It was early in the morning, but he knew exactly what was happening in his chest and woke my mother to ask her to call an ambulance. Our telephone was in the living room, but before she could leave their bedroom to use it, he asked for something else. My father asked that the ambulance not use its siren.
Weeks later, when the fear of death had receded like some strange tide, my mother asked him about the siren. My father said simply that he worried it would have woken and frightened his three sleeping daughters.
Before Steve McQueen, Hollywood didn’t produce action movies in the modern sense. But if McQueen were to have hoisted the first-ever Action Movie Star Championship Belt, how many actors since would have won that thing?
Timber Timbre - Hot Dreams
This is a lovely album, one of my favourites of the year so far, and it one that rewards time you spend with it. Hot Dreams has a sleepy, film noir feel full of brooding menace - like a cross between Lee Hazlewood and David Lynch. In evoking an unsettled mind yearning for simpler times, the gothic folk feel of previous albums may have warped into abrasive, even nightmarish textures, but Timber Timbre’s characteristic magnetism remains undimmed.
"How to Criticize with Kindness:
1. You should attempt to re-express your target’s position so clearly, vividly, and fairly that your target says, “Thanks, I wish I’d thought of putting it that way.
2. You should list any points of agreement (especially if they are not matters of general or widespread agreement).
3. You should mention anything you have learned from your target.
4. Only then are you permitted to say so much as a word of rebuttal or criticism."
“One morning MJ came in with a new song he had written overnight. We called in a guitar player, and Michael sang every note of every chord to him. “here’s the first chord first note, second note, third note. Here’s the second chord first note, second note, third note”, etc., etc. We then witnessed him giving the most heartfelt and profound vocal performance, live in the control room through an SM57. He would sing us an entire string arrangement, every part.”
"Over the last few years, I’ve come not really to like goig out. I work alone, hike alone, go to the cinema alone, eat at restaurants alone. Once a year, I even holiday alone. As soon as possible, I intend to move even deeper into the countryside. The reason is people. I used to like them. Then something happened. And now I don’t."
With his gap-toothed smirk and carefree tunes, Mac DeMarco has quickly become the goofball prince of indie rock. Now he wants to be taken seriously—while still reserving the right to crack a fart joke if necessary.