Two musical biopics. Two flamboyant, iconic British Rockstars who had their own demons, pitfalls and tough critics. And one director (kind of) – in the form of Dexter Fletcher who took over from the fired Bryan Singer to complete Bohemian Rhapsody and then went on to fully helm Rocketman. The recent release of the Elton John biopic followed in the wake of the Freddie Mercury global blockbuster hit of 2018, which exceeded all financial expectations (taking an impressive $903 million at the box office). It’s success meant that Fletcher was truly Under Pressure. But, despite their similarities on the surface, the films feel like they were made on completely different planets – which I’m sure was entirely the point and it allows these distinguished figures the space they rightfully deserve. It is exactly how, where and why they differ that makes for a fascinating discussion.
Structurally, the films couldn’t be further apart. Despite being named after Queen’s innovative hit that’s acclaimed for its ingenious structure, Bohemian Rhapsody follows Mercury’s life chronologically, which feels far from innovative and makes the film cliche at best: the band meet, they rise to fame despite setbacks, fall and then rise again. Though there is a cold open, which entails an accomplished long take shot of Mercury (Rami Malek) from behind as he approaches the live aid stage,it is largely negligible as the film then goes on to simply follow his life from a baggage-handling teenager to a live aid superstar. The film concludes with a re-enactment of their 15-minute Live Aid performance, meaning the film is structurally more akin to the non-integrated musical or backstage musical of the Golden Age of Hollywood, which typically reserved their biggest showpieces for the end. This finale left audiences divided: whilst many wallowed in the spectacle and the 80s nostalgia, others found it tiresome and mind-numbingly excessive.
In contrast, Rocketman adopts a shrewder structure that doesn’t force the star’s discography to flow chronologically. Rather than according to their timeline, the songs are cleverly arranged to match a character’s mood or feelings. This unrestrained shuffle allows the film’s structure to be more complex.
It commences with Elton (Taron Egerton), lavishly garbed in a horned-devil, angel-winged orange suit, extravagantly entering a rehab therapy meeting and professing his flaws and backstory. From then on, we are drawn into various significant events in Elton’s life, which are structured around a selection of songs- Saturday nights alright (for fighting) for Elton’s determined performances in local pubs;Crocodile Rock for when Elton’s career begins to take flight (literally) in the Troubadour in LA; and the Honky Cat for the sly prowl of John Reid (played by the screen-dominating Richard Madden). The numbers are carefully chosen and integrated in a manner that makes them feel relevant to the plot as well as adding a compelling depth to the hits.
This structuring is also problematic and links to, perhaps, the greatest flaw of the film: it’s not, in the conventional sense, biographic – it’s an autobiography. Not only does the film construct its protagonist as an unreliable narrator by first person narration throughout but the film production itself was heavily guided by Elton John; produced by the film company he founded and overseen by his husband (David Furnish). Though this offers an element of fidelity, it begs the question: to what extent is this actually representative of Elton and his life or is this the sanitised version that he wants us to see? I don’t wish to detract from the honest and significant gay male sex scene (the first major Hollywood production to include one) or the sincere and wonderfully abstract portrayals of Elton battling his addictions. But, Elton is persistently depicted as a victim and it feels necessary to wonder whether he really was, if this is the side we are shown or (if he was) does this make for a good film?
Though moderated by Queen, flooded with historic inaccuracies and a creative licence frequently deployed, the depiction of Mercury feels more balanced and objective; he is as much the antagonist as he is the victim. Perhaps, this is more in tune with the personalities of the individuals but it feels partially due to the respective portrayals of Elton and Mercury by Egerton and Malek. Both representations deserve merit and prevent the films from sinking into the biopic-abyss. But, like the films, they are completely different. When watching Malek, he seems to totally embody everything about Mercury and his acting is so outstanding, it’s easy to forget that is is, in fact, a performance. Egerton’s Elton is equally, brilliantly executed but this is indeed Egerton’s Elton – it feels harder to forget the man behind the ginger wig and horn-rimmed glasses. It’s certainly a performance rather than a definitive portrayal. This is not, however, a bad thing and primarily results from the fact that Egerton actually sings all of Elton’s songs, whilst Malek lip-synched the Queen’s songs with the aid of a Mercury sound-alike.
The real question is then- which is better? And the honest answer is: I don’t know and it depends. Stylistically, Fletcher perfectly matches the differing aesthetics to the superstar: clean-cut, soap-opera thriller for the dramatics of Mercury and otherworldly, dazzling spectacle for the flamboyant Elton. These films are like non-identical twins- they have the same director at the core and are from the same Rock-biopic family- but there aesthetics and style are nearly, completely antithetical and should be treated as such. Whether you’re more fan of a Crocodile Rock or a Killer Queen, both films are a must-see and leave us wondering which British rock icon will be next?
The Flaming Lips, King’s Mouth: Originally issued earlier this year on Record Store Day as a limited run of 4,000 gold-colored vinyls, The Flaming Lips’ fifteenth studio album is officially out and available to stream today via Warner Bros. Records. A follow-up to 2017’s Oczy Melody, King’s Mouth has been described as a return to form for the psychedelic band, and features narration from Mick Jones of the Clash on “nearly every song”. The album was conceived as a soundtrack to a 2017 art exhibit of the same name by frontman Wayne Coyne.
Nas, The Lost Tapes II: A sequel to 2002’s positively received The Lost Tapes, which compiled tracks that did not make it into Nas’ albums, this is the long-awaited fifth compilation album from American rapper Nas and a follow-up to last year’s Nasir. Originally announced in 2003, The Lost Tapes II has been continually delayed for the past sixteen years due to label complications as Nas switched from Sony to Def Jam. Now, fans are finally getting what they have long been asking for. The compilation features guest appearances by Swizz Beatz, RaVaughn, David Ranier, Al Jarreau, J Meyers and Kenyon Harrold.
Ada Lea, What We Say in Private: Ada Lea is a Montreal, Quebec-based musician who is also a visual artist, and this is her debut album out now via Next Door Records. She cites female artists from across the artistic spectrum as inspirations, from Sylvia Plath to Frida Kahlo and Nina Simone. The purposefully-lower-cased what we say in private is the result of deep introspection following the end of a relationship and a period of documenting her emotions in different forms to create “a world that I can build around me and sit inside.”
IDER, Emotional Education: Duo Megan Markwick and Lily Somerville describe themselves as ‘conscious pop’, and based on the singles we’ve heard so far, that’s an apt categorization. Their debut album Emotional Education, which was mostly written in their London flat over a period of six years, is out now via Glassnote. The title explains a lot about the album: “It came from a song [‘Saddest Generation’] that I had written,” says Megan Markwick, “but then Lily had put in that lyric – ‘Where’s the emotional education we’re all looking for?’ And it was a penny drop moment. It’s such a perfect example of the way we work, this partnership that is all entangled.” “Emotional Education is what we give each other,” adds Lily Somerville, “and what we’re going to give you with this album.”
A lot of people might hate on Ed Sheehan for shifting away from his trademark acoustic style in favour of a more pop-centric sound, but that’s not really a fair criticism. If anything, the summery opener to his new album, ‘Beautiful People’ feat. Khalid, proves that he can incorporate electronic elements into his music in a way that pleasantly suits his vocal delivery and lyrics. Instead, the problem with his latest effort, which is a collaborative project featuring some of the biggest names in hip-hop, pop, and beyond, is that rather than the guest artists making an appearance on an Ed Sheehan song, it feels more like Ed Sheeran deliberately copying the guest artist’s style to the safest and most radio-friendly version it could be (see ‘Anstisocial’ feat. Travis Scott or ‘Remember the Name’ feat. Eminem and 50 Cent). The exceptions to this pattern lead to the album’s best and worst tracks: ‘Best Part of Me’ is a heartfelt acoustic love ballad as good as Ed Sheehan has ever written and featuring an emotive performance from YEBBA, while lead single ‘I Don’t Care’ feat. Justin Bieber is a lifeless and annoying pop song evoking the worst moments off Sheeran’s previous album, Divide. It’s also not unlikely that Sheeran’s going through some kind of identity crisis, uncertain whether he wants to humbly portray himself as an ultra-rich superstar or the same old insecure guy from a small English town. I’m not sure we’d get the Led Zeppelin knock-off that is ‘BLOW’ (featuring Bruno Mars and Chris Stapleton of all people) if that wasn’t the case. A collaborative project is probably not the best opportunity to redefine yourself, but still, No. 6 Collaborations Project is not much more than just listenable, inoffensive pop music.
The Mississippi rapper’s fourth studio album is his official return following his ambitious and epic 2017 double album 4eva Is a Mighty Long Time, a project that saw him parting ways with his then label Def Jam to embrace a new kind of artistic freedom. It was definitely for the best – it’s one of the few double albums that actually work – but the following EPs he dropped in 2018, which were released as a compilation earlier this year, were somewhat underwhelming for a rapper of Big K.R.I.T.’s caliber. His new mixtape, theoretically a sequel to 2010’s K.R.I.T. WUZ HERE, sees him going on a similarly more commercial, less conceptual route, but with more memorable hooks and production this time around, and K.R.I.T. on top form as usual. There are bangers like the opener ‘K.R.I.T. HERE’, in which here reflects on his time with Def Jam, or the more thoughtful and inspiring ‘Believe’, as well as trap-influenced cuts, some of which tend to suffer from a lack of originality (two notable exceptions being ‘High Beams’ and ’Energy’). More soulful tracks like ‘Make it Easy’ or the wonderfully jazzy ‘M.I.S.S.I.S.S.I.P.P.I’ help give some personality to the project, while perhaps the biggest highlight is the infectious single ‘Addiction’ feat. Lil Wayne & Saweetie. Some of the features are spotty, but K.R.I.T. IZ HERE is proof that a Big K.R.I.T. album doesn’t need to be high-minded to be good.
In describing his new project, Dev Hynes, aka Blood Orange, explained that he normally writes and records a bunch of songs after putting out an album, but that he only shares them with friends, despite the fact that he puts as much effort into them as the official release. Having grown older, he’s decided there’s no reason not to release material at the same pace at which he makes it. The result is Angel’s Pulse, a half-hour mixtape that serves as an epilogue to last year’s critically acclaimed Negro Swan, a thoughtful left-field R&B album that requires patience to truly sink in. While Angel’s Pulse feels understandably less focused and essential, it flows surprisingly well for something with such a wide range of musical influences scattered all over the place. The songs here are laid-back and loose, with Hynes comfortably bringing together his knack for writing sticky hooks (he’s produced for the likes of Kylie Minogue, FKA Twigs, and Mac Miller) and experimenting with his production style. See for example the IDM-influenced beat on ‘Baby Florence (Figure)’, the shoegaze-inspired ‘Tuesday Feeling (Choose To Stay)’, the Sparklehorse-eque instrumental on ‘Take It Back’, or the hypnotically multi-layered guitar solo on ‘Something to Do’. With the music being this good, let’s hope he keeps releasing it at this pace.
Banks is back stronger and more confident on her new album III, a follow-up to 2016’s The Altar. The alternative R&B singer’s third album opens with two of its best songs: the bold production on ’Till Now’ is certainly an attention-grabber, but it’s also an emotionally engaging track that immerses you into the singer’s devastating feelings of mindset. Single ’Gimme’ continues on this maximalist pop path, with its rich, distorted bass and an infectious hook to bring it all together. Once Banks returns to familiar R&B ballad territory, though, the tracks become somewhat weaker and more forgettable, as in the nearly 5-minute long ‘Contaminated’ and ‘Hawaiian Mazes’, or the poppier ‘Look What You’re Doing To Me’, which doesn’t do much justice to Banks’ compellingly personal lyrics. ’Sawzall’ is the exception here, with its quietly affecting guitar in the background as she sings “I go over every word you said to me/Every single syllable I could repeat/Certified to scuba dive in my memory.” Despite being somewhat unfocused, there are more hits than misses here, and III is a welcome new direction for Banks.
