Image: Henry Diltz /

Discovering Joni Mitchell is something that I did alone. Sixteen years ago this summer I was midway through that transition period between college and university. Working in a part-time job after school, I often found myself listening to music on my headphones in relative isolation. Over that summer, I developed a love for Joni Mitchell’s Blue, an album that was twice my age at the time. Blue stood out to me as a key example of what it meant for a musician to make music that was full of passion and that age-old misnomer, authenticity. To me, Mitchell seemed to…

This piece was first published in HERO Issue 24, on sale now.

Enter any gallery or museum and the four-word configuration ‘please do not touch’ crops up more than any other. Alongside painted lines, stanchion ropes and motion detectors, these barriers are set up around artworks to maintain distance, to cordon off, protect, and prolong — underscoring the idea of art as ‘preserved’ and ‘unattainable’.

Yet throughout the twentieth century, performance art has encouraged the exact opposite: doing away with distance and restriction in favour of freedom and spontaneous creation. Designed with the intention of not being contained in a…

Whoever is responsible for tracking down and persuading the New Radicals to reform for the Biden inauguration deserves a medal.

Tomorrow, on Wednesday January 20, one-time frontman Gregg Alexander will get the old band back together for the first time in twenty-two years to perform their one and only hit single for the virtual Biden-Harris “Parade Across America” inauguration event.

As part of one of the most famous one-hit-wonder bands of all time, Alexander disbanded New Radicals in the summer of 1999 at the height of their fame, a mere nine months on from the release of their debut single…

Microphones in 2020 is the latest release from Washington-based songwriter and visual artist Phil Elverum. Today he’s more commonly known for his work under the prolific Mount Eerie alias, but twenty years ago he came of prominence spearheading the lo-fi indie band The Microphones, releasing a series of albums that now hold cult classic status.

The plainly titled Microphones in 2020 represents the first release for seventeen years under that name, one which listeners like myself had naively come to assume was defunct and relegated to Elverum’s past. For no particular reason, Elverum decided to play a small gig as…

Credit: Matt Lankes

Richard Linklater once said that all films are about time. As a visual art, film suspends and edits time to showcase an alternative to the constant flow of reality, playing with memory and sense of place as a gateway to tell stories. It moves into the future and it goes way back, too. We know actual time cannot be erased or reclaimed, but films inhabit a world where anything seems possible.

The only thing bigger than the sound of Arcade Fire is their ambition.

After five albums and hundreds of live shows it’s easy to take their extravagance for granted, but rewind one whole decade and it wouldn’t be considered hyperbole to state that they’d already approached seriously operatic heights with their first two albums. Yet the period surrounding the release of their third album The Suburbsregularly touted as the band’s zenith — built on the grandiosity of those albums and managed, remarkably, to surpass them.

Where Funeral spiralled skyward in curlicues of quasi-religious fervour, The Suburbs unfurled far…

“The close-up, the correctly illuminated, directed and acted close-up of an actor is and remains the height of cinematography. There is nothing better. That incredibly strange and mysterious contact you can suddenly experience with another soul through an actor’s gaze. A sudden thought, blood that drains away or blood that pumps into the face, the trembling nostrils, the suddenly shiny complexion or mute silence, that is to me some of the most incredible and fascinating moments you will ever experience.” — Ingmar Bergman

More than any other director in the history of film Ingmar Bergman used depictions of the human…

‘Best of’ lists are not really important, are they?

Yet at this time of year they are everywhere, endlessly organising a chaotic glut of music, film, television and literature. The end of 2019 affords us the opportunity to put a cap on the decade that has just been, soon to be consigned to the annals of history. Perhaps this is why they hold such fascination for culture junkies such as myself, but why do we then often feel compelled to produce our own?

Before Spotify and Apple Music changed the very way we consume music, was tracking recording habits…

Compiling an end-of-year albums list always feels like a slightly futile idea.

The music is still present. It feels unfinished.

Listening to music is never a done deal, but the ubiquitous end-of-year list seeks to rationalise a year’s worth of music and box it away. Yet rarely does there come a point at which it feels fitting to compartmentalise an individual record and say “I’m done with this!” We merely move on when something else grabs our attention.

It’s worth noting the key differences between personal end-of-year lists and those compiled by publications.

Magazines online and in print (those that…

Christian Marclay’s The Clock (2010) is a 24-hour long video installation composed of instances in film and television where clocks or watches are either visible in shot or just out of shot, or where someone is asking/telling the time. These have been painstakingly edited together to chronicle the passing of real time and as a result it can be considered an actual timepiece.

At no point during the piece (The Clock is not a film, merely a collage of film segments) should the viewer need to refer to their watch or phone to check what time it is (for it…


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