Richard Gardner

One of my favourite Door’s albums (along with the other five), Waiting For the Sun managed to overcome “third album syndrome” with a burst of creative maturity that cemented the band’s status as one of the most successful experimental bands of the sixties (or any other decade). It sparkles with energy, reveals some of their tenderest work and presented them both with their only number one album, and first chart topping single (Hello, I Love You).

Many bands suffer with their third album: they are normally signed with enough material for two albums, and then have to write fresh songs whilst touring and in the studio. Here, though, The Doors come across as confident and exuberant as ever. Morrison’s voice still has a warm, summery chime (precipitating the later-grizzled, whisky-house laments of LA Woman) but he now commands his lyrics far more majestically, a subtle shift in development away from the uncontrolled passions of his youth. The creative output is as strong as ever, and, whilst still scouring the darker sides of Morrison’s poetical consciousness, the band manage to retain the breezy summer-rock feel that distinguishes them from some of their more indulgent contemporaries.

The album was supposed to draw out with another dark epic (based on the poem, Celebration of the Lizard, of which, on this special edition, a 17-minute demo is included), though only the musical centrepiece of this (the pulsating, and harrowing, Not To Touch the Earth) was deemed fit for release. Other dark matters include: The Unknown Solider (a powerful anti-Vietnam statement, that manages to persuade through a combination of fragile subtlety and brute force) and Spanish Caravan (a stormy and subversive demonstration of Robby Keriger’s flamenco roots). To counter these shadows, Love Street (a whimsical serenade for Morrison’s lover Pamela Courson), and Wintertime Love (simply a heart-warming love song in the vein of Wishful Sinful), give us two of The Door’s most beautiful works. Hello I Love You, the albums opener, is a vibrant pop-song that was written much earlier than the rest of the material here, and it does show. The other four tracks are fun and functional (Summers Almost Gone and We Could Be So Good Together), or quirky and poetical (My Wild Love and The River Knows) little curiosities that punctuate the summery storms.

You can’t really go wrong with Waiting For the Sun, it gives you a full-blooded taste of The Doors performing in their prime and is as unique and impassioned as any of their work. It’s charming and challenging in equal measure, but always manages to raise your goosebumps and is one of my favourite “I need to sit down” albums…

Buy it on amazon.co.uk
Waiting for the Sun: Remastered & Expanded

Vanessa Paradis, Bruno Cremer

88 Minutes.

Noce Blanche is the story of a relationship between a teacher and one of his students. I first watched this about five years ago, and it is still one of my favourite films. I suspect, like most men, I bought this more due to the appeal of seeing a (then 18 years old) Vanessa Paradis flaunting around in her birthday suit than with a view to any greater understanding of foreign cinema. Ahem. Well, I’m pleased to say that the film doesn’t disappoint in this respect. The nudity is fairly subtle, though, and of an artistic, realistic, form; if you’re expecting a fantasy film you may be a little disappointed. The love scenes, also, are virtually none existent, but don’t let this spoil your enjoyment: this is a top quality film and well worth buying.

I was surprised to discover a mature and realistic drama. This is well written, and perfectly captures both the teenage and middle aged vulnerabilities and torments that ravage us all. All that pining: Oh to be mature and sophisticated; oh to be young again. This is excellent; sweet at times, sour at others, never anything less than realistic and unforgiving. The acting is exemplary (Paradis won a César award). The characters are well developed, confidently acted and mature (it has to be said, once again: it seems foreign cinema is the place to rediscover what it is like to be an adult — watch and compare this to some of the OTT childish dross masquerading as adult drama on TV nowadays). The cinematography and locations are also beautifully filmed, and the story is paced well, drawing you into the plot and leaving you… Well, I won’t give the game away but the ending is powerful and sadly believable.

All in all, I can’t recommend this enough. This is a film that will both stay with you, and find a place amongst your favourite DVD’s. If it opens the door to a more mature and sophisticated taste in entertainment, also, it can’t be too bad, can it?

Two strangers meet on a train, one bearing a grudge against his father, the other against his wife. One suggests the perfect murder: they each kill the other’s nemesis and the police would never even know that they’d met.

Strangers on a Train is the intense debut novel from psychological crime genius Patricia Highsmith (The Talented Mr. Ripley). It focuses on a game of cat and mouse between the respectable architect, Guy Haines, and his stalker, the psychopath, Charles Bruno, whom he meets on the train of the title.

The story is a dark and brooding Hitchcockian nightmare (Hitchcock, somewhat unsurprisingly, went on to direct the film version), which unravels in painstaking (and often disturbing) detail. You can picture the scenes vividly — the creepy meeting on the train, alcoholism, paranoia in suburbia, and a trip to the a small town fifties fairground that will linger long though you’ll wish it didn’t.

Considering this was written sixty years ago, the book is still relevant and shocking. It’s a sophisticated noirish dissection of madness, of an alcoholic psychopath stalking (and taking over) an innocent man’s life, of how easily one’s life can fall apart because of someone crazy. Highsmith (in a similar — though more subtle — manner to Bret Easten Ellis), manages to access your darkest paranoias and leave you feeling both hooked and chilled to the bone. Top stuff!

A volatile Islamic critic, with links to Israeli Intelligence, is assassinated by extremists in Amsterdam. Whilst trying to cover their tracks, the secret service uncovers a larger terrorist act to be carried out imminently in London.

This is the first novel I’ve read by Daniel Silva, and I was impressed. The story is easy to read, yet realistic and complex enough to cut it above your average spy thriller. After reading The Secret Servant, I discovered that Silva worked as the Middle East correspondent for the UPI. I am not surprised. The story follows an Islamic terrorist kidnapping of the US Ambassadors daughter in London (a scintillating–though frightfully realistic–event), and the involvement of the Israeli secret service (in particular their star assassin Gabriel Allon) to rescue her. Though this thrilling game of cat and mouse is always at the heart of the story, and keeps you scrambling through the pages, there is much more going on (politics, social commentary, current world affairs), and you are left with a well written, multi faceted novel that both leaves your grey matter satisfied and doesn’t take effort to read.

The Secret Servant doesn’t really champion any political cause, choosing, wisely, to give a realistic (and at times futile) account of world affairs, that leaves you wondering what the future will hold. True, at times, it does give a fairly bleak account of modern Islam and the targets (the baddies) are always the Jihadists–almost no sympathy is given to them–but Silva also paints an equally depressing picture of the causes for Islamic terror (mainly, in this novel, the Mubarak regime in Egypt), whilst a sagely Islamic character (father of one of the terrorist ringleaders), offers a more compassionate view of moderate Muslims, and how they are as much a victim of and sickened by terrorism as anyone. This isn’t an all out early-24-like ‘crusade’ against Islam, rather a realistic and sobering dissection of conflict in the Middle East, and how it is now effecting modern day Western Europe.

Allon is a memorising central character: a dignified, intelligent and (refreshingly) mature assassin, who (whilst proving he is as unmerciful and brutal as his targets) is frequently seen to be vulnerable to the high emotional demands of his job. He not really a James Bond or Jack Bauer, but simply a man doing his job and falling somewhere between them and reality. The supporting characters and enemies are all well realised and carefully written–I particularly liked his chain smoking 70-something boss, Ari Shamron. The writing is lucid and the combination of a well written dramatic storyline and Silva’s working knowledge of the area (which he imbues into his writing with ease) leaves you feeling as though you are involved with a constantly breaking news story, rather than just reading a generic spy novel. I’d recommend this to anyone with an interest in world affairs, or just if you’re looking to read something with a bit more bite than your average thriller. I’ll certainly be reading more of Silva’s work.