Song for a Saturday: Aumgn by Can

Open up your head and give this a listen:

Advertisements

Song for a Saturday: Oh Happy Day – Aretha Franklin

Film for a Friday: Sin Takes a Holiday

I meant to get another book review done this week, but it’s been surprisingly hectic hereabouts. So here’s a little Zasu Pitts and Constance Bennett plus Basil Rathbone as a cad in Sin Takes a Holiday. Art Deco bonus points for design!

Here’s Zasu and Thelma Todd:

zasu-pitts-and-thelma-todd-laughing-in-bed

Song for a Saturday: Vaskresenje – Severija

Can’t let go of Babylon Berlin: the two-disc soundtrack is the bomb. The score is very drum and percussion heavy which you know suits me down to the ground. The songs by Bryan Ferry and the fabulous Severija, including this Russian version of Rezső Seress’ Szomorú vasárnap (Gloomy Sunday) with its alleged history (internet loves its myths) make for great decadent musings in this afternoons of this too-hot summer.

Yes, I’m aware of the irony of making ‘Gloomy Sunday’ a Song for a Saturday.

I’ve got the novel now, too. On the summer pile. Maybe I’ll take it to Edge-Lit. Always good to have something to read on the train.

Song for a Saturday: H.C. – Brix & the Extricated

Screen Shot 2018-06-23 at 10.46.23‘This is my happening and it freaks me out!’ Thank you, Vintage TV: Brix & the Extricated featuring new tune ‘H.C.’ (plus Pneumatic Violet, Valentino, L.A., Damned for Eternity, and Hollywood). Fun stuff.

Every Word is Progress

Graham Wynd author

Me yammering on all things noir and writing over at Write with Phil:

Why do you write?

‘It’s fun! There’s a Dylan line about needing a dump truck to unload his head. Writing is my dump truck.’

Review: Last Year’s Man

cover-brazill-last-years-man-300x480pxLAST YEAR’S MANPaul D. Brazill

A troubled, ageing hit man leaves London and returns to his hometown in the north east of England hoping for peace. But the ghosts of his past return to haunt him.

Last Year’s Man is a violent and blackly comic slice of Brit Grit noir. PRE-ORDER NOW! Available 06/22/2018

Praise for LAST YEAR’S MAN:

“It’s all here, everything you’ve come to expect from a Paul D. Brazill caper—the fast pace, the witty banter, the grim humour and the classic tunes—except this time he’s REALLY outdone himself. Unlike the lament in the song the title takes its name from, Paul’s best years are surely still ahead of him.” —Paul Heatley, author of Fatboy

REVIEW

I was chuffed to receive a pre-publication ARC of the latest from Mr B. Always a pleasure to read one of my favourite contemporary authors. Rest assured this is exactly the kind of mordantly witty caper you expect. From blood-soaked shenanigans to effortlessly clever banter, there’s everything you’d expect and more. The motif of the hitman haunted by his past gets a fresh angle as disgraced Tommy Bennett returns to Seatown, the northern coastal city where his past awaits him. A wild mix of musical and pop culture references come at you thick and fast. I was chortling by the end of the first page.

But under the laughter there are a few dark threads (as with all great comedy). There’s a serious undercurrent dealing with age and regrets, of finding hope — but don’t let that put you off, crime fans. There’s plenty of mayhem gone wrong, drugs and drink, plus a pale gangster named Drella (who manages to be both ruthless and hen-pecked) and a wealth of murderous mistakes. The Hancock-esque hitman Bennett (he even wears a Homburg!) seems ready to shuffle off this mortal coil just give up the life of crime, but there’s a cockroach persistence to Brazill’s characters, who have the curiosity worthy of a cat to know what will happen next.

Some great lines:

I watched dark clouds spread across the sky like a cancer.

I placed a bottle of London Pride on the grave. My wife hated flowers because of her hay fever.

‘Then the world is your oyster.’ ‘Yeah, but I’m a vegetarian,’ I said.

‘We all have our own double-cross to bear.’

I woke up when someone stabbed me.

The carriage shook like a junkie in rehab and dragged me painfully awake.

The church clock struck thirteen as I crossed the road.

Patsy, the pasty-faced barmaid…

‘Sartre got it wrong, I tell you,’ he said. ‘Hell is IKEA.’

My advice to you is pre-order this and get your London Pride in now for some summer reading. I think I might just read it again. Now where’s that audio book version?