Svalbard Split With Pariso

This split EP featuring tracks from both Svalbard and Pariso individually and two collaborative tracks came out in 2014. It is probably Svalbard's strongest and most accessible work to date. You can see why they along with Sonance have secured another spot playing at the prestigious Temples festival again in its second incarnation in May. The Bristol bunch have seen a quick rise to attention just by being sheer quality and honesty throughout.

The two tunes made with Pariso are the heaviest on the split and venture into Deathcore territory a bit more. They are still finely tuned fury and no doubt pit inducing beasts. 'Ripped Apart' marks the opening of the tracks for Svalbard, and starts things of at a breakneck pace, and despite its top notch heaviness, the charming and almost haunting melodies remain in the right places and in the right amounts.

The song 'Grayscale'. Motherfuckinghell. Its amazing, uplifting and majestic yet still maintains its razor-sharp edge till the bitter end. Soaring out of the speakers quite literally, this fusion of post-rock and hardcore is not a new emergence on the scene, but still effortlessly pulled off to perfection. In fact this marriage of the two genres pervades across this split and all of Svalbard's short existence.

The ethereal nature of this rocking EP allows the listener to easily picture a video for any of the Svalbard songs, even for the less creative minds out there. The slow building tearjerker that is 'Allure' is an example of such powers. With an intro that sounds like post-millennium Propagandhi (not a bad thing!) the track tantalisingly unwinds to a fist pumping finish.

They sound well honed and wise past their years. Their brand of fresh, modern hardcore doesn't flirt with pretension or any whiny soaring, clean vocals that would here be completely unnecessary and marring something special. The sound of this band may be perfectly summed up by the bleak, near uninhabitable environment of the Norwegian Islands which they share their name with, but its still warms my cockles every time I hit the play button.

Whiplash

Whiplash, directed by relative newcomer Damien Chazelle is a fantastic film. From start to finish it is concise and engaging. The soundtrack is... you guessed it! Jazz. Well the story of a little drummer boy becoming a jazz man through the brutal tutelage of J.K. Simmons at a prestigious music school wasn't exactly going to have One Direction or Slayer on the soundtrack was it?

Brutal is an understatement. He is terrifying. Old school teacher. Reminds me of a primary school teacher I used to have. Threw chairs, pencils. Foamed at the mouth when shouting. Drank rum from a hip flask in his desk. Well guess what - it fucking worked. No bullshit, everybody paid attention. I think I wet myself a couple of times during this film! Id recommend a nappy, catheter or other appropriate sanitary product for viewers with a nervous disposition.

Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), an influential and ruthless tutor at the Schaffer Conservatory of Music in New York who discovers a young first year student Andrew Nieman (Miles Teller) practicing his drums and notices he has something special. Fletcher puts him through his paces (literally!) to get the best out of him. However his methods are cruel, emotionally devastating and sometimes convoluted.

As the story progresses, Nieman makes many sacrifices and alienates his family. A great scene occurs at his family's dinner table where the 'dumb jock' character is doted by his family for his minor achievements in american football, and Nieman is quickly forgotten until he bites back with a scathing assessment of what he sees as pathetic achievements in comparison to his talent, showing him at his most passionate.

Niemans evolution from extremely nervous to utmost dedication and fiery temperament is very believable. His father, played by Paul Reiser who doesn't fully understand his son, but is always there for him is also a very convincing (if only minor) performance. 

Very watchable, I almost looked forward to seeing it again as soon as the last cymbal sounded out. Its impressively easy to root for the main character, and sympathise with Fletcher as he is chastised for his unorthodox teaching approach. It makes you wish you had a Fletcher in your life to motivate you to reach your full potential. Oh yeah, the drumming is pretty good too!

Birdman: Wings Clipped

Birdman by Alejandro González Iñárritu is a tale of a washed up actor seeking redemption at the hands of the theatre community after previously starring in the wildly successful 'Birdman' trilogy. From the start right until the final credits the camera movement is nauseating and the scatty jazzy soundtrack borders on pretentious, which is plain irritating. This shamefully masks some fantastic acting from Michael Keaton, Edward Norton and Zach Galifianakis.

I thought I had daydreamed for a moment and thought I was watching a bizarre remake of the West Wing, with Keaton as the president. How the camera followed in front of Keaton as he walked down the halls of the theater (intentional or not) was very reminiscent of Sheen in the aforementioned show. The only time the camera seems to sit still is during the scenes set in Riggan's room at the theatre. It could symbolize the stability and calmness he feels when he is alone in his room (well apart from the Birdman of course!). 

The hint to Michael Keaton's caped past throughout this film is obvious, even down to the deep voice of the voice of Riggan's ego echoing Christian Bale in the Nolan adaptions. The diatribe towards audiences of the Superhero movie genre seems to come from jealousy rather than clever observation. Superhero movies are borne from illustrated novels mostly and are supposed to be action packed by definition right? All genres are plagued with hit and miss films, not just this particular area. Its worth having a thousand Green Lantern's if we still get a Dark Knight at the end.

Edward Norton is fantastic as the passionate, volatile Mike who is brought in at the last minute due to some terrible acting. His highlight is a smashing incident during one of the play's previews. Emma Stone is the daughter who's sass and apathy inevitably melt as she has a predictable Hallmark moment with her father. Her romance with Mike is very unrealistic like most romance in Hollywood, but adorable nonetheless and an essential part of the plot. Without all the little things building up and going against the protagonist like a game of Buckaroo, we wouldnt get how stressed Riggan is by everything going on and not going on in his life.

Despite all my angst when describing this film, there are some genuinely funny moments. The dressing gown episode that goes viral is genius. When Keaton's ego is rallying him during a great scene, he says "60 is the new 30 motherfucker". Not that nudity and profanity are the only things that float my boat, this is just coincidence.