drunk. Overthe course of several episodes in the film, The Gourd blames his ownselfishness for ruining her chances at a successful marriage, having kept herclose to home because he doesn’t want to suffer the loss of another familymember. The Gourd’s plight resonates with Hirayama, and he resolves to startpushing Michiko toward marriage. And though Hirayama is the central focus ofthe film, Michiko’s resistance to an arranged marriage and her own ideas abouthow her life should be lived of course come into play. The 1990’s were kind of a magicaltime for me, in retrospect.
I started junior high, high school and college inthe 90s. I had my first steady girlfriend, lost my virginity and had my firstpregnancy scare, all in the 90s. I started smoking.
I started drinking. Istarted experimenting with drugs. It was a time for new and exciting journeysfor me, from one extreme to the other.
I literally started the decade not evena teenager yet and turned 21 in 1999, the final year of the 90s. No otherdecade in the near-40 years that I’ve been alive has had as much of a hand inshaping the person I am today. Interests, people, jobs and events came andwent, and the music that I discovered throughout was the most constant andimportant part of this progression. I wish I could discuss every bandthat I discovered in the 90s that eventually became a favorite, but that wouldmake for a much longer piece. However, I do want to talk about one band inparticular that influenced me in more ways than I can count. The Afghan Whigs’1993 major label debut, Gentlemen,was, besides being my entry point to their music, critical in both my creativeand personal life. Simultaneously sexy and misanthropic, the Whigs’ melding ofindie rock with R&B and other African-American influences set them apartfrom most of their contemporaries.
The band have remained critical darlingsover the years and Gentlemen was thelandmark that brought them this notoriety. That said, this article is NOT aboutGentlemen. By the time Gentlemen was released, the Whigs already had three records undertheir belt. Upon finding this out, I had to investigate. “What kind of sordidpast could such a band have had to develop into this amalgam of dark rock &roll and sultry soul?” I thought. The first two albums, while certainly showingsigns of future brilliance, were not much more than bratty college rock - thinkThe Replacements minus balls.
Their third album (and second for Sub PopRecords), Congregation, is the pointwhen the band began its transformation. Congregationstill possesses some of the noisy grit of the early records but adds layers ofinfluences from the band’s members. Chief songwriter Greg Dulli’s affinity forR&B and blues is perhaps most prominent, but also evident is lead guitaristRick McCollum’s interest in free jazz and world music. Dulli’s lyrics tend to beunsettling, as he touches on addiction, guilt, intimacy and sexual deviancyinterchangeably, sometimes within the same song. He sings of being bothpredator (as in the record’s first single “Conjure Me,” or the boozy,after-hours-style ballad “Tonight”) and prey (as in the desperate “I’m HerSlave”). Congregation also seems tohave a darkly religious theme running throughout the album. “I am your creator,come with me my congregation,” Dulli sings on the title track, delivered fromthe point of view of a hostile deity (“get up, I’ll smack you back down”).Further tying into this theme is the cover version of “The Temple” from therock opera Jesus Christ Superstar, ofwhich Dulli was an avid fan.
Dulli’s lyrics and voice are perfectly juxtaposedwith the rock/soul hybrid of the band. McCollum’s leads are dissonant andjagged in the vein of early Fugazi, but he adds a kind of funk swagger to hisplaying that recalls the Bar-Kays or Curtis Mayfield’s finest moments.
Addingto this atmosphere is the tribal-style drumming of Steve Earle (not that Steve Earle - the Whigs’ regulardrummer), who would influence a teenaged me in my own creative pursuits. Theband’s influences really come together on the hidden track “Miles Iz Dead,” alast-minute tribute song added to the album when news of Miles Davis’ passingreached Dulli while in the studio. I know that many who are familiarwith the band are mostly familiar with Gentlemen,or the other latter day major label albums that brought the band to themainstream. And that is okay, because those records are killer.
But this is therecord that kick-started that journey for the band. Even Dulli himself saysabout Congregation that it’s “therecord where we came into our own.” It’s the perfect bridge between the rawaggression of their early material and the sexy soulfulness of their latercareer. Honestly, I could go on and on about the album, and the Afghan Whigs ingeneral. They coaxed me into manhood in a way that no other band did. To havethem be one of the most important bands to me during my formative years givesthis stepping stone album an extremely special place in my heart.
So, no amountof adjective-slinging will capture that magic that is Congregation. In other words, don’t take my word for it. Listen tothe record. One of my dad’s favorite movies when I was growing up was 48 Hrs.
He loved it and I would oftenhear him quote lines from it to his buddies. Since I thought my dad was thefunniest dude in the world in those days, I became obsessed with seeing themovie. Due to its “R” rating, however, neither of my parents would let me watchit. Except for my memorizing of the film synopsis on the back of the VHS boxand occasionally sneaking downstairs late at night while my parents werewatching the film to see 30- to 40-second clips here and there, I never gotfamiliar with 48 Hrs. Until muchlater in life. But I was obsessed with it, and I would quote those same linesthat my dad would quote to my own friends at school. For all intents andpurposes, it was “my favorite movie” and I had never even seen it.
What madethe film so appealing to me was not only the presence of Eddie Murphy (althoughI was already a giant fan of his stand-up comedy records, unbeknownst to myparents), but the other leading man: Nick Nolte. I loved his roguish good looksand his gruff cigarette smoker’s voice. I loved his large and looming stature.I loved that he would use verbal and physical jabs at his film counterpart whenhe became frustrated with him (which was often) like some kind of modern-dayMoe Howard. Nick Nolte became my first favorite actor and I wanted to seeeverything he’d ever done. In 1989,when I was eleven years old, a little film called Three Fugitives was released in theaters. Directed by FrancisVeber, it pairs Nolte with Martin Short.
The film is a remake of the Frenchfilm Les Fugitifs, also directed byVeber. As a comedy fan, I was excited by the fact that Mr. Ed Grimley himselfwas starring in a new film with my favorite actor. I was even more excited bythe film’s “PG-13” rating.
I bothered my parents for weeks to take me to themovie, but alas it came and went in theaters and I never got to go. And backthen, it seemed to take ten years between theatrical release and home videorelease. When I finally saw the film, it was worth the wait. I instantly lovedit and has become a go-to movie for me ever since. Nolte playsDaniel Lucas, an ex-con who was just released from prison after serving fiveyears of a ten-year sentence for armed robbery.
On the day he is released,Lucas goes to the nearest bank with his prison payroll check to open a savingsaccount. While inside, an armed man (Short) comes in and holds the place up.The robber is inept and clumsy and barely bungles through the robbery. When thepolice are notified, the robber decides to take a hostage and picks Lucas.
Dueto Lucas’ past, the police assume that he and the robber are working together.After eluding the police and accidentally shooting Lucas in the leg, the robberidentifies himself as Ned Perry, an unemployed widower who robbed the bank toprovide for his six-year-old daughter, Meg, who has been mute since the deathof her mother. After Ned enlists the help of his senile veterinarian friend totend to Lucas’ wound, Lucas, Ned and Meg all go on the lam, much to Lucas’chagrin. The trio end up forming an unlikely family-type bond in the process. The film seems to be widely disliked by viewers and critics. Its Rotten Tomatoes scoreis so embarrassingly low that I don’t even want to say what it is here. Usercomments tend to range from “unfunny, dated” to “irredeemably uneven.” While Ido think that those words are a trifle harsh, I’m not going to argue and tellyou that it’s a groundbreaking piece of cinema or anything like that. It justisn’t.
However, I can say that it’s a warm story with a hilarious cast thatworks very well together. The scenes between Nolte and the little girl areparticularly touching. When the two get separated from Ned, it is up to the reluctantLucas to watch over Meg as they track her father down. Meg becomes so fond ofher temporary guardian that when they do find her father and Lucas decides topart ways with them, Meg breaks her years-long silent spell and utters thewords, “don’t go.” The scene is so heart-wrenching that I get close to tearingup every time I see it. Even Lucas and Ned’s relationship starts out violentand angry and forms into a close friendship (still with some occasionalviolence). It reminds me very much of Nolte’s prior on-screen dynamic withEddie Murphy in 48 Hrs.
Call it nostalgia or sentimentality, but my cockles still get all warm watching this movie. When Iwas re-watching it recently for this article, I felt like eleven-year old Jonagain. I laughed at the same dumb jokes and slapstick moments from the film’sleading men. I got excited at the more action-oriented scenes. Most of all, Iwas reminded what it was like to be a kid obsessed with a movie star. I don’texpect this reaction from most viewers; the film hasn’t aged super well, afterall.
But I do think that if you grew up in the ‘80s and are a fan ofbuddy-style crime comedies, ThreeFugitives might just be right up your alley.