Reviews

Röyksopp

Jason Ladewig
Röyksopp

Röyksopp

City: New York
Venue: Irving Plaza
Date: 2003-03-17
We get a lot of good shows here in New York City, but this is not without a downside. Just to get into the venue, a bouncer took a peek in my bag and another patted me up and down and metal-detected anyplace I could hide a firearm (I presume). In these dangerous times, it proves hard to sneak in a flask into an event such as a Röyksopp show. I wouldn't mention it, but drinks starting at $6 that come in plastic cups just put me in a bad mood. At least at fancy ultra-hip NYC bars you get to drink from real glasses for the same price. And you can usually sit down. At any rate, I was then forced to check my bag for another $1.50 plus tip. I got my drinking bracelet and traversed up to the main floor. At the top I was greeted by $25/$20 Röyksopp T-shirts for sale. I passed. Those shirts were dope and all, but if was going to treat myself to a few drinks I had to prioritize. I purchased a $6 can of Rolling Rock (plus $1 tip) and found a good spot to escape from my financial woes. For about two hours an unknown DJ unleashed a barrage of dance cuts, mostly of the handbag variety (for those not familiar with this term, picture a bougie girl setting her handbag down for a moment for a quick, not quite party girl, dance). I got bored really quick and just sat back against a wall and started to feel a little sleepy. Apart from the few head bobs, no one really even seemed aware that there was dance music playing over the PA. Even as they stood on what I would call for practical purposes a dance floor, there was no dancing. The DJ strayed from the handbag and put on some Hendrix, to a few cheers, but still no dancing. What was going on here? Röyksopp make dance music, right? Wouldn't Röyksopp fans be into, uh . . . dancing? Even when the DJ put on a track by the much lauded Metro Area, no dice. I got the feeling that no matter who was DJing no one would be dancing. I guess everyone was just waiting to see the people who play that "Poor Leno" song. Strange. On a dark stage a sample of women singing started playing and the two Röyksopp dudes, Svein Berge and Torbjorn Brundtland came out waving. The two had play stations, one consisting of a computer/sequencer, vocoder, mixer and a rack of multiple keyboards, the other of drum pads, a real crash cymbal, and another keyboard. The first song they played was "So Easy". The crowd cheered, but still no body movement beyond head bobs and a few brief hands in the air. The majority of the set was played with one of the guys beating the drum pads and the other playing multiple keyboards, all to pre-sequenced tracks. They brought out a bassist for a few songs, but this added no great effect. Playing bass along to a pre-sequenced bassline just didn't work with the venue's sound system. Please don't get me wrong, I'm all for playing real-time instruments with a pre-sequenced track, but in the end it should all come together and sound good. Their instrumental hit "Eple" sounded a bit muddy, reminding me that I have heard it sound better in a dance club context, played by a DJ. They encored with their hit "Poor Leno", a song that fellow Norwegian, Kings of Convenience/solo artist Erlend Oye sings on the Röyksopp full length Melody A.M. Without Oye present, they made do with Svein Berge singing the song through a vocoder. This is the song everyone was waiting for. The intro was greeted with cheers, a few more hands in the air and nothing I would really call dancing. Sure, there was the lone rave dude dancing in the corner, and probably a few more of the same I couldn't see, but that was it. I imagine their shows in Europe and the UK to be a different scene -- a dancing scene to be exact. Here in the States I would imagine the typical Röyksopp fan is more likely to purchase a Volkswagen than boogie down.

From genre-busting electronic music to new highs in the ever-evolving R&B scene, from hip-hop and Americana to rock and pop, 2017's music scenes bestowed an embarrassment of riches upon us.


60. White Hills - Stop Mute Defeat (Thrill Jockey)

White Hills epic '80s callback Stop Mute Defeat is a determined march against encroaching imperial darkness; their eyes boring into the shadows for danger but they're aware that blinding lights can kill and distort truth. From "Overlord's" dark stomp casting nets for totalitarian warnings to "Attack Mode", which roars in with the tribal certainty that we can survive the madness if we keep our wits, the record is a true and timely win for Dave W. and Ego Sensation. Martin Bisi and the poster band's mysterious but relevant cool make a great team and deliver one of their least psych yet most mind destroying records to date. Much like the first time you heard Joy Division or early Pigface, for example, you'll experience being startled at first before becoming addicted to the band's unique microcosm of dystopia that is simultaneously corrupting and seducing your ears. - Morgan Y. Evans

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​'The Ferryman': Ephemeral Ideas, Eternal Tragedies

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9

If The Prince of Nothingwood will popularly be remembered for celebrating the creative spirit of its star Salim Shaheen, it is equally an important communication on Afghanistan, it's culture and its people.

"Now I am just more tired and poor. So no, I haven't changed. I'm just older and more tired," says French radio journalist and documentarian Sonia Kronlund, as she looks back on the experience of making The Prince of Nothingwood (2017).

Joining Salim Shaheen, the most popular and prolific actor-director-producer in Afghanistan on his 111th no budget feature, Kronlund documents the week-long shoot and the events surrounding it. She crafts an insight into a larger than life persona, yet amidst the comedy and theatricality of Shaheen and his troupe of collaborators, she uncovers the heavier tones of the everyday reality of war and patriarchal oppression. If The Prince of Nothingwood will popularly be remembered for celebrating the creative spirit of its star, it is equally an important communication on Afghanistan, it's culture and its people. Alongside the awareness of the country cultivated by mainstream media news outlets, Kronlund's film offers an insight into a country that can humanise the prejudice and xenophobic tendencies of a western perspective towards Afghanistan.

In October of this year at the UK premiere at the BFI London Film Festival, Kronlund spoke with PopMatters about being driven by questions rather than inspiration. She also reflected on the subjective nature of documentary filmmaking, the necessary artistic compromises of filming in Afghanistan, and feeling a satisfaction with imperfections.

Why filmmaking as a means of expression? Was there an inspirational or defining moment?

Not really, no. I have always done documentary. I used to write scripts and TV series but I only make documentaries myself for radio and television. For this story, I figured out after a while that it deserved a bigger ambition and a bigger screen and that's why I don't very much believe in inspiration. To be honest, I made this film because I had to do something. I didn't have a big project where I thought: I want to make this. I went there and I found a little money and at the end the ambition and the inspiration came along the way. But there was not an urgent necessity to make this film. It fits with a lot of things that I'm interested in, like popular culture -- What does art stand for and why do we go to the cinema? What is the purpose? This is a question I'm interested in, but inspiration, not so much.

Has The Prince of Nothingwood provided you with the answers to those questions?

It has, and I hope it helps people to think about this question. It tells you that there is an urgent need to make images, to make films, even during war,and even if you don't have the money. And even if the films are not very good, they will find somebody who will like them. So something is going to happen, and I think that's very touching. I don't like Shaheen's films, I hardly watched them -- I paid somebody to watch them. But I'm very moved by all these people that do like his films, and it makes you think about the value of art and the purpose of why we make cinema. I used to study aesthetics in London, so it was one of the questions I had and while the film is lighter than this, that's what was in mind.

The film uses Shaheen as a doorway, beginning as a story about one man which becomes a story about Afghanistan, its people and culture.

Yeah, but it's not so much about Afghanistan and it's not my purpose is to say things about the country. There's one guy like him in Iran who makes cowboy movies in the Iranian desert and there's also a guy like that in Tunisia. I mean you have this person with an urgent need to film whatever they have under their hand and since it's war, then it tells you something about the war. But it's not so much interested in him.

There was a lot of editing, 148 hours that you haven't seen [laughs]. Making a documentary is really telling a story and I don't have any idea of objectivity -- it is my point of view on Shaheen. Some people say to me that they would like to show his films, that they really want to see his films, and I say: "You don't see how much I have edited. I show you the very nice parts of his films." People think he's a great filmmaker and that's the story I wanted to tell -- but I could have told another story.

To my mind, objectivity is a human construct, a falsity that does not exist.

Except mathematics maybe, and sometimes physics.

The purist opinion of documentary as objective is therein built on a faulty premise. From the subjective choices of the filmmakers that bleed into the film to the subjectivity of the subjects, it's not purely objective. Hence, it calls into question the traditional dividing line of the objectivity of documentary and the subjectivity of narrative fiction.

Totally! It's the editing, and why you chose this guy, how you film it and what you show, or what you don't show. It's not only subjectivity, it's storytelling. Not many people ask me about this, they take it for granted that it's the real Shaheen. But I'm not lying, I'm not saying things that aren't true, but I am telling a story, a fictional story out of what I filmed. I took scenes that happened one day and I put them with another story that happened three months later and that's why we had seven months of editing with three editors. So it was a lot of work.

One of the striking aspects of the film are the light and comedic moments offset by a darker and heavier sensibility, which include moments when, for example, Shaheen talks about arranged marriages.

We made 70rough cuts and there was one version we tested and you couldn't believe you were in Afghanistan. People would say: "Oh this is too funny. You don't see Afghanistan, it's just a bunch of crazy guys." I then said: "Let's put in a little more darkness." You then have to strike a balance and to me, if it's not perfect, I'm happy.

Shooting the film in a dangerous and volatile part of the world, was the approach that once you had enough footage you then looked to shaping the film in the edit?

It's not when you feel you have enough, it's finding a balance between security and artistic concerns. That's it. You have a plan and you have an agenda. There are things you want to do, but it has to be balanced with security concerns. The real story I was going to tell about Shaheen I found in the editing room and in the end, I only kept five days of the shoot. The whole film takes place in Bamyan (Province), nothing in Kabul, although I had weeks and weeks of footage there that I had to take away.

There's a moment when Shaheen asks if you are scared, which sees him verbalise our silent recognition of your boldness and courage to bring this story to the screen.

It's very difficult and it's not like you are walking in the street and there's a bomb. This is not what's difficult. The difficulty is to cope with your fear and to have rules and to follow or to not follow those rules. There are many foreign people that never go out at all in Kabul -- it is forbidden. You have British diplomats who do not even drive their car from the airport to the embassy -- they will take an helicopter that costs £2,000 each way. Then you have foreign people who walk in the street without a scarf -- these girls get kidnapped.

In between these you have Shaheen, who is telling me all the time that I'm too scared, because it's a man's value to be brave and he's a brave guy, there's no question about that. He was in an attack two weeks ago. There was a bomb in a Shia Mosque and he helped to carry out the bodies. So there's no kidding about the fact that he's a brave guy and he has to be because he's been fighting to make his films. But you are in the middle of this and I'm not a brave person at all and I don't think being brave is a very important question. It is, but I'm not brave, I'm very scared and so in the middle of all of this stress it's enough just to manage to not go crazy, or to not drink too much [laughs].

Salim Shaheen and Sonia Kronlund (courtesy of Pyramide Films)

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