UNMANN-WITTERING BLOG

We Have Moved

2011-04-13T12:00:00.000+01:00

Exciting News For Optimists

2011-04-13T00:00:00.022+01:00

Depressing News for Pessimists

I started this weblog exactly two years ago, and it’s given me a lot of pleasure to share all this odd stuff with the world even though, for the first six months at least, there was very little evidence that anyone else in the world was watching.

Over time, however, the blog gathered momentum and a fair few followers, and it felt a very worthwhile activity, a sort of online scrapbook, a way of recording some of my daft obsessions and passing phases in an almost therapeutic way. But despite your support and some great comments, standard blogging remains an essentially solo activity, and it requires the individual to be motivated and excited and brimming with ideas they want to communicate. For me, my motivation, excitement and ideas now all focus on ‘Island Of Terror’, my other blog, so I will be suspending this blog and moving all activity over to there.

If you currently follow this blog, or look in occasionally, it would be great if you would bookmark or follow ‘Island Of Terror’ instead. It’s less general, or rather more specific, but I’m still behind every post, so you can expect a similar approach and some familiar subject matter: I’m too old to change.

Thanks to everyone that ever read this blog and liked it, special thanks to people who read it regularly. I don’t see this as a funeral, I see it as wedding announcement, a merger, much in the same way that Valiant merged with Vulcan, Battle merged with Action, 2000AD merged with Starlord, then Tornado (well, maybe not Tornado, it was rubbish).

All content will remain here for future generations of nerds, and all links will, I hope, remain live. Let me know if they don’t. Thanks again, and I hope to see you on The Island.

Paul Bareham (aka Ray Wittering)

To see us out, a stone cold fucking classic, and that's swearing.

Disco Wrestler

2011-04-12T00:00:00.008+01:00

Every seventies icon needs their own record and although not speaking didn’t stop Marcel Marceau from recording an LP, Kendo Nagasaki decided to let others pay tribute rather than blow his own trumpet.

Lloyd Ryan is a drummer, and a good one, or a bad one when you consider that he taught Phil Collins to play. Impressed by a mighty Kendo television appearance in 1975, he recorded ‘Kendo’s Theme’. It wasn’t a hit, despite a lot of airplay, but Kendo liked it and used it for his entrance music for several years. Lloyd later became Kendo’s manager.

Kendo Attitude

2011-04-11T00:00:00.005+01:00

Kendo Nagasaki is one of the great enigmas of British wrestling and, as such, also counts as a cultural icon of that wonderful, awful decade, the 1970’s.

Televised wrestling was hugely popular in the seventies, although most of the stars were grizzled old hands from the national circuit, veterans of a thousand bouts, some of whom had been plying their trade since the fifties.

Kendo Nagasaki was a different type of wrestler entirely.

Rather than the usual costume of a paunch, boots and briefs, Kendo came to the ring in Samurai regalia and fought in a full face mask. He never spoke, he rarely acknowledged the crowd. No-one was quite sure if he was a goodie or a baddie, although, in full flow, he was a pretty scary individual regardless of his motivation. He always won, or got disqualified. No other wrestler could defeat him. Under the management of the flamboyant ‘Gorgeous’ George Gillette, Nagasaki became one of the shining stars of the sport, a massive success.

His mask first slipped (or rather was ripped off) in a 1971 bout, but Nagasaki successfully covered his face and the fight was ended. In 1975, hugely popular tub of guts Big Daddy got the better of Nagasaki (as if) unlaced his mask and tore it off on live television but, instead of settling a mystery, only deepened the enigma. Nagasaki’s face, half glimpsed between Nagasaki’s covering hands, was very odd indeed. His hair was long but shaved at the front and sides. There was a tattoo on the top of his head. His eyes were jet black. It was a disorienting and disturbing experience. I was glad when he put his mask back on.

In 1977, apparently fed up with being famous and unknown at the same time, Nagasaki arranged an elaborate and ridiculously overblown public unmasking: very public, as it was televised live on World of Sport to a massive, eager audience, including me and my Nan. It was, ultimately, an anti climax, but the anticipation was very exciting.

Nagasaki spent most of the late seventies retiring and un-retiring. He acted a little, and had his portrait painted by Peter Blake, a process captured in a memorable BBC Arena documentary. The popularity of WWF in the nineteen nineties gave British wrestling a little boost, and Kendo returned to the ring. Unbelievably (or quite plausibly given the limited actual physical demands of a staged wrestling match), Nagasaki was still wrestling up until 2008 when, by conservative estimate, he would have been in his mid-sixties.

I met Kendo in 2005, at a book signing in Leeds for ‘The Grapple Manual’. Even sat down, he’s a formidable looking figure and, of course, he had all the gear on. He didn’t say anything, or even look at me, he just signed my book very, very slowly. When I looked at what he had written I had a very familiar reaction to this most enigmatic of sporting legends: confused and slightly scared.

The World will be a vacant lot

2011-04-10T15:00:00.000+01:00

With the much loved Three Stooges all safely dead, Hanna-Barbera thought it appropriate to resurrect them in 1977 as bionic crime fighting super hero klutzes living and working in the year 3001. It must have made sense in the Disco Age as the show actually ran for two seasons, something a lot of their great productions (including 'Top Cat' and 'Yogi Bear') hadn't managed to do.

It's a mess, and has the specific deadly unfunniness of something that seems to find itself utterly hilarious. I'm suprised that Moe, Larry & Curly didn't dig themselves up and come looking for revenge. Anyway, here's an episode of, yes, 'The Robonic Stooges' called, get this, 'Star Flaws'.

This is just the tip of the Hanna-Barbera iceberg, by the way, but watching them makes me tired and depressed.

It's the flaming rocks

2011-04-10T12:00:00.013+01:00

While I'm here, it would be remiss not to look at one of my other interests: crappy Hanna Barbera cartoons. I'm not talking about 'Huckleberry Hound', or 'The Flintstones', or 'Wacky Races', or any of that classic, timeless entertainment: I'm talking about the barrel scrapings, the cheap, thoughtless, nonsensical schedule fillers that would shame anybody, let alone two of the greatest cartoon producers of all time.

Case in point: 'Moby Dick', meeting the obvious demand for a cartoon set in the present (well, 1969) where Moby Dick likes children so much he helps them to solve underwater intrigue. A fantastic touch is the decision to make the picture undulate and refract constantly for that authentic undersea feel, an effect that is disorienting and, ultimately, makes you feel a bit sick. Everything about this cartoon is poor, including the quality of the copy. Funnily enough, it's not currently available on DVD.

This incomprehensible mess sums up the worst aspects of the mercurial Mr. H & Mr. B, inconsistency and the favouring of quantity over quality, meaning that for every 'Top Cat' there was a 'Herculoids', for every 'Hong Kong Phooey', a 'Jabberjaw', for every Scooby Doo, a Scrappy.

Rather pitifully, I have become slightly expert in this rubbish over the years, but, fear not, I am more than happy to share my knowledge with you.

I'll never forget what's his name

2011-04-10T00:00:00.009+01:00

Johnny Shannon.

F*** Me, It's Freddie

2011-04-09T00:00:00.003+01:00

Bless you, Sir Fred.

Throwaway Pop

2011-04-08T00:00:00.009+01:00

From an earlier album (‘Nashville Skyline’, 1969), ‘I Threw It All Away’ is probably my favourite Bob Dylan song.

Over a simple backing (Dylan said ‘I just play, and the band fill in’) he croons one of his most direct lyrics: the story of a man who behaves badly towards his lover and, too late, realises what he has lost.

Firmly in the country and western style, it’s a short, simple song but it has great elegance and economy and an emotional depth that , like all the best country tunes, appeals directly to the heart and the part of the head where we store regrets.

Covered many times, Dylan’s original remains the best, although Scott Walker’s 1996 recording is a close second. Scott, using his wavery mature voice and singing over a slightly florid arrangement, gives a performance that, at first, sounds faintly ridiculous but is actually incredibly dignified and rather moving.

Much as I admire Scott for his classical / industrial recordings, and as much as I’m grateful that he records anything, I would love to hear that he’s recording an album of covers, as his interpretive powers are absolutely unique. How about it, Mr. Engel?

Morning Glory

2011-04-07T00:00:00.008+01:00

Bob Dylan is an artist that I respect rather than admire. I mean, I get him, his talent, his importance, his impact on popular music, and I have about half a dozen of his records but I just don’t listen to five of them much. ‘New Morning’, however, is a different story.

Dylan recorded ‘New Morning’ in 1970. It’s not his best album, or his most innovative, but it’s the one that chimes with me, a record that I return to again and ‘New Morning’ is not a lazy LP, but it’s an easy one, straightforward, slightly ragged around the edges. It’s a good natured record that seems to hint at a happy home, which celebrates the simple things in life, the things that cost nothing but mean everything: fresh air, trees and water, family, love. As he sings on the title track ‘so happy just to be alive, underneath the sky of blue’. What else is there?

Here’s that title track in all its scrappy glory. It’s a great song, full of optimism and exuberance and you get the feeling that the band is a. enjoying themselves and b. making it up as they go along.

‘Went To See The Gypsy’ is apparently about Dylan failing to meet Elvis in Vegas but, as with most Dylan songs, that’s open to interpretation.

My favourite song on the album is ‘Sign On The Window’. It’s a beautiful treatise on the joys of domestic bliss which, as a happily married family man, always strikes a chord with me.

It’s a great LP. Get one.

I'll never forget what's his name

2011-04-06T00:00:00.005+01:00

Roy Evans.

Shit that I am hopelessly addicted to

2011-04-05T00:00:00.003+01:00

S-s-s-sensational

2011-04-04T18:25:00.000+01:00

Exile On Planet Gonk

2011-04-04T00:00:00.037+01:00

Ever since I started looking at the work of Robert Hartford-Davis I knew that this awful moment would come: 'Gonks Go Beat'.

Regular readers will know that Hartford-Davis' work is of, how shall we say, variable quality but 'GGB' really takes the piss.

The premise is that intergalactic ambassador Kenneth Connor is sent to Earth to resolve the ongoing conflict between two rival states, Beatland and Balladisle.

Beatland, as you may have guessed, is full of polo necks, sunglasses and hair that touches collars, and Balladisle is all ties and hushpuppies and songs with spoken middle eights that make you want to be sick. If Ken doesn't manage to heal the rift he'll be exiled to the Planet Gonk, a fearful place apparently inhabited by close cousins of Humpty Dumpty from 'Playschool', i.e. the sort of flammable spike concealing soft toys they fill the grabbers with at the fair.

It's one of the most stilted productions I've ever seen. You can get Connor and people like Frank Thornton to say 'swinging' and 'groovy' but Hartford-Davis can't get them to look anything other than deeply pained when they do. The budget is virtually non-existent, and most of the scenes look like they were shot in The Beachcomber Bar in Butlins Bognor Regis. Most of all, though, it's the awful, awful music and the ugly, ugly people, a string of sub-standard fourth division groups and singers performing derivative, boring and old-fashioned songs (the worst are co-written by Hartford-Davis himself), culminating in an appearance by Lulu. I fucking hate Lulu.

Here's a couple of clips which should settle the whole 'come on, it can't be that bad' debate. The first takes us inside Kenneth Connor's head for a while to watch the aforementioned toxic toys and a dated dance routine. Una Stubbs must have been out when they called.

The second clip comes at the 'climax' of the film, and, despite a nice array of vintage musical equipment, more than supports the maxim 'war is hell'.

That concludes our business with Robert Hartford-Davis. Thank Christ.

Tonight at ten

2011-04-03T21:59:00.003+01:00

I like Sir John a lot

2011-04-02T00:00:00.008+01:00

Regular readers of this weblog will be aware of my love for folk giants Pentangle. This extends to all the various solo endeavours of the group members (of which there are many), including the work of guitarist John Renbourn.

Renbourn studied classical guitar at school before getting caught up in the Skiffle boom, Diligent and studious, he traced Skiffle back to its American Folk Blues origins, before following the line back to the British folk tradition. His playing, which blended folk, rhythm and blues, jazz and classical styles made an impact on the rather conservative folk scene, especially when he teamed up with another eager iconoclast Bert Jansch.

Renbourn and Jansch made several albums as a duo, and the interplay between the two guitarists is dazzling and occasionally exhausting. Their work rate during the mid to late sixties is quite amazing, with them releasing several solo and duo albums, often using their own records to test out and hone material for Pentangle.

‘Sir John Alot of Merrie Englandes Musyk Thyng & Ye Grene Knyghte’ (1968) is my favourite Renbourn solo album. It’s one of my favourite records by anyone. Ostensibly his reading of early music, it encompasses a number of styles but never sounds too clever or contrived. It is sometimes forgotten in the world of the high concept pop single that music isn’t necessarily about production and energy and philosophical lyrics, and here John delivers a short, simply recorded album of guitar music (played brilliantly, which helps) which operates outside of trends and genres and subtext: it’s simply music, and its timeless and absolutely wonderful.

I’m a generally quite easy going person but, like everyone, I have my stresses and strains. When I feel particularly het up, I often take thirty one minutes out to listen to ‘Sir John A Lot’. It doesn’t take the problem away, but it certainly makes it seem absolutely irrelevant. That’s a hell of an achievement for one man and a guitar and a few supporting musicians. We need records like that in the world, I need records like that. It’s a shame there aren’t too many around.

Here’s a little medley from the LP, which is available very reasonably in all sorts of formats from the usual outlets. Wherever you are, and whatever you are doing, I guarantee that this music will take you somewhere slightly better.

F*** Me, It's Freddie

2011-04-01T00:00:00.005+01:00

Ynr, 'Krull' (1983).

A Cautionary Tale

2011-03-31T20:38:00.000+01:00

Radiophonic Jamboree

2011-03-31T00:00:00.026+01:00

We all like Radiophonics, don't we? I know I blooming do. & I've got nothing against Bristol, so I'm particularly aggrieved that I'm unable to attend the Radiophonic Weekend at The Cube Cinema, Bristol which is happening on Saturday and Sunday.

My son is ten years old on the 2nd and although he means the world to me I may look at him bouncing on his inflatable castle and silently wish he'd been born on April Fool's as his 'special day' is stopping me from seeing Radiophonic legends David Cain and Dick Mills in the flesh, the premiere of a new Delia Derbyshire documentary, a demonstration of some new instruments from inventor and electronic music expert Ian Helliwell, a live set from Ekoplekz and, well, I could go on, but won't, as I'm making myself feel sad.

More details can be found here. It looks like a fantastic event, and I wish I could be there but, ultimately, I only have one son, and he only has one birthday. The selfish, selfish little devil.

Arrividerci, Giallo

2011-03-30T00:00:00.006+01:00

Well, it's been an interesting month, hasn't it? Hasn't it? I sort of ran out of steam at the end there but I hope you've enjoyed it and will perhaps seek out a few of the films highlighted in the last few weeks.

I’ve spent more time on You Tube than I usually would as part of this process and have noticed that several of the films are there in their entirety, although you will have to watch them in nine or ten segments. Vimeo have some as well, often in one piece. In terms of DVD’s, Giallo is simultaneously well and under-represented on UK shelves, i.e. it’s nice that there are so many, but there could be so much more…

Good, bad or 'Spasmo' there's usually at least one moment in a giallo film that repays your investment by shocking or surprising or scaring or confusing you or making you laugh like a drain. It’s a fascinating genre, a mix of the brilliant and bizarre, the deft and the daft, the good, the bad, giallo.

Normal service will be resumed tomorrow.

Molto Gialli

2011-03-28T00:00:00.011+01:00

With thanks again to Giallo Trailers.

Earthborn

2011-03-27T17:00:00.000+01:00

There's a brand new U-W mix of old stuff by other people over at Island of Terror, by the way. You should definitely vist there after you've been here.

Autopsy

2011-03-26T00:00:00.009Z

Giallo Guys

2011-03-25T12:00:00.007Z

Tomas Milian,
b. Thomas Quintin Rodriguez,
Havana, Cuba, 1932.

Giallo Girls

2011-03-25T00:00:00.005Z

Florinda Bolkan,
b. Florinda Bulcao,
Fortaleza, Brazil, 1941.

Queen of Sin

2011-03-24T19:31:00.003Z

Just to break in, there's this and lots more besides over on the Island Of Terror.

For A Fistful of Lira

2011-03-24T18:00:00.006Z

"This time last year I was in the studio narrating a Rick Wakeman album."

David Hemmings,
'Deep Red'.

ProgGoblin

2011-03-24T12:00:00.007Z

Profondo Trailo

2011-03-23T00:00:00.000Z

After his Animal Trilogy, Dario Argento turned away from giallo, working in television before directing a period comedy, all presumably to stop him being pigeonholed as the 'giallo guy'. In 1975 he returned to the genre with one of the best and most accessible of all giallo films: 'Deep Red' ('Profondo Rosso'). Critically acclaimed internationally, it starred David Hemmings and was an extremely stylish if occasionally mystifying thriller filled with atmosphere, violence and genuine mystery. Here's the trailer.

After this, Argento became pigeonholed as the 'horror guy', although his earliest films in this vein ('Suspira', 'Inferno') are perhaps more accurately described as supernatural giallo. 'Tenebrae' (1982) fits the bill, but it's poorly directed and shoddily written and I'm not having it.

In 2009, Argento directed 'Giallo', an obvious return to the genre. I haven't seen it yet but Argento has taken his name off it, and Oscar winning idiot Adrien Brody had to sue the producers for his fee, so I expect it will be a triumph.

Seems Perfectly Clear

2011-03-22T00:00:00.002Z

'In The Folds Of The Flesh' (1970)

Mo' Yellow

2011-03-21T00:00:00.006Z

Some random, variable quality trailers. The last is brilliantly designed, features some great, languid music from Stelvio Cipriani and is better known in the UK as 'Bay Of Blood'.

Giallo Guys

2011-03-20T12:00:00.001Z

Giancarlo Giannini,
b. La Spezia, Italy, 1942.

Giallo Girls

2011-03-20T00:00:00.006Z

Suzy Kendall,
b. Frieda Harrison,
Belper, England, 1944.

Giallo 101:Violence

2011-03-19T00:00:00.000Z

The life expectancy in a giallo is pretty short, particularly if you're a young and beautiful woman. Violence is a standard feature of the genre, and things can get very bloody and unpleasant indeed. In giallo, the killer will use whatever is to hand to make their point, and although the favourite method is a knife or a cut throat razor, these are not the only deadly weapons in the murderer's arsenal.

Strangulation is popular, either using a scarf (sometimes the victim's own) or, even better, some sort of ligature that will cut the throat as it chokes. Occasionally, the killer will use their hands, but they must be gloved. Hanging is a good choice, especially if you want to try and make it look like suicide.

Drowning is a real favourite. If you're a sadist like Dario Argento, you can drown your victims in a scalding hot bath, but this is pretty messy and unneccessary. A good director will exploit the introduction of water to create some memorable shots and a post mortem stab will provide a bloody but striking visual note.

Power tools have the advantage of being around when you need them. It's hard to think of a more menacing image than a leather clad nutjob approaching you with a whirring drill or circular saw. In 'My Dear Killer', the murderer uses a digger to decapitate his first victim, but plant machinery is not quite so easy to come by and can draw attention.

You can, of course, always improvise. If you're at the beach, why not bury someone alive? If you're in a skyscraper, it seems obvious to push someone out of a window or down a lift shaft. If you're at the railway station, it stands to reason that you should throw people into the path of an oncoming train. Be flexible.

Violence can take place anywhere and at anytime, of course, although night is preferred for obvious reasons. Lifts, underground car parks and mannequin factories make excellent venues. Perhaps the optimum time to settle that psychotic score is when your target is having sex: not only will they not expect it, you're also able to kill two birds with one spear.

That'll teach 'em, the dirty bastards.

Don't Torture A Duckling

2011-03-18T00:00:00.017Z

A Fistful Of Lira

2011-03-17T00:00:00.002Z

"No, not interested, I hate the script...wait...how much? When's the next plane to Rome?'

Eli Wallach,
'Plot Of Fear'.

Hatchet Job

2011-03-16T00:00:00.000Z

Another Mario Bava film, 1970's 'Hatchet For The Honeymoon'. Just listen to that music.

Giallo Guys

2011-03-15T12:00:00.011Z

Ivan Rassimov,
b. Trieste, Serbia, 1938
d. Rome, Italy, 2003

Giallo Girls

2011-03-15T00:00:00.008Z

Barbara Bouchet,
b. Barbara Goutscher,
Reichenberg, Germany, 1943.

Death Laid An Egg

2011-03-14T00:00:00.009Z

Mixed Bag Of Yellow

2011-03-13T00:00:00.022Z

French Masters

2011-03-12T12:00:00.016Z

Awful and inaccurate cover art from a French VHS release of 'Lizard In A Woman's Skin' .

Giallo 101: Mind Games

2011-03-12T00:00:00.033Z

Regardless of all the garrotting and heads being smashed through windows, giallo is as much about psychological horror as violence and blood, blood, blood.

Aside from the obvious strain on the nerves of being pursued by a relentless psychotic killer, giallo often allows the protagonists unsettling additional glimpses into a nightmare via classic narrative devices, i.e. the dream / nightmare and the flashback / premonition, which serves to further muck around with their, and the audience’s heads.

The best Gialli are already psychedelic and discombobulating, so the addition of fantasy sequences clearly cranks up the 'you what?' dial considerably, especially as they’re not beyond chucking in these sequences as surreal red herrings.

Here’s a fairly straightforward dream / nightmare sequence from the gothic giallo 'Seven Deaths In The Cat's Eye', a French-British-Italian co-production from 1973 which stars Jane Birkin (not my favourite actress) and features a cameo from her famous paramour Serge Gainsbourg (him, I like). The cat is a pretty good actor, and the nightmare itself is effectively creepy.

This example from 'Lizard In A Woman's Skin' (1972) is much more ambiguous, a flashback of a dream which is also a premonition . Florinda Bolkan must have been on some particularly strong Gorgonzola that night. I defy you not to watch this with your jaw slightly open.

Giallo is nothing if not a la mode, of course, so drug hallucinations get thrown into the pot as well. 'Death Walks At Midnight' is from 1972 and stars Susan Scott. Scott plays a famous model who takes LSD for a magazine article. During the trip she 'sees' a vicious (and it really is pretty nasty) murder committed by a ratfaced Phil Spector lookalike. Naturally, it's no simple bad trip, this guy really is out there and he really does have a metal glove with spikes on it. Owww.

So, there you go. It's hardly a thesis, but you get the general idea. Giallo is mental.

Giallo Guys

2011-03-11T18:00:00.000Z

George Hilton,
b. Jorge Hill Acosta y Lara
Montevideo, Uruguay, 1934

Sexy Trilogy

2011-03-11T12:00:00.000Z

'The Strange Vice Of Mrs. Wardh' (1971)

'Your Vice Is A Locked Room & Only I Have the Key' (1972).

'All The Colours Of The Dark' (1972).

Unofficial trailers for the three superb psychosexual gialli that director Sergio Martino made with his beautiful sister in law (!) Edwige Fenech, courtesy of GialloTrailers.

Giallo Girls

2011-03-11T00:00:00.000Z

Edwige Fenech,
b. Edwige Sfenek,
Bone, French Algeria, 1948.

Musica Morricone

2011-03-10T00:00:00.022Z

One of the defining features of giallo is fantastic soundtrack music, with the music sometimes being the saving grace of otherwise fairly ordinary films.

The sheer volume of talent in the Italian music industry in this period cannot be overstated. Any country in the world would have considered itself lucky to have a Bruno Nicolai, for example, but having a Piero Piccioni, Stelvio Cipriani and Piero Umiliani at the same time is almost taking the piss.

Despite the superlative competition, however, there is, however, only one man who is the undisputed King of the genre, Il Maestro, Ennio Morricone.

Morricone is, to my mind, probably the greatest composer of the 20th century (he hasn't done as much this century, but then he is in his eighties). Morricone's music transcends the genre distinctions between soundtrack, classical, jazz and pop music entirely - he just makes music, Morricone Music.

Famously busy, his hectic schedule actually gave him the opportunity that all true artists need: to work constantly and to focus entirely on his genius at someone else's expense. In his music you can hear him methodically working through a series of sounds and rhythms and styles, wringing out every nuance from, say, a jaw harp or a vocal group or a whistle or a trumpet, before moving on to the next logical step in the sequence. The result for the listener is an incredible library of sound which, never having been surpassed, is now being recycled to add some content to today's crappy blockbusters.

I could go on and on and on about Ennio, but the full story would entail stepping outside of the realms of the giallo genre which, despite representing one of his most fertile creative periods, is really only the tip of the iceberg in terms of his achievements.

Here are but three examples of his work for giallo films, all different, but all unmistakeably Morricone. As a demonstration of his tireless work ethic, these all come from films released in 1971.

Firstly, here's 'Ninna Nanna In Blu' from Argento's 'The Cat O' Nine Tails'. It's ostensibly a very pretty song, but with just enough darkness to not seem totally at odds with the creepy content of the story it accompanies. The moment when the strings come in is one of my favourite Morricone moments.

Next up, 'Psicosi Ossessiva', where Morricone creates a sense of unbearable tension simply by tuning a guitar up. Taken from 'The Black Belly Of The Tarantula'.

Finally (for now), here's 'Giorno di Notte' from the soundtrack to 'Lizard In A Woman's Skin', proving old Ennio can lay down a beat and a funky guitar with the best of them, even if it jangles the nerves a little bit and is a bugger to dance to.

More Morricone soon.

Animal Trilogy

2011-03-09T00:00:00.005Z

Dario Argento is probably still the best known giallo director, with his first three entries in the genre (the so called 'Animal Trilogy') finding a sizeable international audience and some serious critical analysis.

Dubbed the Italian Hitchcock, Argento's early films are much the same as his lavish later horror productions: terribly stylish, often incomprehensible, fantastically watchable. Despite his best efforts, Hitchcock was never as hip as this, nor as sadistic. Music for all three films was provided by the matchless Ennio Morricone.

A Fistful Of Lira

2011-03-08T00:00:00.004Z

Gialli actors are a cosmopolitan bunch, with very few films boasting an all Italian cast. In particular, the genre was able to attract illustrious stars of stage and screen from all over the world to act in minor, undemanding and uninteresting roles by the simple expedient of throwing money at them. This is an ongoing tribute to those who simply couldn't resist.

'I want cash. Pounds Sterling. Used notes. & I get to keep the syrup and the tie.'

Stanley Baker,
Lizard In A Woman's Skin

The Case Of The Bloody Iris

2011-03-07T00:00:00.008Z

In Bleeding Colour

2011-03-06T00:00:00.078Z

Trailer for Mario Bava's 'Blood & Black Lace' (1964), one of the earliest, if not the first, giallo.

Giallo 101: The Killer

2011-03-05T02:00:00.000Z

Know your enemy: a brief description of the qualities of a Giallo Killer.

The giallo killer is usually masked, prolonging the mystery of their identity for as long as possible. The mask itself covers the whole head, fitting tightly across the features. The eyes may or not be visible, or may be further concealed behind dark glasses. The main thing is disguise, so the mask can be latex, fabric or fiberglass, like the crash helmet the killer wears in ‘What Have They Done To Your Daughters?’ A standard mask is often paired with a big black hat.

Black is a very big Giallo colour. The killer often wears only black, but then it is very slimming. The ensemble can be a wetsuit, a cat suit or a simple dark suit. Leather is popular, but any material will be considered. A belted black trench coat is often utilised to round off the outfit: the collar must be up at all times.

Gloves are essential, of course. Leather gloves add a specific element of kink, but rubber or latex is more practical, and also makes a satisfying smacking sound when put on. The psychosexual undertones of the giallo killer’s wardrobe are less than subtle.

The giallo killer will usually favour a knife (back to the psycho sexual). This allows close contact with the victim, penetration and lots of blood. They will stab anywhere, with eyes and throats being particular targets. Giallo killings are rarely clean or particularly quick. There will be fear and suffering and the glint of light on a polished blade. More elaborate methods can be used, but they must be executed in the most callous way imaginable.

Nine times out of ten, the giallo killer will choose a woman as his victim, especially if they are getting ready for bed or a bath and will be either naked or scantily clad. That said, if pushed a giallo killer will murder anybody, including men, children, pensioners and pets, they just don’t wait for these targets to undress before they do it.

The giallo killer will be vicious and relentless. Regardless of their apparent motivation (knocking off witnesses, whittling down heirs, revenge) they will always be psychotically and criminally insane. They will usually demonstrate their madness in the brief period between their unmasking and their (usually very unpleasant) comeuppance. The role of giallo killer is an equal opportunities post.

The killer will always be someone you already suspected but not much or someone who has been totally incidental to the story. If you were to investigate the case backwards, starting from the identification of the killer, you would soon realise that the case makes no sense whatsoever which is why, presumably, the killer always falls off or into or onto something nasty at the end in order to avoid the problems of amassing enough evidence to convict.

Note of caution: these rules do not neccessarily apply.

Giallo Guys

2011-03-05T00:00:00.001Z

Luigi Pistilli,
b. Grossetto, Italy, 1944
d. Milan, Italy, 1996

Sophisticated Shake

2011-03-04T00:05:00.001Z

From 'Femina Ridens' ('The Frightened Woman'), 1969. Music by Stelvio Cipriani, dancing by Dagmar Lassander.

Giallo Girls

2011-03-04T00:00:00.000Z

Dagmar Lassander,
b. Dagmar Hager,
Prague, Czechoslovakia, 1943.

Yellows

2011-03-03T18:00:00.005Z

Giallo 101: Some Basics

2011-03-03T00:00:00.000Z

Here’s a clip that illustrates just how quickly a standard day in Gialloland can get completely out of hand. This scene occurs immediately after the title sequence so, within seconds, the characters and the viewer are plunged into a dark world of horror and intrigue and stabbing. Giallo films rarely beat around the bush, either starting with a murder or a sex scene (often leading to a murder), so you need to get comfy quickly. Don't worry if you become (and stay) confused, it's all part of the fun.

Two things to note about this excerpt from ‘Death Carries A Cane’ (1973). Firstly, star Susan Scott (from Andalucia, Spain, real name: Nieves Navarro) appears to have located that rarest of items: a public telescope with a zoom facility, and, secondly, the dubbing. Dubbing is a feature of many Giallo that can (as with some spaghetti westerns) sometimes make the film unintentionally comic. It doesn’t bother me particularly, although I much prefer subtitles, and the unintentionally comic can often get you through some of the less interesting examples.

In this second clip, we see another Giallo characteristic: the red herring. In ‘Death Carries A Cane’, for example, the only thing we know about the killer is that he / she has mobility problems. To this end, virtually every character in the film is seen hobbling around or wielding a walking stick at some point in order to keep us guessing. In this scene, the implication could be that Susan Scott’s boyfriend (Robert Hoffman) is the killer - but I couldn’t vouch for it…it’s rather subtle…

Giallo is not an Agatha Christie novel (although some of them use Christie as their source material). It isn’t intricately plotted or even watertight: it’s concerned with visceral thrills and excitement, sex and violence. Somewhere amongst all the twists and turns there will be a clue, or perhaps not: giallo is not big on detail. If it were a rollercoaster ride, it would be a health and safety nightmare and, when you got off, you wouldn't be at the same Theme Park.

Welcome to Giallo Month!

2011-03-02T00:00:00.004Z

Before we start, I just wanted to say that there are lots of Giallo experts out there – I am not one of them. Out of the 150 or so films considered to be part of the canon, I’ve only seen perhaps 40, so I have a long way to go.

That said, imperfect knowledge has never stopped me before, so I’m going to smear my opinions all over regardless. I also don't speak Italian, so I will be calling the films by their English titles where I can.

Giallo is a fascinating subject and the films, at their best, represent cinema firing on all cylinders: dramatic, inventive, stylish, exciting, surprising. I’ll do my best to highlight some of the things I love about them, but if you want something more considered than my prattling then there are any number of sites where you can receive enlightenment, including:

Giallo Fever, Killing In Style and Lovelock & Load

WARNING: You may have noticed that you now have to confirm that you're an adult to enter the site. There's a good reason for that: giallo isn't for kids. The clips and stills to be featured will contain nudity and sadistic violence so, if you are bothered by that sort of thing then you will almost certainly be offended by some of the upcoming content.

To kick off, here’s a short clip from ‘The Black Belly Of The Tarantula’(Paolo Cavar, 1971) which sort of sums up what to expect: blood, violence, nudity, death, i.e. Giallo!

Yellow News

2011-03-01T00:00:00.001Z

Giallo films are Italian crime thrillers made between the mid sixties and the late seventies, although the peak period was was probably 1970-1974. A good giallo will feature:

a convoluted plot that moves fast enough that you don't have time to realise none of it makes any sense;
a series of brutal, sometimes ingenious murders perpetrated by a seemingly unstoppable killer (sometimes masked, always gloved);
stylish production, camera work, fashions and other mod cons;
the most beautiful women in Europe, often in sexual situations;
incredible music, composed by a genius (Morricone, Piccioni; Umiliani, Cipriani, etc.).

If you already know this, you're probably wondering what this is leading to. Well, I am happy to announce that March is Giallo Month.

There'll be film clips and stills and profiles and lots of superb music from the best and worst of the sub-genre. It'll be stylish and violent and completely nonsensical and it starts here tomorrow. Ciao for now.

Important Island Related Announcement

2011-02-28T00:15:00.003Z

Ah, right, so, we now have a new blog called 'Island of Terror'. It's all about British horror and sci fi and creepy, slightly sleazy film and TV and you can visit it here.

If you like this blog, don't worry, we can do both, or all three if you include Robot Leg (come on now, we talked about this), so we'll stay on here until our inspiration runs dry in, say four weeks and two days.

If the internet has taught us anything, it's that there's always room for one more crappy blog. See you there!

Statues of the World 15

2011-02-28T00:00:00.003Z

John Cummings (1948-2004),
Los Angeles, USA.

From a window above

2011-02-27T12:00:00.000Z

I'd never liked this song until I heard Zaw Win Shein and the lads do it.

Unmann's Choice: D.G.

2011-02-27T00:00:00.031Z

A 16 year old Dana Gillespie plays and sings in this clip from the 1966 drama 'Secrets Of The Windmill Girl' (a film by Arnold Louis Miller, of 'Primitive London' and 'London In The Raw' fame). We tried, but we couldn't remember any 16 year old girls like that at our stupid school.

Shit that I am hopelessly addicted to

2011-02-26T22:45:00.004Z

Supreme Sounds

2011-02-26T00:00:00.000Z

I can't honestly say that I listen to The Supremes a lot but, whenever I do, I'm always amazed by just how good their best records are.

Talented but unsuccessful in their early years at Motown, things started to pick up for the group when Diana Ross started sleeping with label boss Berry Gordy. From there on in, The Supremes got the best songs, the best production and the best promotion, leading to a stream of deathless megahits that still sound amazing today.

Sadly, the Gordy / Ross thing would also lead to Florence Ballard and Mary Wilson being pushed further and further into the background as time went on, ending up as accessories, ultimately having to put up with the ignominy of becoming 'Diana Ross & The Supremes'.

In fact, Diana Ross is the element I dislike most in the group: her simpering, wide eyed performances are pretty tiresome, her vocals are often weak and one dimensional, her head is just too small and, of course, she couldn't score a penalty to save her life.

Probably my favourite Supremes song, 'Love Is Here & Now You're Gone' is an amazing, and pretty weird, pop confection, packed with drama and spoken word sections and delicate harpsichord, it's girl group, baroque, psychedelic and pop art all at once. It's a fantastic record, a fantastic production and a number one hit anyway you slice it.

In this clip, I like the girl's spangly super co-ordinated outfits and Florence's slightly tentative dancing. Poor Florence. As usual, Diana would like to start by saying a few words...

Tonight at Ten

2011-02-25T21:59:00.005Z

Statues of the World 14

2011-02-25T00:00:00.003Z

Sapamurat Niyazov (1940-2006),
Ashgabat, Turkmenistan.

Hartford-Davis, You Bastard

2011-02-24T00:00:00.001Z

After the moderate success of ‘Black Gunn’, Brit director in (self-imposed) exile Robert Hartford-Davis blaxploited for a second time with ‘The Take’ (1974), his last ever feature film.

Based on a novel about corruption in the London Metropolitan Police Force (the subtly titled ‘Sir, You Bastard’ by G.F Newman), Hartford-Davis transposes the action from the UK to the US, and the sleazy cockney copper lead into the smooth personage of Mr. Billy Dee Williams.

Billy Dee plays Terry Snead, a dirty cop who is transferred from San Francisco down to Mexico to help the local force fight organised crime. This doesn’t make any sense, of course, especially as he’s taking bribes from the mob before he’s even unpacked and swapping tips with his new, equally bent captain on how best to store their ill gotten gains.

Lord knows why the Mob pay him, though, as it doesn’t appear to have any benefits whatsoever. When he’s not shooting knife throwing gangsters he’s setting up sting operations or dragging in mob associates and torturing them for information. Inexplicably, though, the kickbacks keep coming. His Police colleagues know he’s on ‘the take’ but don’t seem to care either. When their one feeble attempt at incriminating him fails they seem to lose heart and let him do whatever he likes from then on. At the end, he gets promoted.

Snead is basically a massive arsehole, and although some attempt is made to tell us why (he was once a good cop but, after being unjustly accused of corruption, deliberately turned bad and stayed that way) and to show us his pain (he occasionally phones his ex who refuses to take his calls) he doesn’t elicit any sympathy from the audience, only disbelief that the two timing twister doesn’t up in a ditch with a bullet through his bouffant. His nadir as a human being is perhaps when he forces a fat man to take off his kaftan and do star jumps wearing just his pants as part of an interrogation / ritual humiliation before planting some drugs on him. He also makes Frankie Avalon cry, so he's not all bad.

With a better script, ‘The Take’ could have been an intricate, cynical tale, and nead a master manipulator, a man who can be under arrest one day and made a Captain the next, but it just doesn't happen. The direction too is lacklustre, and limited by obvious budget restrictions. Apart from the odd shot, Hartford-Davis doesn’t direct so much as simply film, and the finished product lacks tension and energy as a result.

Unabashed, Hartford-Davis took his quick and cheap methodology to the small screen, and was working on the cop show ‘Cat & Dog’ when he keeled over from a massive heart attack and died. He was 53 years old.

And with that, we’re nearly at the end of our year long Hartford-Davis odyssey. It’s been an interesting, occasionally mind numbing journey, but it’s not quite over: we haven’t done ‘Gonks Go Beat!’ yet...

Tonight at ten

2011-02-23T21:59:00.000Z

F*** me, it's Freddie!

2011-02-23T00:00:00.001Z

Man In Bell's Office, 'Accident' (1967).

Meet Pentangle: Danny

2011-02-22T00:00:00.000Z

'Haitian Fight Song'.

Meet Pentangle: John

2011-02-21T12:00:00.003Z

'Three Part Thing'.

Meet Pentangle: Jacqui

2011-02-21T00:00:00.003Z

'When I Was In My Prime'.

Meet Pentangle: Bert

2011-02-20T12:00:00.002Z

'Bells'.

Meet Pentangle: Terry

2011-02-20T00:00:00.000Z

'Wedding Dress'.

Shit that I am hopelessly addicted to

2011-02-19T18:00:00.000Z

Statues of the World 13

2011-02-19T00:00:00.001Z

Arthur 'The Fonz' Fonzarelli,
Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA.

Tonight at Ten

2011-02-18T21:59:00.001Z

Blog Spotter

2011-02-18T12:00:00.001Z

Robot Leg is a new-ish blog that covers seventies cinema.

It's rather good, but then I would say that. A mission statement of sorts can be found here.

Tonight at Ten

2011-02-17T21:59:00.001Z

Four Of The Greatest Songs Of All Time

2011-02-16T00:00:00.068Z

I grew up listening to the music of Glen Campbell and thank God for him, because my parents also really liked The Three Degrees. I must have heard these four songs literally hundreds of times in the past forty years, and I hope to go on listening to them for the next forty. Pop music is incredibly potent stuff, and this is 100% Proof.

'Galveston' may be the greatest song ever written about a coastal city. It may be the greatest song ever written full stop.

'By The Time I Get To Phoenix' is such a clever song, but it's emotional impact couldn't be more direct.

'Honey Come Back' is slightly corny, but that does not preclude it from being wonderful, even if Glen does seem a bit tired on this version, although he could just be confused by Johnny Cash's introduction.

There could be a million versions of 'Wichita Lineman' (and, one day, there probably will be), but Glen's will still be the best. He RULES.

When I make my solo album ('Wittering On', release date TBC), I will cover at least one of these songs, perhaps all four. Ear muffs at the ready.

Things that keep me awake at night

2011-02-15T04:30:00.000Z

The milk float that drives up my street at 4am, then reverses back down it at 4.15. The driver looks like Jimmy Cricket.

F*** me, it's Freddie!

2011-02-14T00:00:00.001Z

Dai, 'Children Of The Stones' (1976).

Shit that I am hopelessly addicted to

2011-02-13T22:45:00.004Z

I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high

2011-02-13T00:00:00.002Z

As heard over the closing credits of 'Gentlemen Broncos', here's Kansas' 1976 classic 'Carry On My Wayward Son'. Easy to mock, cynics forget the sheer talent that goes into making a track like this. Sure, the lyrics and sentiments may be a bit corny, but this group are superlative musicians and they ROCK, and anyone that sneers at that or, even worse, likes it ironically, is a twat. There, I've said it.

A few notes about the band and the video: 1. this track is not representative of their usual sound, which is proggier and more sprawling, 2. the hairy man mountain bashing the tambourine doesn't contribute much musically, but is endlessly watchable*, and 3. moustachioed Steve Walsh plays piano and organ, sings lead and has a bongo solo on this track - I'll bet there must have been plenty of times when he thought 'Jesus, I have to do everything around here'.

* the hairy man mountain is called Robby Steinhardt, and was the violinist in the group. No violin on this track, hence the spare part impersonation.

Gentlemen Broncos

2011-02-12T00:00:00.007Z

‘Gentlemen Broncos’ is the third feature film from the ‘Napoleon Dynamite’ co-writer and director Jared Hess.

It concerns Benjamin, a dirt poor lonely boy from a very small town in Utah. Benjamin dreams of being a sci fi / fantasy writer but, when his ideas are stolen by his literary idol, Dr. Ronald Chevalier, he falls into despair.

A low-key mix of dry deadpan comedy and the plain silly, ‘Gentlemen Broncos’ was denied a general release because of poor test audience reactions, but has had a second life on DVD and satellite TV. I won’t make any claims for it as a flawless masterpiece, but it’s one of the most enjoyable new films I’ve seen in recent years: a charming, ridiculous, cheap, nerdy pleasure.

In a brilliant touch, scenes from Benjamin’s book (‘Yeast Lords: The Bronco Years’) are presented twice, sometimes three times: as Benjamin sees them, as the fraudulent Dr. Chevalier has revised them, and through the no budget camera of the appalling Lonnie Donaho, a local ‘auteur’ who has purchased the rights to the story with a postdated cheque. Not only does this allow some fantasy counterpoint to a story that largely takes place in the mundane spaces of the rural American west, but it also lets the director parody sci fi films and low budget movies in general, including the awful melodrama that Benjamin is induced to appear in, playing a sensual stable hand.

Michael Angarona plays Benjamin with an air of desperate resignation, his hangdog face and dying puppy eyes permanently prepared for the next kick in the teeth. Sam Rockwell gives a broad but highly enjoyable performance as Benjamin’s fictional mono-orchid hero, Bronco, carrying off both wild beard and, in Chevalier’s version, white disco mullet and porn star moustache. Perhaps the best performance comes from ‘Flight Of The Conchords’ Jermaine Clement as the distinguished (but increasingly desperate) sci fi guru, Chevalier. The bad doctor, with his nasal voice, literary pretensions and Native American jewelry is a perfect comic creation, a pompous, ridiculous character, a King of the Dorks who will do anything to avoid losing his crown.

Here’s the trailer.

Shit that I am hopelessly addicted to

2011-02-11T09:45:00.000Z

Statues of the World 12

2011-02-11T00:00:00.002Z

Simon Bolivar (1783-1830),
Pereira, Colombia.

Tonight at Ten

2011-02-10T21:59:00.000Z

A Cautionary Tale

2011-02-10T00:00:00.002Z

Shit that I am hopelessly addicted to

2011-02-09T22:45:00.003Z

It's got a meaning, that I really hadn't thought of

2011-02-09T00:00:00.049Z

Young Knives are a three piece rock group from Ashby De La Zouche in rural Leicestershire. Unashamedly in the indie tradition, the group match oblique, sardonic lyrics with punchy melodies and have had several (minor) hit singles, perhaps assisted by a series of quirky and occasionally disturbing promotional videos.

The Young Knives world is a complex place, conventionally surburban and buttoned up on one hand, rural and slightly unhinged on the other, like the dark ancient woods behind the bright new housing estate (or indeed their staid, tweedy, bespectacled appearance versus their often quite angry sounding music).

Subject matter on their first full length LP ‘Of Animals & Men’ (2006) included a family meal that turns into a vicious fight, a man driven insane by malicious gossip (that could just as easily be the symptoms of schizophrenia), and a song which asserts ‘I’m the Prince of Wales’ before providing an idealised view of the horses in the New Forest. Unusual stuff, and these were the singles.

The LP was adorned with a series of great photographs of 21st Century Olde Britain: a Straw Bear on the High Street, a Morris Dancer in the Post Office, a Longbowman in his back garden. This is their homemade video for 'Another Hollow Line'. It's redolent of a nice Saturday afternoon drinking warm beer and watching strange ritual.

Their second full length LP, ‘Superabundance’ was released in 2008 and, although not as focused as their debut (which second LP is?) it is a great deal darker and less immediate. They retain the angular new wave melodies but these now carry sharp lyrics obsessed with the monotony and disapointment of modern life and love: conformity, ennui, disconnection and thoughts of suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning. The last few tracks sound like the aftermath of the nervous breakdown that the rest of the album has been documenting.

Aspects of the LP are currently being picked apart over at The Assomoir by my mate Dave. He hasn't got to the short film they made for 'Dyed In The Wool' yet, so here it is. It's a mix of am dram and odd, and large parts of it are filmed in anaglyphed 3D, so your red and green lensed cardboard glasses might come in handy.

Currently finishing off their third LP, Young Knives have hinted at an emerging R & B direction and, whether they’re taking the mickey or not (they're a sarcastic lot), I look forward to it.

Crazy Lips

2011-02-08T00:00:00.001Z

Even Jacqui McShee's crazy lips couldn't express how very much I love Pentangle.

Heard, but not seen

2011-02-07T21:00:00.002Z

AKA 'TV shows my parents used to watch that I could hear when I was in bed and supposed to be asleep'.

Following on from yesterday's 'F*** Me, It's Freddie', here's the opening sequence for set bound but occasionally hard hitting cockney private eye show 'Hazell'. I used to think 'that sounds good', although now I've seen it a more accurate description is 'not bad, not bad at all'.

F*** Me, It's Freddie!

2011-02-07T00:00:00.008Z

Dobson, 'Hazell: Hazell Settles The Accounts', 1978.

Groovy Moon

2011-02-06T15:00:00.001Z

Possibly the grooviest Hammer ever got, here's the title sequence to 'Moon Zero Two'. Music by Don Ellis, vocals by Julie Driscoll.

Hammer Time: Moon Zero Two (1969)

2011-02-06T00:30:00.001Z

That's just dolly, Dolly Dolly

2011-02-06T00:00:00.006Z

Whilst we're on the subject of 'Weird Tales For Winter', please do yourself a favour and tune into the show early on Monday morning when, at the witching hour, my hauntological BFF Dolly Dolly will be presenting an original tale entitled 'Postmen, Porpoises & Lederhosen'.

I'm expecting it to be gloriously odd, and I have been promised that it will be as erotic as it is aquatic, so it has to be worth a listen, really, doesn't it?

That's a portrait of Dave Dolly Dolly, by the way. Isn't he a sweetheart?

Listen to it here at 00:00 am. Look at that face again. How could you deny him?

Postscript: Yes, I did originally post this yesterday but Resonance changed the schedule at the last minute and played a Jonny Trunk mix instead. I like Jonny Trunk very much but may have to think again now he's indirectly made me look a right fucking idiot in front of 4 or 5 people. I've heard the tale already though, and it's a lot of fun so don't miss out. This footnote is in danger of becoming longer than the post. I'm very tired, and quite heavily medicated. I'm going to look at Dolly Dolly's face again, that'll cheer me up. That's better.

Statues of the World 11

2011-02-05T00:00:00.003Z

Jomo Kenyatta (1894-1978),
Nairobi, Kenya.

Buy It Now

2011-02-04T21:48:00.001Z

Out now, 'Music For Thomas Carnacki' is an hour's worth of radiophonic themes and atmospheres from the very talented and tremendously busy Jon Brooks.

Jon also makes great music under the name of D.D Denham and as The Advisory Circle and I can assure you that this is every bit as good.

Available as a download for an introductory price of £6.99, it's ideal for that electric pentacle party or if you're home alone and just want to shit yourself up, and it can be found here.

Much of the music can also be heard accompanying a reading of the Carnacki tale 'The Gateway of The Monster' as part of Jonny Mugwump's Weird Tales For Winter series, as originally broadcast on Resonance FM. As I said, a busy, talented man.