Sugar Man

An absolute favourite of mine has to be 70s folk-rock Detroit musician Rodriguez, who released two spectacular (critically acclaimed but commercially unsuccessful albums) Cold Fact and Coming From Reality – before slipping into obscurity - ie. regular life.

Briefly hailed as a successor to Dylan, false rumours of an untimely death abounded as he all but disappeared in the West.  In Apartheid-era South Africa, however, and completely unbeknown to him,  Rodriguez’s soulful style spread across the land, eventually selling more records than Elvis.

30 years later two fans went on a pilgrimage to uncover the real story of this mystery man.  Swedish director Malik Bendjelloul captures their journey in a film that has already won World Cinema Documentary Audience Award and a Special Jury Prize at its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival this year and is due to hit our shores for MIFF in a matter of weeks.  I cannot wait.

His fascinating story can also be heard in his own words -

"I hide my despondency well" 

- in this fascinating interview with the man himself here. 

Grey Ghost

With a residency at the Workers Club for the month of July, these guys are pretty damn good live, last night's gig was electric, tight and mad energy, especially for a Wednesday!
Checkitty check them if you can, support local talent and do something useful with the middle of your week.



Tim, again, nice work on the wardrobe and costumes in this clip, you got those skills kid.

Girl, I didn't know you could get down like that

Thanks No Lights No Lycra - last night was

 

 We are ready, we are ready for the floor.

 And dancing in the dark.

Ph Max Turner

Ph Max Turner

Haters

You cannot hate on me

‘Cuz my mind is free

Feel my destiny

So shall it be

It's a thin line between paper and hate
friends and snakes, nine millis and thirty-eights
Hell or the pearly gates

I was destined to come
Predicted, blame God, he blew breath in my lungs
Second to none

 

  

Took a little time to claim my spot
Chairman of the board until this game stop, and I side with the Lord
Ride for the cause while drivin niggas shot at my doors
Plottin I'm sure to catch me with they glocks to my jaws

 

Tried, stickin me up, but I flipped on these ducks (you tried)

Instead of me, ambulances were picking them up (that's what you get)

Niggas fear what they don't understand, hate what they can't conquer

Guess it's just the fury of man

Became a monster, on top of the world, never fallin

I'm as real as they come, from day one, forever ballin

C'mon

Super Baller

I want to be a Coppola too #3

Located in the tiny southern Italian town of Bernalda is Francis Ford Coppola's new boutique hotel (his fifth) the stunning Belle Époque styled Palazzo Margherita that also acts as family home when the notion strikes. 

Coppola's production designer Dean Tavoularis and daughter Sofia were the motivation behind the recruitment of Parisian Jacques Grange who designed the interiors, but Sofia and her brothers helped, each designing their own bedrooms.  Sofia's design below harks back to her glorious Marie Antoinette -

Working with beautiful bones, the original structure was built in 1870 so essentially a restoration project, it spanned five years in the making.

And the scent of all this gorgousness? Citrus fresh Acqua di Parma.

Take me there now please.

Read more here.

La Nouvelle Vague

My deep love affair with the French New Wave may well simply be indicative of my general adoration for film, documentaries or films of that ilk, the era and attractive French people and their impeccable style - bien sûr.  

  
Or maybe I've just grown too comfortable with ambiguous narratives thanks to the cruel real world. 

In any case, my last two weeks have been spent immersed in the world of my beloved François Roland Truffaut.

It's not just because he wagged so much school he was expelled from a bunch of them, then chose to make his academic goals to watch three films a day and read three books a week.  Nor that he made his own film club (dork - at least the one I made was an official University one...) and spent two years trying to escape the French Army he willingly joined (I'm 5 years in here) and so is just exactly like me.  C'est Vrai.  C'est claire.

No, I suspect it's because he created such spectacular, funny masterpieces ensconced in the most beautiful and absurd aspects of this ludicrous and crazy life.

He said what he thought - "Une Certaine Tendance du Cinéma Français", attacking what he saw as inferior work (JK2 I'm looking at you) and selling the auteur theory in the 60s.  His life goal was to make thirty films and then retire to write books.

touché mon fréré, touché