The Chorus

Joined in studio by our second guest, actual live rock star Andre Kriel, our three-way (ooh!) cornucopia of confabulation includes boiling cats (there is context, fear not); cocaine in Ibiza; Blake being Lively; secret cities; The Crown and being royal pains in the butt; Ridley Scott raising wolves; a singular Lumineer; Sturgill Simpson not giving a toss; Bill Frisell elegantly Telecasting; Colter Wall wearing the devil's fashion and Richard Poplak remembering what was and must not be again.

We delve, literarily, into the complexities of immigration, and just how dark it can get for the displaced. We discover, happily, that everyone does love guitar, and that Richard Bennett, Mike Campbell and Nels Cline give listeners good reason to do so. We join the Indigo Girls in Look(ing) Long, and hitch a ride with mostly white men as they tell jokes and drink coffee. And on TV, we mix up Ray Donovan with elegant chess players and virgins. Which may be a bad idea. Enjoy! Your content ideas to [email protected] or @TheChorus9 upon the Twitter. Please and thank you.

Verily, we spoke of many things this day. Of Billy Gibbons and his fuzzy pedal; of Twin Peaks, 25-year-long cliffhangers and Tubular Bells; and of the Ndlovu Youth Choir and their musical meticulousness. We considered Bill & Ted; the sour taste of cultural appropriation in the kitchen; how guilty pleasures outstrip Hollywood blockbusters; and the passage of a classic tale from book to screen. And we appreciated Bill Bryson's descriptions of bodies (ooh!) and the profundity of a comic strip made into an insight into immigration. Listen, laugh and learn, lovelies.

Whiskies in hand, we go armchair travelling through Paul Theroux's Mexico (and politics), Bill Bryson's England (and humour), and wherever the animals are (and David Attenborough). We consider the combination of social distancing and singing at Joburg Theatre and whether any film has actually ever been scary, or even Sinister. We come out in favour of Favreau (Jon is the money, baby) and his commitment to craft and cooking. And we ask whether The Boss actually needs to be any good to still be admired and try and understand what a direction sounds like. Join us.

We welcome our first in-studio guest in the delightful person of Bronwyn Williams - futurist, trends analyst and catholic reader - who shares her expertise while gamely interrupting as we consider the late Tom Petty's psychological state; senseless brutal acts of kindness; the no-longer-secret lives of peripheral Jane Austen characters; David Lynch peaking viewer interest; the importance of show syndication for actors who've been twiddling their thumbs during lockdown and reminding all in earshot that we still don't have a coffee sponsor. Ahem.

Wide-ranging musings take us from Tiny Desk Concerts, Jason Isbell's concerns about his daughter's fitness for professional yodelling, Dolly Parton being the ideal homework subject and Jeff McErlaine sharing the musical spotlight to strangely coloured literary wildlife, the skankiness of London in Shakespeare's time and Tom Eaton's reasonable and treatises on Things To Be Concerned About Right Now. We also debate just how serious our current social dilemmas are, whether or not Keanu Reeves slapping and slicing people for 130 minutes constitutes art and whether scientists should argue with people who run theme parks. There's also a first play for Bruce's new single "Dreamed You Different", which lyrically considers the trickiness of truly understanding someone you don't see much, and musically leans in the direction of The Jayhawks. 

We're back again. Again. We remember how to plug in the talkie-make-louder thing and press the circle button to start the recordering bit. And we can still, it turns out, talk. Quite a lot. And because it's a reunion, we invite friends. Rosie the dog licks things in inappropriate ways throughout, but honestly, she's done that before. Better behaved is shapely newcomer Martin D18 Golden Era, who is discussed in detail by a besotted Stefan. We then work our way through much of our reading and binge-watching completed under lockdown (that's one way to get through the whole of Game Of Thrones...), before welcoming best-selling author David Mitchell - the Cloud Atlas guy, not the English comedian - who proves to be utterly lovely as we chat about his new novel, Utopia Avenue (the epic, rollicking tale of a late Sixties rock band) in an in-depth interview. Enjoy.

It's been a while, and we're sorry for the break in transmission. Global crises and all that. Bit of a palaver, what? Lurking in lockdown, our perspectives turn to the nature of making art, sharing art and selling art in a situation where everyone, their auntie, their dog and the President is doing a version of the same thing online. We consider, too, that intellectuals writing for audiences of people who may not want to sit through a quadruple lecture on something ending in "ology" might do well to pitch their topic in a more friendly manner - before merrily contradicting ourselves and wondering why smart authors state the obvious in a way unworthy of their intelligence. And there is time for a waltz through what is available to watch upon the Interwebs, from live theatre starring Interdict Cabbagepatch to forgettable medieval tosh starring Superman. It's a quietly wild ride.

Substance over supplication. This is a good thing. Give the people what they need, not what they think they want. It isn't a topic we'd written down, but then we talk about Neil Young's guitar sound and remember exactly how much he doesn't care what you think, and we also notice that he is our hero and incredibly successful anyway. Then we talk about theatre that embraces themes and interpretations that aren't mainstream and are, in spite of not hugging cliches tightly, enjoying revival runs - by popular demand. Take that, marketing kids. We also introduce jingly intro and outro bits and contact details: [email protected] and @TheChorus9 on Twitter. Send ideas, feedback and offers of wads of cash. Lovely.

We go to a concert, and we have some A-ha moments. We appreciate the new. We empathise with the old. Stefan coughs, because he is sick. We bring together two of the most talented singer-songwriters currently working, because that's what you can do in your fantasies. We put melted wax on clothes. On purpose. And we talk about a book in which an author kills off a publisher, retrenches an editor and paints a writer as a psycho. What a Christmas party that must have been. And there's music from up-and-comer Lucas J. The end.