You Have Been Watching...The Angels' Share

Before reviewing Ken Loach's The Angels' Share I have to mention the marketing of the film, with one poster quote particularly problematic. JohnNaughton, reviewing it for GQ magazine, declared it "Scotland's answer to The Full Monty", and the producers immediately stuck that on the posters. They may believe this will draw a larger audience than would usually go to a Loach movie, and they may be right, but it nearly put me off.

Not that The Full Monty isn't an enjoyable film. I watched it again recently and it's a proper heart warmer with strong performances, but it suffers as much as any film from the fact that the name has become shorthand for a certain kind of 'winning against the odds' movie. Its success spawned a rash of imitators, most of which were terrible; films such as Blackball and the Craig Ferguson fronted The Big Tease. For many film fans such a recommendation will cause alarm bells to ring. Luckily for Loach, he is likely to always be given the benefit of the doubt. He deserves it.

Better comparisons would be with Bill Forsyth's That Sinking Feeling, Michael Hoffman's Restless Natives or even Whisky Galore. As with those earlier films, Loach manages to make an audience sympathise with lead characters who break the law.  However, The Angels' Share doesn't share their consistency of tone, and indeed that of the director's own My Name is Joe, Riff Raff and Raining Stones, all of which marry black comedy and social commentary with greater success. Of course there's always going to be light and shade in any Ken Loach movie, but in this case they often jar rather than work together. My favourite of his films remains Kes, where moments of real comedy sat easily with the brutal social landscape and pathos of Barry Hines' source novel. This is the high standard set, and The Angels' Share falls short.

Perhaps this is down to the script of long time Loach collaborator, writer Paul Laverty. Other projects the two have worked on include some of best British films ever made, such as Carla's Song, the aforementioned My Name is Joe and Sweet Sixteen, but recently they haven't come near those dizzy heights. Looking for Eric was, like The Angels' Share, only a partial success, and the less said about Ae Fond Kiss the better. Don't misunderstand; The Angels' Share is an enjoyable, and often thought provoking, hour and a half that will be superior to most of the films you'll see this summer, it's just that those who love Loach want to see his best work. It's his own fault for being great.

The story centres on four young offenders who end up doing what is now called 'community payback', painting the walls of a run down hall. Bonding together over a new found love of whisky, and the need for money, they devise an ingenious plan to mix the two. As with many Loach/Laverty plots it is based upon giving people second, and sometimes third, chances. They believe in fundamental human decency and the possibility of redemption for all, and focus attention on the unfairness and inequality in society, but they have expressed these beliefs previously with a lighter touch than this. When he moves the action out of the city Loach relies a little too much on the stereotypes of kilts, Irn Bru, Highland cows and a soundtrack of the Proclaimers, all of which are a reflection of the lack of subtlety in the storytelling.

The lead character is soon to be new father Robbie, played by first time actor Paul Brannigan, and he does a fair job while never having the on screen charisma of previous Loach leads such as Robert Carlyle, Martin Compston or David Bradley. His life at the point we meet him has been one of violence and survival, and, although he tries hard to win our affections, it is difficult to forget or forgive Robbie's previous crimes, especially a brutal assault which is chillingly recollected. In our recent podcast on Scottish TV, Colin McCredie spoke of his being uncomfortable that Loach continues to use non-actors in his films when there is less work than ever for those who are trained. This was admittedly before he had seen the film and I'd like to know what he feels about Brannigan's performance. You may disagree with Colin, but before you do you should have a listen to his argument in full, which you can do by listening to Scots Whay Hae! Podcast 17.

There are plenty of Loach regulars in place, and faces you'll recognise from Scottish stage and screen (as well as a non-speaking role for former Rangers' and Dundee United player Charlie Miller, and a cameo for Ted who drinks in a few of my local boozers!). Standout is John Henshaw as the support worker who introduces Robbie and his fellow community servers to the delights of malt whisky, and who takes the troubled Robbie under his wing. There is a bond between the two that is heart warming and believable, and which is one of the film's highlights. Also present are Roger Allam, Jimmy Chisolm, Paul Birchard and Nick Farr, all of who will be faces where you'll go "where do I know him from?".

But the film lives and dies on the young leads, and, Brannigan aside, there are good turns from Jasmin Riggins, William Ruane and, as the comedy fall guy Albert, Gary Maitland. The four work well together, and we root for them as the moment of truth approaches. In fact you could say that this is a film of two halves; 45 minutes of social realism vs 45 minutes of broad comedy. The first contains shocks, and the second has genuine laughs, but the fact that I can describe it so is perhaps the best indicator as to the film's inconsistencies. Here's the trailer:



What should never be underestimated is the legacy that Ken Loach has left to Scottish film. You could argue that he has mainly focused on the darker corners of Glasgow, or Greenock in the case of Sweet Sixteen, (with the exception of the underwhelming Ae Fond Kiss), but he has always brought a humanity and dignity to a part of Scotland where such representations certainly used to be few and far between. In the scheme of such a career my complaints against The Angels' Share are mere quibbles, and as ever I look forward to what Loach does next. I for one will miss him when packs his camera away.

Ewan, Me and You: It's Scots Whay Hae! Podcast Number 19...

The latest podcast had writer, director, and man of the moment Ewan Morrison climbing the stairs to Scots Whay Hae! Towers; and what a night it was.

Ali ripped up his usual carefully researched notes as Ewan starts by talking about his latest book, the brilliant Tales From The Mall, but soon the conversation turns to the future of the novel, the myths of social networks, the problems with 'free',  the working methods of Steve Albini, and the stigma of being a labelled a 'thinker'. And, if you listen closely, you'll also catch the end of their Mark Cousins impression competition.

You may already know Ewan from his novels Swung, Distance and Menage, but his current concerns find him out of the bedroom and into the wide world. Anyone interested in the state of modern culture and society will find plenty to interest them in the two's conversation. You may not agree with everything that Ewan says, in fact he doesn't expect you to. He likes nothing better than to spark debate, to get people thinking about how they live, how they consume, and just who the hell they think they are.

Once you've read Tales From the Mall (and I urge you to do so) and/or listened to this podcast, I hope you'll find yourself asking questions that have never concerned you previously.  That's what the man does so well. He asks us to stop taking things for granted and ask who, why, and what the fuck? But it's not all serious and cynical, as you can see from the picture above. Ewan Morrison is Scotland's cultural provocateur du jour, and that makes him an excellent man to have around. But don't take our word for it.

You can learn more about Mr Morrison by going to his own website ewanmorrison.com, or by watching his interesting collection of clips, both his own and other peoples, at his YouTube page. To give you a taste of Tales From the Mall, here's just one of his mall 'tales', followed by one of the factual pieces in the book:





As ever, you can subscribe to  Scots Whay Hae! at iTunes or by RSS. The next edition will be next month, and if all goes according to plan it should be another belter. If this is your first visit you can click on the video in the sidebar to hear and see some of those who have joined Ali and Ian over the last year. Or you could go wild and just download the back catalogue. Go-on...you know you want to.

Pass the Port: A Review of Alan Warner's The Deadman's Pedal...

It's pleasingly perverse that at a time when the predictions for the future of book publishing and selling are at their bleakest, 2012 is turning out to be one of those years that will remain long in the memory for Scottish writing. Iain Banks, Irvine Welsh and Ewan Morrison have all published books which if they are not their best ever, then they are very close to it. Jackie Kay's Reality, Reality is a collection of short stories where the prose is as poetic as it gets, and I have only heard great things about Louise Welsh's The Girl on the Stairs which comes out in August. Add to those a particularly strong short list for this year's Scottish Book of the Year, and the publication of some vibrant first novels, and you have to say that if that sound is the clanging chimes of doom then writers are taking little notice. 

Alan Warner's The Deadman's Pedal not only continues this run of great books, it underlines my original point with a vengeance. He has been one of my favourite writers since his debut novel Morvern Callar, but there has always been inconsistency in the quality of his work, often within the same book. There have been moments of genius, but also times when he seemed to lose focus, or perhaps try too hard to push boundaries. I love his second novel These Demented Lands but can understand those readers who find it overly obtuse and experimental. His third novel The Sopranos is arguably superior to Morvern Callar, but there are still problematic scenes where Warner seems to move from writer to voyeur, and The Man Who Walks is a novel without an end (although I'm willing to admit that may be the point).

2010's The Stars in the Bright Sky was superb, but I couldn't shake the feeling that returning to characters from The Sopranos carried with it a sense of obligation (similar to when Irvine Welsh revisited Trainspotting with the vastly inferior Porno). The Deadman's Pedal takes Warner's writing to another level altogether. This is an epic yet personal novel about Scotland, one which in other writer's hands could have been terribly worthy and polemic, but Warner always puts character first. It is simply a joy from beginning to end and is the moment he moves from good to great.

Set mostly in the early 1970s, The Deadman's Pedal is the story of Simon Crimmons, a young man who is first generation middle-class. His Second World War veteran father's haulage business has been built from one lorry to a fleet, one which is set to take advantage of the decline of the railways, and this has allowed Simon a very comfortable upbringing. Leaving school early, against his parents wishes, he then adds to his father's ire by taking a job with the very railway that Crimmons Snr has vowed to vanquish. Through the coming of age of his central character Warner manages to say more about a time and place than any straight reading of history could manage.

The setting is pinpoint accurate, avoiding the cliched Seventies references in favour of fine detail. Fashion, food and film are selected and described with precision which date the years specifically. The records talked about avoid the obvious in favour of the more obscure, such as Pink Floyd's A Saucerful of Secrets instead of Dark Side of the Moon, or Hendrix's posthumous War Heroes. This shouldn't surprise regular readers as from the first few pages of Morvern Callar it was clear that this was a man immersed in music, and who knows what is good and what doesn't cut it.

As is always the case with Warner, this is a very sensual book, and you can smell the musk of Alex Bultitude's damp Afghan coat and feel the electric shocks built up in the synthetic materials that Varie Bultitude wears. It should also be noted that by setting the novel once more in and around the Port, a thinly disguised Oban which features in many of his previous novels, he has single handedly turned it into one of the great landscapes in modern Scottish fiction.

The aristocratic Bultitudes go straight into the pantheon of unconventional families of Scottish literature. They boast centuries of history, with all that it entails, and live in a baronial home where deceased family members are buried in glass fronted graves. They are wonderfully eccentric and quite believable, a family with secrets to rival those of Iain Banks' McHoans from The Crow Road. In fact there are similarities with that novel, except instead of focusing on the story of the wealthy family as Banks does, this is the story of the boy from town who makes their acquaintance. Simon is enraptured by the enigmatic and bohemian Varie Bultitude from the moment he sees her, and so are we. She replaces his first love Nikki in his affections with an unbecoming ease that reminds us of that time in life when such decisions are made with out too much consideration for right or wrong.

Warner effortlessly essays a hugely influential period in Scotland's social and political history, one where the writing was on the wall for nationalised industries and when private companies were beginning to take over. The novel may predate Thatcherism by five or six years, but with hindsight it is clear how the latter part of the twentieth century was going to play out politically, both nationally and globally, no matter how strongly some of us would have wished it otherwise. Such inevitability is one of the most depressing aspects of history. 

The prose is just beautiful at times. The scene where Simon's train runs into a landslide which has brought a graveyard down with it is incredible, and it reminded me of why I love These Demented Lands so much in that it verges on the surreal. Similarly, Simon's father's tragic retelling of the drowning of comrades after the war was won in their own armoured vehicle is one which will stay with me. Warner manages to convey the confusion felt by his characters in certain situations, while never losing the reader. You have to do a bit of work, but it always pays off. Such detail also goes into the smaller moments which can be just as dramatic. The scene where Simon carries Nikki's older sister Karen across muddy land captures a teenage boy's lust, fear and confusion perfectly. You know this will be a moment that will live with him for the rest of his life.

Warner gives all the characters his close attention; from the seen it all barmaid who is the object of Alex Bultitude's affections, to the lecherous Tory Willie Coutts. He is never afraid to make his characters do the unexpected, such as when Simon's father fights with a possible employee who he feels has disrespected him. Such actions never seem out of character, they are flashes of a person's make up that they try to keep suppressed. This has always been Warner's strength, to make every one who lives between the pages individual. There are not many writers who could take a room full of railway men, all of them arguing the toss, and make every one unique.

It's rare that when I finish a book I'm aware of having a huge smile on my face; I can think of it happening before only a couple of times, but that's exactly what I had as I closed the cover of The Deadman's Pedal. Warner has banished those niggling questions which I had about his previous novels to write one which is near faultless. I doubt I'll read a better book all year, and I doubt you will either.

Lost In music... Arran Arctic on Linda Perhacs' Parallelograms

Last month saw the first post in a new regular column called Lost in Music. It is about those albums that have been forgotten about, or were never well known, but which have remained on someone's playlist never the less. I wanted to know what they are and the story behind why an individual loves them. I kicked things off with One Dove's Morning White Dove and I asked for anyone else's examples that we could publish on Scots Whay Hae!

Taking me up on the offer, Arran Arctic, who you may have heard talking and playing on podcast 17, has taken up my offer to write about and recommend Linda Perhacs' 1970 album Parallelograms, and I thank him for doing so. He is a gentleman who is always welcome round our way, and one with impeccable taste as Parallelograms is an astonishing recording. I've just finished listening to it while reading the latest Alan Warner novel The Deadman's Pedal (which is set in the early 1970s) and the two work perfectly together.

If you are asking how such an article fits this website then you haven't grasped what Scots Whay Hae! is about. Ultimately we want to make people's lives better and more exciting by informing them of what is out there, and also why. Arran is one of the most interesting and experimental musicians in Scotland today, and any insight into what inspires him is always going to be worth reading about and listening to. Or to put it another way; ma house, ma rules.

                                                                                                                        Ali.

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The year is 1970, and by day, Linda Perhacs is a dental hygienist in Los Angeles, California. By night, however, Miss Perhacs and producer Leonard Rosenman are recording what will become one of the most sought after cult albums of the 20th century.

'Parallelograms' was mastered badly, barely promoted and released to little fanfare by the ill-fated Kapp Records (absorbed by MCA Records 2 years later). The LP was soon forgotten, and remains Perhacs's only release to date.

Cross-dissolve to 2003 and original vinyl copies of 'Parallelograms' are selling for $200-$400. Spurred on by the word-of-mouth murmur, folk label Wild Places spend 2 years tracking the illusive Perhacs down before finally re-releasing her album in 2005. And the world went wild... sort of.

The 2005 re-issue was sourced from Perhacs's personal collection of master recordings, and finally did the record justice. 'Parallelograms' is very much a folk record. What got people talking was Perhac's weightless mezzo-soprano, backed by gently plucked guitars and deeply resounding flourishes of percussion. The album gives us so much more than that though.

There's folk rock on 'Porcelain Baked-Over Cast-Iron Wedding', Appalachian bluegrass on 'Paper Mountain Man' and psychedelic breakdowns on the title track. The overall sound is never less than beautiful, featuring occasional wisps of electronically treated xylophone and flute the boys as Ghost Box would sell their mothers to sample.

Another re-issue in 2008 by Sunbeam Records saw Perhacs step briefly back into public view but recline once again just as quickly. She's not a social butterfly it would seem. But who cares when the one thing she's given us is so close to being flawless. Many musicians work for decades before coming close to crystalising their sound, but Linda Perhacs did it right off the bat.

'Parallelograms' is like no other record I've heard and is well worth seeking out. Especially since it's a damn sight easier to get ahold of a copy now!

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If you don't just want to hear me crack on about my old record collection then please send me your stories about lost albums that mean the world to you, but for some reason not to the world. You can email them to me at scotswhayhae@gmail.com and then we all get to have cooler collections of music than anyone else.                                                                          

Watching with the Detective: It's the Return of the Scots Whay Hae! Podcast...

After a brief break to gather our thoughts and set up new guests, the Scots Whay Hae! podcast returns. Number 18 sees Ali talking to TV’s Colin McCredie about the best from Scottish Telly past. It’s a big subject to cover, but we manage to touch on programmes from the 1960s to the present day. I’m sure we missed many people’s favourites, but hopefully there’s enough of interest to please everyone from casual watchers to telly addicts

Colin knows more about Scottish TV than anyone else we know, and gives personal insights about matters on screen and behind the scenes of the programmes he has worked on, as well as those he has watched. Unfortunately for you most of the libellous stuff stayed in the pub, but I'm sure you'll learn something new about the history of Scotland on the box and your favourite shows. At an hour and a half it's a bumper edition, but then we have been away on our hols.

As a sample of Colin's work here's Two and a Half Minutes, a short film he made for  Silly Wee Films:



All the podcasts can be found and subscribed to on iTunes or by RSS. If you haven't listened before you'll find interviews with the likes of Alan Bissett, Louise Welsh, Doug Johnstone, Kapka Kassabova and Rodge Glass. There is music and chat from Arran Arctic, a peek behind the scenes of this year's Margins festival, experts talking about  Burns, discussion about the state of Scottish publishing as well as our various attempts to list the very best in Scottish music, film and books. In the future we will be bringing you more interviews with those who matter in Scottish culture, as well as discussions on poetry, comedy, sport and so much more. If you have anyone you'd perhaps like to hear on a podcast, or a topic we should cover, then all suggestions are welcome, and we can but ask.

The podcast will be coming to you once a month from now on. We tried it once a fortnight but have decided that was quickening the premature greying of Ali's beard, something he can ill afford. What we intend is to up the quality to leave no one disappointed. In the meantime here's a wee video that resident technical guru and man of mystery Ian has put together as a taster as to what we do. Tell your friends:

May Daze: The Month's Musical Roundup...

As a new month begins I always think I'm going to struggle to fill this monthly roundup with music that I really want to listen to more than once and can honestly recommend, then by the third week I realise a cruel cull is required just to keep things manageable. There's a lot of good music being made and May was no exception as a late flurry of impressive tunes entered the Scots Whay Hae! mailbox to make the final cut.

Add those to those new releases from favourite bands and I fear this is going to be another bumper selection, although I'm never quite sure until the end. Let's begin.

First off are French Wives who have released some great singles and EPs over the years. May saw the release of their long awaited debut album Dream of the Inbetween and it continues the good work. They make the sort of guitar based music that music journos used to label 'angular' and 'spiky'. They could definitely do you a mischief. From the album this is Numbers:



Maple Leaves are a band who have a wonderful way with a melody and a confidence in their music which belies their small recorded output, and in singer Anna Miles they have simply one of the best voices around. Their 2010 EP Golden Ether was one of my favourite releases of that year, and it has seemed an age waiting for the follow up. It has now arrived in the shape of the EP Robots, from which this is the title track:



After that fairly gentle start, next is a magnificent slab of noise which shuffles towards the heavier end of shoegazing. The band are Sonic Heart Foundation and I'm reminded of Curve, Bauhaus, My Bloody Valentine...actually, using a very specific reference, this track is like The Jesus and Mary Chain covering The Sisters of Mercy.  This is The Storm:



Some of the most evocative and beautiful  music is placed under that much derided label of folk. It's an attitude which I've never understood. We're all folk. Those who dismiss the music are only harming themselves as they are missing out on the work of James Yorkston, Alasdair Roberts, Meursault, Luke Joyce (I Build Collapsible Mountains) and so much more. This month the singer/songwriter Gary Stewart was brought to my attention and this is his EP Year And A Day. I think it's rather gorgeous:

Year And A Day E.P by garystewart

Next is a piece of melodic guitar pop that reminds me of lots of records which I have sitting on my shelves, the sort of sound that Scots bands seem to excel at. It could have been made at any time over the last few decades, which in this case is a good thing. From their debut EP Misery Lake, out today! (1st June),this is Yesterday by The Seven Deadly Sins:



Capitals release All These Years, their second single in as many months (you can hear the first by going to mad-march-hae). It's more lovely electronic pop music that is perfect for the recent weather. The B-side (you know what I mean) Ode To An End is a more melancholy track which is unexpected and which suggests that they are going to make a great album someday. Working as fast as they seem to I hope to hear it soon. Here are both songs:

All These Years Single. by Capitals

Stupidly, I kind of dismissed Human Don't Be Angry after seeing them play live at this year's Margins Festival.  Although I enjoyed the set, I didn't think it was anything special and thought that I'd heard similar music done better by the likes of Explosions in the Sky and Mogwai. I was persuaded to give the album another chance, and thank god I did (cheers Rodge) as it has been played here, there and everywhere over the last month. To be fair, what didn't come across in that Arches gig was the influence of the electronic music of the late 70s/early 80s. There's some Tubeway Army, pre-Dare Human League and the electronic drum sound that typified much of that music. But dinna fash Middleton fans, there's still the melancholy, guitar and reflective lyrics that you have come to know and love. As if to make my point about the importance of the 80s, this is the single 1985:



The other albums that you should consider which were released in May are Old Jack's Windowless Playhouse from Mummy Short Arms, Mid Air by Paul Buchanan and Tree Bursts in Snow by Admiral Fallow. I've written about the first two a lot over the last few months so I won't labour the point except to say they're both excellent, but I have to post the video for Admiral Fallow's Tree Bursts as it's an absolute corker:



That's a lot of music, but there was more good stuff that didn't quite make it, something which is always a good sign. Now, what's next?