Wesley Morris’s ode to hip hop and much moreΝβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ Νβ€Œ 
James Pillion
 

MY FAVOURITE THINGS | U.N.I.T.Y.

β€œHip-hop represents a break with the past because it exploded out of something that broke: this country’s promise to its Black citizens. And unlike aspects of jazz and Motown, this new music wouldn’t be arguing for its resplendence, worthiness and incomparable ingenuity. Salves, appeasement, subtlety, civility, love β€” those evidently didn’t work because here we are. Bring the noise.”

β€” WESLEY MORRIS
 

Last weekend, I went on a psychedelic hike with some new friends. Riding an Uber out to Cabo da Roca, the western most part of Europe, we ventured down a lighthouse path to take a dip in the ice-cold waters of Praia da Ursa. The ecstatic calm was quickly eclipsed by shock and awe as we began to climb a steep cliff-face, embarking on a trek that left my heart in my throat. Ending up on the rooftop of a beach-side restaurant, we indulged in a Bacchanalian feast of seafood and ice-cold Portuguese wine like the rescued survivors of some shipwreck. As we toasted each other for the umpteenth time, I was reminded that fear is an integral part of a life well lived. At least it feels like that to me.

Happy September! Here’s my new playlist to ease you into a new month.
 

How Hip Hop Conquered The World πŸ—ž

Wesley Morris makes a stand for the fiftieth anniversary of hip-hop, a genre that has outlived its predecessors for one simple reason. Its sustained relevance in calling attention to a broken system built on broken promises. Evolving from the Jamaican communities of New York, its founding fathers weren’t arguing for integration. They started their own club, built on solidarity and a sustained commitment to community, and the world was only too happy to line up behind the velvet rope. This Tracklib Sample Breakdown, covering half a century of samples, had me drifting down memory lane with The Pharcyde’s Labcabincalifornia, Queen Latifah’s All Hail The Queen, Mary J. Blige’s My Life & Bone Thugs-N-Harmony E. 1999 Eternal. Yinka Adegoke’s reflections on hip hop’s legacy in Africa offers rich perspective.
 

Inherent Vice πŸŽ₯ 

Rewatching this 1970s stoner romp brought back memories of a balls-to-the-wall screenplay I wrote in the first year of film school, its ensemble characters and plot points lifted directly from Thomas Pynchon’s 2009 book of same name. While it was soon abandoned, P.T. Anderson’s adaptation would bring the vision alive a couple years later. Joaquin Phoenix, re-teaming with the L.A native after 2012’s The Master, delivers a magnetic performance, alternating between a competent private eye or down and dirty hippie (depending on how much grass he consumes in a given sitting). I remember seeing this film with fellow P.T. acolytes at Hollywood’s Cinerama Dome and being left with a case of dry mouth. Ten years on, the film had me licking my lips, even if I had to keep hitting the rewind button.
 

The Mayor Talks A Good Game πŸ—ž

Why, oh why am I giving print space to NYC’s Mayor? Well, for one Ian Parker’s long-form article is world-class writing. Besides, Eric Adams comes off like the kind of friend I’ve been waiting for my whole life. The former police officer represents so much of what I love about New Yorkers. The false humility, inevitable quirks and their incomparable ability to never let the truth get in the way of a good story. In Adams’s case I also love all the new-age twists; his passion for breath-work, ice-baths, and good gut health. What makes the 62 year-old’s antics so relatable, on a deeply human level, is his desire to savour a dream he manifested into reality. Sure, he’s prone to bending the truth but can you blame him for wanting to take a mighty bite from the Apple?
 

The Covenant πŸŽ₯

Who would have thunk it. Guy Ritchie the sentimentalist. While I’ve reached my limit for white savior films featuring heroes putting down entire divisions a la Rambo I-V, I made an exception for Jake Gyllenhaal in this tale of begrudging brotherhood. Dar Salim is a formidable weapon in Ritchie’s arsenal, delivering a performance as an Afghan translator that carries the weight of an entire generation ruined by a fruitless war. Whose allegiance to the stars and stripes was a quid pro quo arrangement to give their loved ones a life free of IEDs and car bombs. As Western news outlets shed crocodile tears over the two year anniversary of the Taliban’s return, Ritchie makes the case for those left behind by broken promises.
 

You’re Wrong About πŸ“»

When SinΓ©ad O’Connor passed away this summer, this New York Times piece coloured in the missing shades, offering up anecdotes from her 2021 memoir Rememberings that left me hungry for more. Which is how I landed on this podcast episode with Allyson McCabe, whose new book sets the record straight on why there was no place for an opinionated young woman in 1990s pop music. In so many ways, O’Connor was an activist working in music, altogether uninterested in the trappings of stardom. Her 1991 SNL Pope stunt, ripping up her deceased mother’s photo of John Paul II in protest to child abuse in the Catholic church, proving she was a woman of conviction.

β€œI’m not a pop star. I’m just a troubled soul who needs to scream into mikes now and then.” β€” SinΓ©ad O’Connor
 

Damage πŸŽ₯

A recent re-watch of Louis Malle’s My Dinner with Andre helped me to harness two polarizing truths. Not only did Wallace Shawn and Andre Gregory predict the age of distraction; they also remind just how unattractive white men can get past the age of forty. It also, thanks to Karina Longworth’s You Must Remember This, hooked me into Malle’s controversial 1992 drama. Jeremy Irons disappears into the custom dress shoes of this fat cat politician. How he plays an unfaithful husband and cuckold, carrying on with his son’s fiancΓ©e, is another thing entirely. Almost thirty years on, time proves that the patriarchy really can get away with blue murder. Watch Wes Anderson toot Malle’s horn here.
 

The Course of Love πŸ“š

Almost 25 years after the release of Essays in Love, Alain de Botton returns with The Course of Love, a curious tale of two unlikely souls confronting the highs and lows of marriage and family. The British philosopher has the Midas touch of honing in on the discomfiting truths of romance for which we’re too blind to see. The medium of fiction, as Botton likes to stress, simply helps the medicine go down. The bottom line, according to the British author, is that love is a skill. A muscle that needs to flexed with consistency in order to function with any regularity. Serendipity has no part to play in long-lasting relationships, replaced instead by the power of compromise and an ability to bide our tongues.
 

And God Created Woman πŸŽ₯ 

On a recent family vacay, I paid my respects to Roger Vadim’s tomb overlooking the crystal clear waters of the Cote D’Azur. Vadim was the quintessential playboy, sharing his life, and linen sheets, with a who’s who of starlets like Annette StrΓΈyberg, Catherine Deneuve and Jane Fonda. He was also famous for putting the small fishing town of Saint Tropez on the map thanks, in no small part, to his decision to cast his wife as the Woman. Watching this film with revisionist goggles reminds that Vadim’s 1956 debut was written by men for men. Yet that doesn’t stop the inimitable Brigitte Bardot from igniting the screen with her ravishing beauty. Her ennui foreshadowing a generational uprising on the horizon.

 

The Islander πŸ“š

This Death On The Lot ep on the meteoric fall of Errol Flynn inspired me to finish reading Chris Blackwell’s memoir. Blackwell’s earliest years had him rubbing shoulders with the Tasmanian devil himself and Ian Fleming amongst the untamed wilderness of Jamaica.Yet what sets this autobiography apart is the way Blackwell pays tribute  to the various souls who shaped him as a music mogul and a man. John Martyn, Nick Drake, Cat Stevens, Free, Robert Palmer, Roxy Music, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Brian Eno, the list goes on. Yet in many ways, the book’s central focus, and Blackwell’s crowning achievement, falls at the feet of the big cheese himself. Bob Marley, as Blackwell quips, was the first third-world musician to become a global icon.

 

This Place Rules πŸ“Ή

Last Sunday, I put on Andrew Callaghan’s doco charting the madness that was the US 2020 election and the eventual fallout on January 6th 2021. It felt rather fitting after President Trump’s mug shot hijacked the platform formerly known as Twitter. The Philadelphia native, founder of Channel 5 News, has tapped into a peculiar form of journalism, documenting the absurd with empathic deadpan and brilliant comedic editing. CNN meets Tim and Eric. No small wonder the comedy duo’s Abso Lutely Productions signed him on to document the American carnage. It’s easy to come away thinking that democracy, or at least the kind hawked in the US of A, has gone to hell in a hand-basket. Only time, and the fallout from the upcoming 2024 election, will tell.
 

William Friedkin πŸ‘€

For my money, William Friedkin was one of the most innovative voices to come out of the 1970s. He was a human wrecking ball, devastating the staid Hollywood landscape with sheer terror (The Exorcist), nail-biting anxiety (Sorcerer) and memorable action sequences (To Live and Die in L.A.). I had the pleasure of seeing Friedkin wax lyrical in the flesh during a film school Q&A in Los Angeles. It was the great Howard Hawks, father to Kitty Hawks (his girlfriend at the time), that lit his fuse, accusing him of wallowing in mediocrity with the 1970 film The Boys in the Band. When he went on to win Best Director the following year for The French Connection he really should have tipped his cap to the legend himself.

β€œHis lovable, irascible personality was cover for a beautiful, brilliant, deep-feeling giant of a man.” β€” Francis Ford Coppola
 

The Last Waltz 🎢

I gobbled up Martin Scorsese’s rockumentary on lunch breaks, each celebrity guest appearance leaving me brimming with adrenaline. The 1978 documentary boasts a who’s who from the era; Joni Mitchell and Neil Young to Van Morrison and Muddy Waters. Yet I found my eye drawn back time and again to the mischievous glint in Robbie Robertson’s eyes, who passed away last month. When I first listened to The Band’s Music From Big Pink as a youngster, their debut LP recorded, and dedicated, to their shared Woodstock home, I was left spellbound. Robertson’s obituary, and quote below, put it all in perspective.

β€œI wanted to write music that felt like it could’ve been written 50 years ago, tomorrow, yesterday β€” that had this lost-in-time quality,” β€” Robbie Robertson
 

Thanks for reading. To show your support, forward it to someone who’d like it or treat yourself to one of my books.

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WRITING | @jamespillion
FILM | @jamespillionfilm

Tv. dos Pescadores 6
Lisboa
Portugal

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