Hard to imagine in London's blazing Indian Summer, but the record-releasing end of year season is soon upon us. Albums come out 24-7 these days (I am over-Spotified with checking out all the new stuff), but there are some unusually thrilling appearances on the horizon: 50 Words of Snow by Kate Bush (any new work of hers is a major event); Florence + The Machine's second, Ceremonials (she is shaping up to be a major figure, a new Bush); a third woman of musical gifts, Canadian Feist, has her second work out this month. And of course albums from Coldplay, Radiohead, and Peter Gabriel are also intriguing options. The Noel Gallagher project has started well, with a fun single, so that's to look for, too. And, left-fieldish, a new Thomas Dolby double-album in late October. Meanwhile, some of the best recent albums are Pajama Club, Wilco's The Whole Love, St. Vincent's Strange Mercy, and Again Into Eyes by S.C.U.M. not to mention the new Kasabian. 2011 is shaping up to be a very good year for music. Should I add there's a new Pixie Lott coming too? Meanwhile, we have to wait until 2012 for the 13th U2 - hopefully it will flip its web-shooters and swing city-blocks away from that maladroit musical.
THAT HANDSOME MAN A PERSONAL BRIEF REVIEW BY TODD SWIFT I could lie and claim Larkin, Yeats , or Dylan Thomas most excited me as a young poet, or even Pound or FT Prince - but the truth be told, it was Thom Gunn I first and most loved when I was young. Precisely, I fell in love with his first two collections, written under a formalist, Elizabethan ( Fulke Greville mainly), Yvor Winters triad of influences - uniquely fused with an interest in homerotica, pop culture ( Brando, Elvis , motorcycles). His best poem 'On The Move' is oddly presented here without the quote that began it usually - Man, you gotta go - which I loved. Gunn was - and remains - so thrilling, to me at least, because so odd. His elegance, poise, and intelligence is all about display, about surface - but the surface of a panther, who ripples with strength beneath the skin. With Gunn, you dressed to have sex. Or so I thought. Because I was queer (I maintain the right to lay claim to that
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