Pin Cushion
There is a little pincushion
On my grandmother’s dressing table.
Soft and red, encased in a square of filigree,
Worn and fragile,
Its box lies open
For all to see.
An heirloom, priceless in sentiment.
Her delicate fingertips still
Stroke the surface to and fro.
Sharp and silver the needle glides past the velour
Padding and rests rigid in between
Scarlet seams, secure.
On Sundays, I pull out the pins,
The cushion can breathe again, for a time.
Embroidered tablecloths and napkins
Are fraying at the edges.
Sewn together by weary hands, they too
Are becoming paler shades
Tales of Childhood
My family are a labyrinth. A myriad of old-fashioned values and reserved profiles. They know how to love and how to lie. There is the woman who has cared for me all my life. A beguiling creature with an unfit disposition. We both coerce ourselves into a daily act of compassion and it wears her down. I pass through it mostly numbed to the sensation. Steady in the knowledge that I could not succumb to this loss if I wanted to.
I rarely see the man who calls me his ‘Iníon uí Danann’. When I was little and he was strong enough, he would balance me on the crook of his foot and swing me round and round until I fell to the floor laughing. There are still moments where he sees the blackness in me. Sometimes he manages to cease the flow of the bile from my eyes and he always tries to mop up any residue.
The twins who live atop the nearest mountain are never to be trusted. They cackle like hags in their white-washed cottages and high-backed thrones. Their mountains are crumbling and every day they disintegrate into the abyss. In time they will lie, withered amongst the mutinous sapphire depths.
These are the ones who have created me. The warm arms that have embraced me. The tendrils that have choked me. The pearls who have wizened me. The love that has ensnared me.
I cannot leave and yet I do not want to stay. I must not become that ghost of a girl.
Album Review: Lungs (Florence & The Machine, 2009)
There are certain things individual to each of us that we simply couldn’t do without. Aside from the basics in life, we all need some form of distraction. Briton, Florence Welch provides quite an intellectual and challenging one for me lately. ‘Lungs’ is the debut offering from Florence & The Machine and so far one of the most impressive albums of 2009.
Offering an eclectic mix of punkish-pop/dance ballads, the album holds allusions to the sound of Kate Bush and Moloko whilst sounding definitively unique. Although she originates from Britain there is no mistaking the Gaelic tones heard throughout in Welch’s voice, particularly on what will be most recognisable as the song from the O2 ad, ‘Cosmic Love’. Perhaps it is this wonderfully blended sound of several different genres of music on the one album that makes ‘Lungs’ such an enjoyable experience.
Opening with the free-spirited ‘Dog Days Are Over’ the lyrics automatically convey that the album is worth a listen. “The horses are coming so you better run/Run fast for your mother and fast for your father/Run for your children/For your sisters and brothers/Leave all your loving, your loving behind/You can’t carry it with you if you want to survive”. Similarly ‘Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up)’ impresses upon the listener the talent that this songstress has whilst appearing effortlessly well-arranged and controlled. ‘I’m Not Calling You A Liar’ and ‘Howl’ provide a softer, balladeer tone whilst ‘Kiss With A Fist’ serves as an entertaining interval before the highlights of the album.
The eerie tones of ‘Girl With One Eye’ are well balanced with witty and poetic lyricisms. Examples include, “I took a knife and cut out her eye/I took it home and watched it wither and die” and “I slipped my hand under her skirt/I said don’t worry it’s not gonna hurt”. ‘Drumming Song’ and ‘Between Two Lungs’ hearken back to the ballad tone that is nicely fulfilled through the album. ‘Cosmic Love’ is one of the many highlights of ‘Lungs’ with its sorrowful, utopian tone – derived from the strumming of a harp – and beautiful lyrics. “I took the stars from my eyes and then I made a map/I knew that somehow I could find my way back/Then I heard your heart beating/You were in the darkness too/So I stayed in the darkness with you.”
Although the album does not utilise literary references, tracks such as ‘My Boy Builds Coffins’ produces heady images that could have come straight out of an Angela Carter novel. Lines such as “My boy builds coffins for the rich and the poor/Kings and queens have all knocked on his door/Beggars and liars, gypsies and thieves/They all come to him ‘cause he’s so eager to please” illustrate the bohemian landscape that this fiery-haired poet has appeared from. The lines “he makes them all day but it’s not just for work and it isn’t for play/…I think it’s a shame, that when each one’s been made he can’t see it again” also demonstrate the profound talent within this artist. To make such a sombre statement about a relatively simple object like a coffin is not only poetic but could earn Welch a status as a truly relevant, contemporary songwriter.
‘Hurricane Drunk’ is a refreshingly upbeat track with a memorable rhythm and main lyric. “I’m going out/I’m gonna drink myself to death/And in the crowd I see you with someone else/I raise my sails cause I know it’s going to hurt”. ‘Blinding’, it could be argued is the most compelling and outstanding track featured on ‘Lungs’. Hauntingly dark, the lyrics convey an image of a woman leaving a destructive relationship. “No kiss, no gentle word could wake me from this slumber/’Til I realise that it was you who held me under”. It is undoubtedly one of the albums highest points in terms of depth and meaning for it’s lyrical content alone “No more calling like a crow for a boy/For a body in the garden/…No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world”. There are inflections of Tori Amos and Enya within the track and it hopefully is the beginning of what Florence Welch will continue to produce in future work.
The final instalment on ‘Lungs’ is the somewhat unusual choice of ‘You’ve Got The Love’. Presumably, this tracks appearance on her debut album is due to the success of the live performance on T4’s Party in the Park, although it seems a strange choice. Considering the wealth of talent contained in the rest of the album’s tracks, the listener could be forgiven for expecting the closing track to be an original recording. On the other hand, the track is performed well and is executed very well live also. As a closing track on ‘Lungs’ though, Welch could have composed a self-penned track which would have left a stronger impression.
In conclusion, ‘Lungs’ is an extremely artistic and skilful debut. Without a doubt, Florence Welch and her well-oiled machine are one of the most promising acts to have emerged in the last few years.
Film Review: Public Enemies (Michael Mann, 2009)
One minute and forty seconds flat. That’s the time it took US outlaw John Dillinger to rob a bank. It’s also the length of time it would take a viewer to realise how truly poor this film is in its portrayal of one of the biggest gangsters who ever lived. Directed by Michael Mann – Thief (1981), Manhunter (1986), The Last of The Mohicans (1996) Heat (1995) – one would expect a certain savvy in terms of production skills but the end product is one of the most underwhelming to be seen onscreen in recent years.
The story documents the true tale of the United States war on crime in the Depression soaked era of the 1930’s. Dillinger and his gang held the country in terror as they successfully plundered the biggest banks in a barrage of shootouts. Dillinger evaded capture not only through his talent and speed at the task at hand but also due to the general publics lack of sympathy with the banks who had catapulted the country into the Great Depression. J. Edgar Hoover declared the need for a nationwide bureau to destroy the most notorious crooks of the time; John Dillinger, Baby Face Nelson and Pretty Boy Floyd. This task was given to Special Agent Melvin Purvis. Dillinger managed to outwit Purvis on numerous occasions until finally he met his demise outside the infamous Biograph Theatre.
The film opens, with Dillinger (Depp) disguised as a prisoner and being lead by his partner John ‘Red’ Hamilton to a penitentiary. The two enter the building only to engage in a violent breakout of the rest of the prisoners who form Dillinger’s gang. This opening sequence is functional in portraying Dillinger’s abilities as a criminal but it fails to provide any form of background for the character. This is a notable flaw seen throughout the film, hence Dillinger and many of the other characters appear somewhat two-dimensional. At the same time as Dillinger’s breakout, Melvin Purvis (Bale) and his team of FBI agents manage to run down Pretty Boy Floyd. This results in Purvis being upgraded to lead in the hunt for Dillinger. The film marks another disappointing turnout from Bale (after Terminator Salvation). It would appear that the success of The Dark Knight may have stunted Bale’s growth and development into what has been overly hyped as a phenomenal onscreen presence. Instead he seems to be relying more and more upon his deep vocals to perform much of his work for him. As Purvis he is just about competent, enabling the audience to despise him and become more endeared to Dillinger. It could be argued that this is more directly due to Depp and his portrayal of Dillinger’s charismatic presence.
Aside from Depp, Marion Cotillard provides an entertaining turn as Billie Frechette, the check-in girl to whom Dillinger becomes devoted. One amusing sequence that occurs when the two meet at a dance centres around the couple being watched closely. Dillinger is aware that everyone present knows who he is whilst Billie feels she is being inspected for her Native-American heritage. Thus, they become the perfect outsider couple with just a touch of cliche surrounding them.
The storyline bumps along, lacking a certain finesse that can be found in other Michael Mann films. For example, when Purvis finds what he believes to be Dillinger’s hotel room,bursting in on an ordinary looking couple, there is a fragmented delay between the instance when Purvis makes his apologies, leaves and then discovers one half of the couple is a wanted member of Dillinger’s gang. The failure to eliminate Dillinger in this sequence results in Purvis demanding to be equipped with professionals who can hunt criminals dead or alive.
Another memorable scene occurs towards the end of the film. Dillinger’s trademark is one of invincibility, a status that is seen when he strolls through the ‘Dillinger Squad’, the unit of Purvis’ police force that is hunting him. Here he freely views all the information that has been gathered on him and his gang whilst the officers within the room fail to recognise him. Depp carries the scene with enough charisma to portray a frighteningly accurate representation of Dillinger’s arrogance. Similarly when Dillinger’s girlfriend Billie is captured before his eyes and he can do nothing to save her, the viewer is introduced to the vulnerable side of the outlaw.
Cotillard’s performance as Billie mirrors that of Depp. The interrogation and abuse she suffers at the hands of Purvis’ men is harrowing to watch and although the gangsters fate is inevitable, there are moments where it seems as though he may slip through the radar yet again. This of course is not the case and sadly Michael Mann chose to depict Dillinger’s death in a similarly bland manner to the rest of the film.
Perhaps the biggest flaw in Public Enemies is the sheer romanticisation in the director’s portrayal of one of the bloodiest men in history and his gangmembers. Michael Mann has not brought his viewers the tour de force that the trailers promise, instead Public Enemies is a watered-down love story that fails to resonate. One would think it was not necessary to highlight that Dillinger was not a thoroughly loveable rogue yet, this is how he appears and the atrocities he carries out are not emphasised enough. On leaving the cinema, there was an undeniable confusion and an aura of disappointment. The film is at times, attempting to be a more violent, modern-day Bonnie & Clyde and it fails on both counts. Overall, had Depp and Cotillard not provided such entertaining profiles, Michael Mann may have had a disaster on his hands.
The end titles of the film inform us of the aftermath for Purvis and Billie and this method of storytelling itself is quite frustrating. Not only is the viewer not given any background on the main characters (aside from Billie) but the end of the characters lives is told through a mere sentence on the screen. There are enough books written on Dillinger for select research on specific characters if they spectating public would prefer this. Perhaps Mann would be more suited to this method of storytelling if he no longer finds it necessary to depict his characters through motion pictures.
Album Review: Delusions of Grandeur (Jonny Mernagh, 2007)
It is rare nowadays that a musician exhibits the potential for good lyricism through the vernacular. Welshman, Jonny Mernagh, manages to do just this in his debut effort ‘Delusions of Grandeur’. The album displays an nice acoustic blend akin to the sounds of the late 1960’s tradition of rock. There are inflections of jazz and blues throughout the album’s tone as well as a nod to the style of rock in the early 90’s .
As an opening track, ‘No Man’s Land’ creates a lasting impression of what is to follow on the album. The musical composition seems nicely-thought out and creates a subtle background for the lyrics. The track has a propensity to convey the notion of searching for answers within an emotional haze of confusion and loss. This idea reappears throughout the ten track listing in various facets. ‘Colours of Autumn’ introduces the visual and colourful side of ‘Delusions of Grandeur’. Reflective and self-aware, the song is both despondent yet hopeful especially in the mentioning of ‘the endless autumn air’.
‘Maybe I’d Miss You’ allows for a certain aptitude with the vernacular to come to the forefront. The next offering ‘Hooked On You’ is perhaps one of the most promising tracks on the album. With it’s light, joyful tone it is both easy-listening and catchy. Musically, the arrangement is reminiscent of early 90’s rock. The most notable quality of this track are the vocals. Although unique, the raw, gravel-esque tones connote inflections of a young Kelly Jones. This quality is also heard in ‘Hold That Smile’. The repetition of the lyric ‘as long as I’ve got self-belief/I will just survive’ creates a despondence that is lifted towards the end of the song, particularly in the title. A liberated aura surrounds the track, especially in the closing line ‘hold that smile forever’.
The theme of visualisation within the album continues with ‘Another Broken Heart’. The track highlights the influence of colour and art on Mernagh’s work. Alluding to various professions and humanities, the track emits a clear adoration on the artist’s part for his craft. Following on from this is the appropriately named ‘Shades of Green’. This track is rather interesting for its use of a specific colour, particularly an earth colour and one traditionally linked with envy. The mention of ‘the fountain/beyond the wishing-well’ implies an allusion to the search for luck and contentment. Similarly, ‘Shine On’ is visually thought provoking. The guitar riff is simple yet contributes aptly to the vocals. Here, Mernagh forges his easy articulation as something of a trademark. The song becomes slightly dizzying towards the very end – one gets the feeling that this was the desired effect – and creates a sense of strength that emanates from the track.
A highlight of the album is ‘Lost’, a track that hearkens back to a long-lost era of classic songwriting. Musically, the tone is soothingly listenable. The album closes with the track ‘Farewell’ a nicely honed ode to the cessation of life and it’s hurdles.
To say that ‘Delusions of Grandeur’ sounds like anyone else would be a misrepresentation. Instead, it is a new and intriguing sound. Mernagh’s voice is infused with a rawness that is counteraacted by an underlying softer tone. The occasional strains of a latter-day John Lennon to be heard within his vocals are quite promising. As a debut album, ‘Delusions of Grandeur’ is impressive for its harmonious structure as well as the multi-faceted lyricism that is omnipresent.
Overall, it is clear that this is an artist who loves his craft and has contributed a quality to it. ‘Delusions of Grandeur’ is a fine achievement and casts a challenge for Mernagh’s next offering ‘The Hour Glass’.
Album Review: The Kick Inside (Kate Bush, 1978)
With a music career that has spanned over 30 years, Kate Bush is one of the few remaining stars who has exerted almost complete self-control over her work. Considering that all the tracks on her debut album The Kick Inside are written by Bush, one gets the impression that this is an artist who truly understands her craft. Furthermore, the reluctance to perform live is also suggested to be based on her desire for perfection in the end product. There is a sense of autonomy first perceived by the albums cover artwork depicting Bush perched on a swing in front of a large eyeball with an oriental theme prevailing. This strong imagery is consistent throughout the 13 track compilation.
The album opens with the hauntingly quaint ‘Moving’. Here, the listener is introduced to a common ‘coming-of-age’ thread found in much of Bush’s work. The song seems to portray unrequited love in youth, a notion particularly well highlighted in the lyric, ‘Please don’t let me go/You crush the lily in my soul’.
‘The Saxophone Song’ is rather disappointing, especially if one is well acquainted with successive Bush albums. The musical arrangement is somewhat dizzying towards the end of the track and Bush’s voice becomes lost amidst a sea of horns. The following track ‘Strange Phenomena’ has been referred to as ‘a frank paean to menstruation’. The lyric ‘Soon it will be the phase of the moon/When people tune in/Every girl knows about the punctual blues’ certainly provides fodder for such a label. Although it is a bearable track, Bush is capable of far better produce.
‘Kite’ is one such memorable track on the album. With it’s uplifting beat and witty lyrics, it is here that a marked difference in the albums progress appears. Bush utilises her voice to the very best of its ability and exhibits a tonal range and speed that is enviable. The album matriculates along with Bush’s voice to a steadier and more mature niche with ‘The Man With The Child In His Eyes’. Although the tone rarely alters throughout the song, the sense of calmness, control and confidence emanates so smoothly.
‘Wuthering Heights’, perhaps Bush’s most played and well known track details the doomed relationship of Emily Bronte’s, Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff. Aside from its popularity as a mainstream track, ‘Wuthering Heights’ is arguably one of Bush’s most important songs for its video. Bush makes full use of her theatrical talent to recreate the scene of Cathy’s devastation and need for Heathcliff, in the simplest of forms. A fan of interpretive dance, Bush is well regarded for her use of cinematic and literary references. Thus, it would seem the novel of the songs title was a perfect vessel for her form of expression.
‘James and the Cold Gun’ and ‘Feel It’ are pleasantly easy listening, with the latter providing a subtle erotic twist to an otherwise reflective album. Bush allows her knack for simple yet clever lyricism to shine through in ‘Oh To Be In Love’, a track which denotes tones of Shakespearean theatre. ‘L’amour Looks Something Like You’ is reminiscent of the earlier ‘Feel It’ and leads into an outstanding track ‘Them Heavy People’. This is by far one of Kate Bush’s most overlooked tracks annd like ‘Wuthering Heights’ the lyrics are remarkable for the sheer amount of literary references she manages to mention in the 3 minute duration. Speaking of the many people who have influenced her career the lyrics ‘I must work on my mind/For now I realise/Every one of us/Has a heaven inside’ convey a fine sense of humility mixed with a tongue-in-cheek retort of ‘Them Heavy People hit me in a soft spot/Them Heavy People help me’.
The litany of references is most concise in relating to the dramatic streak within Bush when she mentions how ‘They read me Gurdjieff and Jesu’. Armenian mystic Gurdjieff, most famous for his idea of ‘The Work’ which was connoting work on oneself and being self-aware is an obvious choice for inclusion in such a song. Gurdjief’s ideas not only surface in this particular Bush song, it is a philosophy she appears to have adopted throughout her career and thus has become somewhat autonomous. The track finishes with the repetition of the lyric ‘Rollin’ and rollin’ and rollin’ and rollin’ ah-’, a nod to the many teachers in her life who have given her an opportunity at expression.
The last two tracks on The Kick Inside ‘Room For The Life’ and ‘The Kick Inside’ are rather unremarkable. They bring the album to a settled and melodic end but are not particularly memorable tracks.
Overall ‘The Kick Inside’ as a debut album is an excellent record of music and lyrics combined. Bush does not let herself down in any area and consolidates her reputation as an outstanding lyricist. In retrospect of her now thiry-year career, ‘The Kick Inside’ made the way for what would be an eclectic and stunning discography. Remembering that Bush was only 19 when this album was relelased in 1978, it is a further reminder of just how talented this artist is and always was. With a musical canon that would go on to be one of the most noted in history, Bush at this point had only given the world a taste of what she could actually do.
Film Review: Terminator: Salvation (Director: McG, 2009)
Every once in a while, a film emerges from the depths of a studio that is so original, groundbreakingly brilliant and skillfully made that it breaks all previously held conceptions about movie-making. Terminator Salvation is not any of these things. It is not groundbreakingly brilliant or likely to make a mind-blowing impact on the viewer. What it does do is provide a plausible and entertaining sequel to Terminator 2 (I refuse to believe that Terminator 3 exists – what were they thinking?)
The basic plot of Salvation surrounds the character of murderer, Marcus Wright. A meeting with Dr. Serena Kogan (Helena Bonham Carter) before his execution results in Wright donating his body for medical research. Unknowingly, he has donated his corpse to Cyberdene Systems who are responsible for the creation of the Skynet system. Skynet, perceiving humans as a threat to its own existence, sets out to eradicate humanity in an overly cliched event named Judgement Day. Wright awakens in the year 2018 to discover that he is a cyborg with human organs, thus John Connor (Bale) must decide whether Wright is his enemy or part of the solution to stopping Skynets plans.
Salvation struggles at times to offer a fully coherent storyline and attempts to cover this by exhibiting somewhat deafening sound effects. Aside from this, the plot grows quite rapidly and at times is remarkably clever. The fourth instalment notably does very little to deepen the character of John Connor, rather it makes way for the talents of Sam Worthington as Marcus Wright. While the film lacks a certain finesse in parts, Worthington’s acting manages to retain a certain glory, especially when he realises he has been tricked by Dr Kogan (Bonham Carter).
I found Christian Bale unsavoury, an unusual contribution from a normally ingenious actor. After his predicted success in The Dark Knight, Bale has created an expectation and calibre for his successive movies. In Salvation, he does not so much dissappoint as he does lack an expected on-screen presence.
Overall, Terminator Salvation is a plausible and well-conceived sequel to the first two Terminator films. There is a feeling at the end of the film that the franchise is being milked to the very nth degree as John Connor’s final transmission to the Human Resistance states that the war is not over. Who knows, perhaps the next instalment will further the impact made by Salvation. In my opinion, the ending of the current release could have been tweaked to bring the franchise to a conclusion rather than leave the door to a possibly disastrous follow-up widely ajar!
I like ink, do you?
Come drown yourself in ink. Wash the day away in a night fuelled with powerful inky toxins. We have all types of ink down here, all colours of the rainbow, every type of fluidity. The man in the corner shop says the fountain ones would suit me best. They are long and narrow and have inflections of Shakespeare. If he says it, it must be true.
My tool of choice is long, narrow and a gaunt shade of silver. Reflections of light beam out from it’s barrel. I first saw it in the corner shop. Neatly aligned under Greta Garbo’s chin, it shone like a beacon that would brighten my lighthouse. I knew then it was the one.
Reverie forms little digression, so Garbo told me while we argued over the wonder that was Ninothcka. She said she liked my eyes in the light, all smoke and mirrors. No life there.
Come drown your sorrows in ink with me and I’ll give you every penny I have. It’s all a ruse and a game, the eyes that is. There’s no life behind them.
Family Ties – Bonds of Love and Despair
My mother’s mother was an enigma. A strange labyrinth of conservative manners mixed with confusion and despair. Her breath was layered with the scent of toffee and Elizabeth Arden. A first impression would convey that she was meant for better things and somehow lost her way in the world. Confined to a house in an area that disagreed with her convictions, yet I never noticed her sadness. It was after the children were born that resentment set her in her ways. I would sit on her bed as she scurried through the wardrobes, gargantuam as they were, searching for a new nook to house another pair of shoes. Her numerous perfume bottles, exotic, foreign, aligned like soldiers atop her dresser. On Sundays the light from the sun made the glass bottles glisten and shine a ray of rainbow colours across the tiny room. I knew her well. At least I think I did. It was a traditional sense of knowing. Most evenings spent with her involved spending time with her favourites and their own individual characteristics. Even now I think she loved John Wayne and his walk more than any of the others.
I too smell of Elizabeth Arden and align my scents in the same battle line as she. I never saw her drink but I know she did. I wonder at times do we drink for the same reasons. She had more cause than I. My grandmother, that poised yet decadent woman who remains etched in my memories, in the rooms of my house, beside my mother in my father’s car. I see some of myself in her and it frightens me. Her harshness, morals set slightly askew by a life led in a haze of confusion and her weak health. I have the same face as her. Helped by my fathers eyes and my mother’s hair.
She was entirely different to my grandfather. A quiet and reserved man, he disliked raucousness and unexplained decadence. A holy figurehead, he and I were not close until shortly before his death. He would smoke at Christmas only. My father would bring him a cigar and they would talk unaware of my presence behind the couch. He always dressed smart and would take me for long walks to Bray and Tara. He believed in the innocence of the church. My silence on the subject always spoke louder than his advocations about De Valera. He always respected me. It was an unspoken truth between us that an unwavering respect was mutual between us alone. He would tell me stories about Stalin, the Mao dynasty and about his early life. It was only when he died that I fully grasped why he and my grandmother were inseparable. Drawn to each other for their inadequacies, they managed to fuflfil a need within the other. I often wonder if she had not been dying when they met would they have forged such a union. My grandfather was forgiving of her tantrums and demands. His knowledge was insurmountable and I wish I had known him better.
Diseases of the mind and heart claimed my grandmother earlier than they should have. I know she died in pain despite what they tell me. The torment of that last year was engraved on her face in the mortuary. All the things she wanted to say and do but her body would not allow. I pitied her affliction this time in particular. The third time is the most difficult. My grandfather never recovered. He died unhappy as he was in life but managed not to show it. Never showing it.
I think I have inherited my grandmother’s impetousness and my grandfather’s manners. Possibly, there is a small part of his gumption and endurance within me.
Are personalities genetic? Do we inherit characteristics or are they learned through life? There are moments where I believe they are in me from a younger age and then I detest the notion of being like them. In other people, such characteristics can be withstood, dealt with, ignored but in oneself they can manifest into self-loathing and hatred. Trying to strike a balance between respecting those related to you for being familial and understanding where they have come from is the difficulty. I look at their trials and times of trouble and I realise that I exhault these people for coming through it. They may not have done it all with elegance but they survived. They are impressive in my memory for never having given up.
I have giants to live up to. Or perhaps I just don’t want to think of myself as a dwarf anymore.
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