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‘Hugo’ Pass the Flop Threshold Actors After All

November 28, 2011

cheap basketball shoescheap basketball shoescheap basktball shoes Mark M (too many Marks!) is correct, I work as a sub in a fairly specialised realm: I have to work with material which involves the entire history of fine arts, applied arts, arts and craft, design and architecture, jumping in and out of polemics and manifestos and movements from all ages, what they meant then and what they mean now. And some of the writers I’m working with are not scholarly historians but eager young journalists still somewhat entwined with the fierce first-time-out stances they took at art school or picked up from the rock press as teens or whatever, and filtering everything through that (now perhaps rather dated) lens. And so they make claims which in context are far from clear (partly because it’s very hard for any one contributor to have a grasp of the full collated context of an issue of a magazine that hasn’t come out yet), and I get apparently prissy as a consequence sometimes — because my job is making things clear, so the debate can move on to matters of substance and away from confusions of definition or usage, and not have the reader baffled by the fact that a word seems to have been used in three contrasting senses in as many pages. (Important to note: while youngsters blundering through stuff they haven’t entirely grasped, they also sometimes — often! — get their teeth into genuine problems that theoldsters have simply internalised and institutionalised during the process of mastery. By professional I’m pednatic [update: I’m going to leave this unedited, to teach myself not to be such a ponce!], but by temperament I’m if anything indolent and mischievous — I want to see what comes out of the clash between know-nothing energy and know-too-much settled pragmatism…) A number one straight out of Popular ‘70, but for once none the worse for it; “Would I Lie To You?” was a piece of unashamedly retro blue-eyed soul-pop, and it was that “unashamedly” which made it work; unlike some names which come to mind, Charles Pettigrew and Eddie Chacon, from Philadelphia and Oakland respectively, black and white, sounded as though they were singing the music they loved because they genuinely wanted to, as opposed to being cynically slotted into a preprogrammed machine of “ironic” samples and references. The record’s architecture is admirable, from its opening boxed drums, pub piano and shakers suddenly punctuated by some Aaron Neville abstract, floating vowels as though rehearsing in their attic, which opens out onto a plain of serene old school strings, enthusiastic but not overpowering backing vocalists and a genuine feel of spontaneous give and take in the music as the two men take turns to pledge and reinforce their fealty to their doubtfully jealous loved ones. Their voices are pleasingly high-register – the tenderer Mick Hucknall meeting the glorious near-androgynous tones of an Al Green – and gently persuasive rather than grittily hectoring; feel the truthfulness flowing out of the point where the music momentarily stops – after the arrangement has progressively narrowed to pure rhythm, as though the lover is approaching the eye of the lover’s never-lying camera – and we hear a never more heartfelt “That’s not the kind of game I play.” The intermittent whoops do not sound rehearsed, and the cumulative experience is one of pure, admiring basktball shoesAdidas Adizero Rose Signature White Royalblue

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