Notes; it’s hands down the most hilarious application on my phone. Full of nonsensical middle of the night musings; ideas for writing, important to dos, and cheese must buy cheese. I use it to keep addresses, to list funny things to tell Ollie, to remember a killer dish at a restaurant or help my scat brain to marry faces with names - Brian, short and fat. It also houses a thousand and one recommendations for TV shows, bands, films and docos. Titles I’ve procured from friends while off tits knowing I won’t remember in a sober state.
For some reason it’s taken me a while to actually start listening to recommendations. I think I was a little cagey about being told what I’d like; as if my taste was that basic, that easy to ascertain. And perhaps a little embarrassed when I hadn’t seen a celebrated Sixteen Candles-esque classic. I know, it’s a travesty. I also felt like a lot of recommendations were simply ways for people to showcase their overzealous cultured and arty side by citing some obscure film or literary piece – which irritated me greatly.
But recently I’ve been really taking on recommendations. In fact, last Christmas instead of gifts, a friend and I traded our Top 5’s in films and books, writing a short spiel about why each thing hit us in feels. It was satisfying to write, I felt important, considered, and it was a beautiful to explore a dear friend deeply. To know them, what makes them.
And I’ve discovered some truly great things by reserving judgement, ignoring pre-existing perceptions, and taking a chance.
Mad Men for example, I don’t really know why I was apprehensive about watching this, I guess I thought it was going to be a real number for the boys, chauvinist and vapid. I assumed the impeccable production design was a tactic to distract viewers from a shitty storyline. But after Ollie insisted incessantly that it was really fucking good, I decided to give it a go. And oh my I’m glad I did. Beyond the drool worthy Hamm, there’s a real and raw snapshot of American culture in the 60s. You see flashes of sheer desperation; portraits of broken salesmen which struck me much like those in Glengarry Glen Ross. There’s the exploration of gender roles as you see the blind acceptance then marked rejection of the nuclear family. All the while you’re given an insider’s view of the advertising industry and the creative process; you witness an idea from its inception and follow it through to fruition. Way deep and way addictive.
A more recent discovery was Ryan Adams. I’d been encouraged (at times forcefully) by my friend Tegan to listen to the chipmunk cheeked, scruffy haired artist. Tegs is obsessed and now I know why. After listening to him in an enthralling interview with Marc Maron, I was hooked, taken by his vulnerability and natural storytelling ability. I was even more stoked when I discovered he’d covered an entire Taylor Swift album. I’ve since Spotified the shit out of him, and Shiver and Shake has been set to repeat.
Another hot tip from another hot friend was the 90s film 200 Cigarettes. My girl Ash shared with me this gem, and it’s a new favourite. A throng of twentysomethings navigate their New Years’ night. It’s got an all-star cast inc. Paul Rudd (how good is Paul Rudd) and Christina Ricci who’s New Yorker accent is fucking fierce. It’s worth watching for the nostalgia inducing 80s fashion alone, damn that turtleneck.
So, hit me up with your lists of things to see – it will save me sifting through my intoxicated gibberish notes aimlessly.