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Spectator
30 minutes ago
- Entertainment
- Spectator
Tedious, lazy and pretentious – Irvine Welsh's Men in Love is a disgrace
There are 32 years between the publication of Irvine Welsh's Trainspotting and his Men in Love – a gap roughly equivalent to that between Sgt. Pepper and 'Windowlicker' by Aphex Twin. Perhaps three cultural generations. It is disturbing, therefore, to find Welsh still pumping out further sequels to his spectacular literary debut. But whereas that had verbal fireworks, razor-sharp dialogue, superb character ventriloquism and a fearless examination of Scottish moral rot, Men in Love is – let's be frank – tedious, lazy, pretentious and simply bad writing. Under the influence of American Psycho, Welsh has had characters narrating their fleeting perceptions since Filth (1998), in the hope that accumulation will create meaning. But where Bret Easton Ellis is satirising the vicious lizard-brain petulance of the 1 per cent, Welsh now simply takes you with the narrator on increasingly pointless journeys. The result is entire chapters that feel redundant and anti-plots that seem to build to something before ending in irritating anti-climaxes. (The Renton-Begbie confrontation in 2002's Porno was so bad that I wondered whether a refusal to climax was a meta joke.) Trainspotting vibrated with malevolent vernacular energy, but the prequels and sequels have seen Welsh lose his ventriloquial gift. This was already apparent in Porno, where Nikki's speech at the end was pure authorial intervention as she tells us What It All Meant. From Skagboys (2012) onwards, Renton, Sick Boy, Spud and even Begbie have been articulating their thoughts in increasingly florid sentences, as if Welsh were trying to impress us with his new-found vocabulary. But it doesn't impress. Of course, part of the pleasure of reading Welsh was how he combined the demotic and the cerebral. But the writing in Men in Love can be as clumsy and self-regarding as undergraduate poetry. For instance, Spud thinks that 'she should pure huv the vocabulary tae express hersel withoot recourse tae foul language'. Without recourse, aye? The once-fearsome Begbie, meanwhile: Now he was outside and it was Saturday, drifting into late afternoon, a time Begbie found replete with opportunities for violence. Potential adversaries were out, some since Friday after work. Many of those boys acquiring the delicious bold-but-sloppy combination that would service his chaotic outpourings. He found them replete, did he? He had chaotic outpourings, did he? And the sex writing – 'in languid, ethereal movements she groans in soft tones', for example – is excruciating. Another key weakness of Men in Love is how many earlier beats it replays. Sick Boy is involved with porn films and pimping; women magically fall under his spell; and he outplays a privileged male competitor (this time his father-in-law, a Home Office civil servant). Renton gets into nightclubs and DJ-ing. Spud is a romantic loser. Begbie is still psychotically aggressive. All of which we've seen in Porno, The Blade Artist and Dead Men's Trousers. The record is stuck. The heartbreaking thing is there's a good novel to be written about the punk/smack generation of the early 1980s encountering the ecstasy love-buzz period as the decade progressed. But Welsh has signally failed to tackle any of that. He could have taken them to Ibiza, the Hacienda or Spike Island, or considered the achievements and failures of the Love Generation Mk II. But no. It's another lazy retread. The impression one gets from Men in Love is that of Fat Elvis, sweating and unknowingly self-parodic in Las Vegas. Welsh desperately needs an editor with the guts to tell him this schtick isn't working any more. To quote Melody Maker on David Bowie: 'Sit down, man, you're a fucking disgrace.'
Otago Daily Times
11-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Otago Daily Times
Beach Boys founder Brian Wilson dies at 82
Beach Boys co-founder Brian Wilson, who created some of rock's most enduring songs in a career that was marked by a decades-long battle between his musical genius, drug abuse and mental health issues, has died at the age of 82. Wilson's family announced his death in a statement on the singer's website. "We are at a loss for words right now," the statement said. "We realize that we are sharing our grief with the world." The statement did not disclose a cause of death. Wilson had suffered from dementia and was unable to care for himself after his wife Melinda Wilson died in early 2024, prompting his family to put him under conservatorship. Starting in 1961, the Beach Boys put out a string of sunny hits celebrating the touchstones of California youth culture - surfing, cars and romance. But what made the songs special were the ethereal harmonies that Wilson arranged and that would become the band's lasting trademark. Wilson formed the band with younger brothers Carl and Dennis, cousin Mike Love and friend Al Jardine in their hometown, the Los Angeles suburb of Hawthorne. They went on to have 36 Top 40 hits, with Wilson writing and composing most of the early works. Songs such as "Little Deuce Coupe", "Surfin' U.S.A.", "California Girls", "Fun, Fun, Fun" and "Help Me, Rhonda" remain instantly recognisable and eminently danceable. But there were plenty of bad vibrations in Wilson's life: an abusive father, a cornucopia of drugs, a series of mental breakdowns, long periods of seclusion and depression and voices in his head that, even when he was on stage, told him he was no good. "I've lived a very, very difficult, haunted life," Wilson told the Washington Post in 2007. In May 2024, a judge ruled the 81-year-old Wilson should be put under a conservatorship after two longtime associates had petitioned the court at his family's request, saying he could not care for himself following the death of his wife, Melinda. By 1966 touring had already become an ordeal for Wilson, who suffered what would be his first mental breakdown. He remained the Beach Boys' mastermind but retreated to the studio to work, usually without his bandmates, on "Pet Sounds", a symphonic reflection on the loss of innocence. The landmark "Good Vibrations" was recorded during those sessions, though it did not make it on to the album. Though "Pet Sounds" included hits such as "Wouldn't It Be Nice", "Sloop John B" and "God Only Knows", it was not an immediate commercial success in the United States. There also was resistance to the album within the band, especially from singer Love, who wanted to stick with the proven money-making sound. "Pet Sounds", which was released in 1966, later would come to be recognized as Wilson's magnum opus. Paul McCartney said it was an influence on the Beatles' "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band". "No one's musical education is complete until they've heard 'Pet Sounds'," McCartney said. In 2012 Rolling Stone magazine ranked it second only to "Sgt. Pepper" on its list of the 500 greatest rock albums. "Hearing 'Pet Sounds' gave me the kind of feeling that raises the hairs on the back of your neck and you say, 'What is that? It's fantastic,'" George Martin, the Beatles' legendary producer, said in the liner notes of a reissued version of the album. "It's like falling in love." Released as a single that same year, "Good Vibrations" drew similar plaudits. On hearing the song, which would become the Beach Boys' greatest hit, Art Garfunkel called his musical partner Paul Simon to say: "I think I just heard the greatest, most creative record of them all." The band went on to sell 100 million records. Wilson's career would be derailed, though, as his use of LSD, cocaine and alcohol became untenable and his mental state, which would eventually be diagnosed as schizoaffective disorder with auditory hallucinations, grew shakier. He became a recluse, lying in bed for days, abandoning hygiene, growing obese and sometimes venturing out in a bathrobe and slippers. He had a sandbox installed in his dining room and put his piano there. He also heard voices and was afraid that the lyrics of one of his songs were responsible for a series of fires in Los Angeles. Born in June 1942, Brian Wilson, whose life was the subject of the 2014 movie "Love & Mercy", had two controlling men in his life. The first was his father, Murry Wilson, a part-time songwriter who recognized his son's musical talent early. He became the Beach Boys' manager and producer in their early years but also was physically and verbally abusive toward them. The band fired him in 1964. About a decade later, as Wilson floundered, his then-wife, Marilyn, hired psychotherapist Eugene Landy to help him. Landy spent 14 months with Wilson, using unusual methods such as promising him a cheeseburger if he wrote a song, before being dismissed. Landy was rehired in 1983 after Wilson went through another period of disturbing behavior that included overdosing, living in a city park and running up substantial debt. Landy used a 24-hour-a-day technique, which involved prescribing psychotropic drugs and padlocking the refrigerator, and eventually held sway over all aspects of Wilson's life, including serving as producer and co-writer of his music when he made a comeback with a 1988 solo album. Wilson's family went to court to end his relationship with Landy in 1992. Wilson said Landy had saved his life but also would later call him manipulative. California medical regulators accused Landy, who died in 2006, of improper involvement with a patient's affairs. He gave up his psychology license after admitting to unlawfully prescribing drugs. Wilson's return to music was spotty. He appeared frail, tentative and shaky and none of the post-comeback work brought anything close to the acclaim of his earlier catalog. One of the best-received albums of his second act was the 2004 "Brian Wilson Presents Smile", a revisiting of the work that had been intended as the followup to "Pet Sounds" but which was scrapped because of opposition from bandmates. Wilson's brothers had both died by the time of the Beach Boys' 50th reunion tour in 2012 but he joined Love, who became the band's controlling force, for several shows. At the end, Wilson said he felt as if he had been fired but Love denied it. Wilson last performed live in 2022. Wilson and his first wife, Marilyn, had two daughters, Carnie and Wendy, who had hits in the 1990s as part of the group Wilson Phillips. He and second wife Melinda, whom he met when she sold him a car, had five children.
New York Post
04-06-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Post
The Monkees drummer Micky Dolenz recounts the first time he met Paul McCartney
Micky Dolenz and Paul McCartney came together in the 60s. The Monkees drummer, 80, is looking back at the first time he ever met the Beatle, 82, decades ago. 'The first Beatle I met was Paul [McCartney], the night before at dinner at his house,' Dolenz told People in an interview published on Wednesday. 'I'd gone over to England to do a press junket, just myself. As it turned out, a publicist got involved and made it a 'Monkee Meets Beatle' thing at Paul's house for dinner. Just me, him and Martha the sheepdog.' 6 The Monkees, from left: Micky Dolenz, Mike Nesmith, Davy Jones and Peter Tork get a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in Los Angeles in 1989. AP From what transpired next, it seems like the fellow musicians quickly formed a friendship. 'He invited me to Abbey Road [studios] the next day,' recalled Dolenz. 'I don't even know if he told me the name at the time, but they were working on 'Sgt. Pepper.' I just about peed in my pants, but I'm trying to be cool. I got all dressed up thinking … I don't know what I was thinking.' 6 'The Monkees.' NBCUniversal via Getty Images 6 This June 4, 1967 photo shows The Monkees posing with their Emmy award at the 19th Annual Primetime Emmy Awards in Calif. AP 'I guess I thought it was gonna be some sort of Beatlemania fun-fest freakout psycho-jello happening thing,' the singer confessed. 'So I got dressed up in paisley bell bottoms and tie-dyed underwear and my glasses and beads and hair. I looked like a cross between Ronald McDonald and Charlie Manson.' But when Dolenz got to the session, things weren't what he expected. 'I walk in and, well … there's nobody there! I was like, 'Where are the girls?!'' he shared. 'It was just the four guys sitting there under fluorescent lighting, like my high school gymnasium, in the middle of the day. John Lennon looks up and says, 'Hey Monkee Man, you want to hear what we're working on?' From then on he called me Monkee Man.' Along with McCartney, the Beatles included the late John Lennon and George Harriso and Ringo Starr, 84. 6 The Beatles. Bettmann Archive Dolenz rose to fame after being cast in the 1966 television sitcom 'The Monkees' before landing the role as the drummer and lead vocalist in the band that was created for the series. The performer is the only surviving member of the group after Michael Nesmith died in 2021. Peter Tork passed in February 2019, and Davy Jones died in 2012. The show ran for two seasons from 1966 to 1968. 6 The Monkees perform live. Splash News Looking back at what he would tell his younger self when first being cast in 'The Monkees,' Dolenz told the outlet, 'Get a good lawyer. I am not kidding. I won't say much more except this: Have you heard the term 'unconscionable bargain'? How about the phrase 'pact with the devil'? Faust? You know the musical 'Damn Yankees?' I'm doing one called 'Damn Monkees!'' Now, this summer, the performer is set to tour the country and sing those Monkees classics. 6 Davy Jones, Peter Tork, Micky Dolenz, Mike Nesmith. AP 'I've tried so much different material over the years. It's all about the audience, as far as I'm concerned … You know, I'm not the kind of artist who's gone down the path of reinventing,' Dolenz said about what fans can expect. 'At least musically. We've all seen it happen with big acts. I've been to concerts for big acts who have a lot of nostalgic hit tunes and they don't do 'em. Or if they do, they do it with some contempt. Like, 'Oh, I guess you want to hear this piece of s–t.''
Sydney Morning Herald
02-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
After 60 years, even Mick Jagger can finally get some satisfaction
As rock anniversaries go, 60 years is quite the milestone. Consider what the world looked like on June 4, 1965, the day (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction was released by the Rolling Stones: humanity yet to set foot on the moon, communism ruling Eastern Europe, war escalating in Vietnam, and it would be two years until the Beatles released Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction turned the big 2-0 as then UK prime minister Margaret Thatcher stared down striking coalminers in 1985, and space shuttles orbited the planet, Uluru was handed back to traditional owners and MTV took over a generation. On its 40th anniversary, in the wake of September 11, the 'Axis of Evil', Iraq and Afghanistan, we spoke of the song on the internet (that's what we called it then) and wondered how the Rolling Stones' lead singer, Mick Jagger, could still do it. Could still do anything, really. A few years later, we shared clips – originals, live performances, tributes – using these new little phones we kept in our pockets that were 100,000 times more powerful than the computer that landed that spacecraft on the moon a generation earlier. And the world kept on changing, moving, relentlessly pushing forward: Trump, COVID, more Trump. But 60 years on – we're still singing the song and humming that riff.
The Age
02-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Age
After 60 years, even Mick Jagger can finally get some satisfaction
As rock anniversaries go, 60 years is quite the milestone. Consider what the world looked like on June 4, 1965, the day (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction was released by the Rolling Stones: humanity yet to set foot on the moon, communism ruling Eastern Europe, war escalating in Vietnam, and it would be two years until the Beatles released Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction turned the big 2-0 as then UK prime minister Margaret Thatcher stared down striking coalminers in 1985, and space shuttles orbited the planet, Uluru was handed back to traditional owners and MTV took over a generation. On its 40th anniversary, in the wake of September 11, the 'Axis of Evil', Iraq and Afghanistan, we spoke of the song on the internet (that's what we called it then) and wondered how the Rolling Stones' lead singer, Mick Jagger, could still do it. Could still do anything, really. A few years later, we shared clips – originals, live performances, tributes – using these new little phones we kept in our pockets that were 100,000 times more powerful than the computer that landed that spacecraft on the moon a generation earlier. And the world kept on changing, moving, relentlessly pushing forward: Trump, COVID, more Trump. But 60 years on – we're still singing the song and humming that riff.
