oh scott
I am in love with Scott Walker.
Nothing more complicated than that. Even though his most recent album is so profoundly (and deliberately) upsetting that I've only been able to listen to it twice, the fact that he did it astonishes me - and I really just have to get all of his previous material, though his second-to-last album is probably going to give me problems as well. But every record he's made is exponentially darker and more fucked up than the last... for his next one he will probably just climb into a black glass box, slit his own wrists, and bleed out slowly, while singing an improvised narrative of the experience, in front of a live audience. I wish I was exaggerating; that really honestly does seem like something he'd do. I sure hope he DOESN'T, but still.
Anyway, he's dreamy. If you'd like to see for yourself, I highly recommend the documentary 30TH CENTURY MAN, which I just saw yesterday (and which grew my respect for the guy into full on squeeing fangirl want-to-have-his-baby love). And/or just buy one of his records, if you can find them. But not The Drift. Well, heck, maybe, I don't know; if you're ready for listening to something that makes you feel like your small intestine is being slowly extracted through a hole in your neck (but BEAUTIFUL), please be my guest. Otherwise I'd recommend the more-approachable-but-still-miserable-and-weird Scott 3 or Climate of Hunter, from the days when he still created song-like forms instead of severe psychological environments.
Man, I am way behind on updating my film journal. *sigh*
Nothing more complicated than that. Even though his most recent album is so profoundly (and deliberately) upsetting that I've only been able to listen to it twice, the fact that he did it astonishes me - and I really just have to get all of his previous material, though his second-to-last album is probably going to give me problems as well. But every record he's made is exponentially darker and more fucked up than the last... for his next one he will probably just climb into a black glass box, slit his own wrists, and bleed out slowly, while singing an improvised narrative of the experience, in front of a live audience. I wish I was exaggerating; that really honestly does seem like something he'd do. I sure hope he DOESN'T, but still.
Anyway, he's dreamy. If you'd like to see for yourself, I highly recommend the documentary 30TH CENTURY MAN, which I just saw yesterday (and which grew my respect for the guy into full on squeeing fangirl want-to-have-his-baby love). And/or just buy one of his records, if you can find them. But not The Drift. Well, heck, maybe, I don't know; if you're ready for listening to something that makes you feel like your small intestine is being slowly extracted through a hole in your neck (but BEAUTIFUL), please be my guest. Otherwise I'd recommend the more-approachable-but-still-miserable-and-weird Scott 3 or Climate of Hunter, from the days when he still created song-like forms instead of severe psychological environments.
Man, I am way behind on updating my film journal. *sigh*