GAH.
First off, my terrible insomnia problem strikes yet again. After spending nearly an hour trying to fall asleep, I took out my iPod and picked a random song to listen to. Having loaded up the RetroActive 5 compilation because of its Seona Dancing, Strange Advance, Blancmange, and Psychedelic Furs remix components, I was surprised to find my iPod start to play one of the songs off the compilation I had never heard before: "The Picture" by Hubert Kah. I had never even heard of Hubert Kah before, but it sounded European so I figured, eh, it should be good for a trial.
This is one of those kinds of songs I obsess over. It happens every now and again -- one of the more recent and memorable occasions happened when I latched so strongly onto "Alles Klar" by Ultravox that I could not get enough of it, even after playing it some 25 times in a row on two separate occasions, in as many days. I committed myself to learning every nuance, every corner, ever nook and cranny of that wonderful, haunting instrumental. Eventually I got my fill, but not without playing it some 100 times in a one-week span. "The Picture" has that very quality.
First off, I will admit to having my weak points. Icy cold synth lines? Check. Minimalist bass sound? Check. Delicate yet highly urgent staccato rhythm that evokes a sort of Italo disco influence/sound? Check. Very Continental European breathy synth-dance male vocals? Check. "The Picture" has all of the above. "The Picture" evokes nearly all of my weaknesses. It even makes good use of a church bell sound effect that also evokes a cold Europeanness to the track's overall atmosphere, that makes it even that much more appealing to me. Even the rock guitar solo toward the middle of the song, something I don't generally go for, has a sort of detached passivity in its very being that makes it not so much a macho act but rather something that helps drive the song along.
I was roused enough by this song to jump out of bed and do a quick Google search for more information, where I found my European suspicious confirmed. Hubert Kah were apparently a German synth group that existed as recently as the late '90s, though I didn't really check too close to see when their latest recordings were released. The band released the original track from whence "The Picture" sprung forth, "Wenn Der Mond Die Sonne", in 1984, and I imagine "The Picture" was released not long after that. And -- oh, the shame -- it (the English-language version of the song) even appeared on the soundtrack of the critically-panned (for good reason, I've been reliably told) mid '80s flick Once Bitten. What is it with crap mid '80s movies and great songs therein? No one can honestly say that the Rodney Dangerfield vehicle Back To School was good even as a "so bad it's brilliant" type movie, yet its soundtrack featured the utterly breathtakingly great "Dead Man's Party" by Oingo Boingo.
As of yet I still really don't know all that much about Hubert Kah except that the band members were German, their producer and "arranger" (don't know what exactly that means) was from Bucharest, Romania (yay Romanians!), they wrote songs for other people, presumably German pop stars, and the great majority of their output was written in German, as befit their target demographic and largest audience. Unlike their fellow Germans in Alphaville, they apparently either had no real designs for the international, English-speaking marketplace, or their music (this would be sad if it were true) didn't take off and they ended up retreating back to their German roots.
Oh well then. The damage has been done. I am swooningly in love with YET ANOTHER SONG and I will have to play this song at least 100 times this week before I get my fill, I'm sure. And now I know I can't sleep. I have to listen to this song some more. It's gripping me so very tightly and pulling me away from my slumber and into its hypnotic vortex. This is how it all gets started, people.
Edit: OH MY GOD this track features the LINN DRUM. THE LINN DRUM, people, the synth drum that delivered that oh-so-'80s percussion sound that I ADORE. And the rhythm isn't so much staccato-ish on the surface as it is, um, restrained. But there IS a rhythmic synth sound that lays sorta in the background that IS staccato-ish, that does provide the track with some of its danceable drive and energy. But -- THE LINN DRUM! I wonder now if the synths on this track are Fairlights. They could be. OMG what if they are?? Especially if the synths were Fairlight CMIs. Then I'd know for sure it was destiny that I fell in love with this track. Either that or that I was awfully predictable. Heh.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Strange Advance And The Prog vs. Glam Debate
Remind me to go more into depth with that last blog post. I feel there are still major holes that need to be paved over in order for me to be able to fully flesh out the message/manifesto I was trying to convey.
Anyway.
A couple of blog posts back, I mentioned some Canadian New Wave artists whom I felt either deserved a critical re-examination or who were great fun to listen to. One of the ones I lumped into the former category was this group called Strange Advance, out of Vancouver. Formed by Darryl Kromm and Drew Arnott in 1981 from the ashes of a project the two veteran musicians (since 1974 at least) had also been a part of, the band's life span was, like an unstable isotope, quick but with an almost violent energy. Their popularity skyrocketed in Canada from 1983 - 1985 before screeching to a halt and taking a very noticeable nosedive. Interestingly enough, the band suffered a temporary but poignant setback at the beginning of that run when Kromm's father suddenly passed away, and two of the musicians involved with the group drifted away to form their own group, Images In Vogue (hence the artsy subtlety evidenced in both groups).
Before I had heard a single Strange Advance song, back when I was finding out about "obscure" New Wave artists, I saw an article where the group was described as being "a mixture of prog and New Wave". This temporarily put me off wanting to listen to any of their music because I have never been particularly enamored with the prog rock genre. To me it consists of nothing more than an endless array of noodling and instrumentation that goes absolutely nowhere. Think of Boston as your archetypical prog rock group; their recordings lasted seven minutes long on average, and they were noted for extremely lengthy instrumental solos during their live performances. I quickly grow impatient with that kind of meandering nonsense and am very wary of any artist that claims to be even remotely prog. But then I eventually found myself listening to one of their songs ("Love Games") and realized something -- their music wasn't prog at all.
See, I found that Strange Advance performed music that was highly orchestrated, that reached into the stratosphere. Meaning its roots were not in prog but in another rock music phenomenon of the '70s, glam rock. Indeed, "Love Games" is filled to the brim with the indelible influence of David Bowie. "World's Away", their big instrumental, wouldn't sound out of place in a sea of Roxy Music songs. "Home Of The Brave" owes its melodramatic atmosphere to Queen. And some of the guitar lines in some of Strange Advance's rockier songs owe an obvious debt of gratitude to Slade. Indeed, this would fit in with the group's general musical trajectory, coming as it does from a time and a place where glam was king.
I wrote down some notes for this entry at work during lunch and at that time one phrase stuck in my head: "orchestral euphoria". I deduced that that was the key musical difference between glam rock and prog rock. Glam was self-indulgent without being selfish; the musicians might have been having fun building ladders in the sky with gossamer and lace, but at least they did it so they could take the listener on a trip up to the heavens. On the other hand, prog rock floated up high above the earth just to showcase the supposed musicianship of the person playing the instrument. These people sought to be worshipped by the peons down below. And that's where "orchestral euphoria" comes in. See, Queen could be a good example of "orchestral euphoria": multilayered, almost symphonic musical compositions that sought to lift the music listener's spirits. Witness the residual feeling of sheer delight one gets from listening to a Queen song. Then contrast that feeling to the feeling one gets after listening to too much classic rock radio, filled as it is with endless marathons of prog musicians who composed complex instrument lines purely as a method of metaphorical dick-waving, with their instrument used as an extension of their manhood.
Which brings me back to Strange Advance. Their songs don't carry the mark of musicians who are engaged in a battle of "mine's bigger/better than yours" but rather hints of that "orchestral euphoria" mentioned above. Even their most OTT song, "I'll Be The One To Cry", tries so very hard to take the listener along for its magic carpet ride. That is why I feel that it is incorrect to label Strange Advance, or indeed any musical artist who could be credibly slotted into the New Wave category, as being even remotely related to prog. Strange Advance is an example of glam rock meets New Wave, of Ziggy Stardust communicating with Blondie and Elvis Costello and coming up with a formula that works. Tell Major Tom it's okay.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
My Music Theory: Pop Culture, Disenfranchisement, and New Pop
I have been avoiding this blog recently. After recovering from a particularly difficult few days at last week's end and after finding nothing particularly worth mentioning, it's been a challenge trying to figure out what the next topic of discussion would be. So my task to you is to do some brainstorming: What do you like from the world of New Pop/synthpop? What '80s fashions do you find yourself missing? Any '80s TV/movies fill you with a sense of hope and wonder and excitement (or at least provide you with some substantive thrills)? Pls to mention them here kthx.
Another thing I've been thinking of, and this one's a general one: In times of deepest turmoil, the popular culture often becomes more exciting, more revolutionary, more original. Think of the first British Invasion. The artists and musicians involved in that scene were born at the height of World War II during the Blitz and other bombing campaigns directly targeting the U.K., and spent most of their childhoods living through a period of rationing that didn't end in Britain until ca. 1956. The period of rebuilding after the war likely took longer. So when these children of the destruction heard the barebones workings of primitive early rock & roll, they took that sound and turned it into something catchier, more refined, and poppier, as a subconscious attempt at reworking an immature sound into something more grown-up.
Fast-forward a couple of decades and witness the participants in the so-called Second British Invasion. At the time these artists were recording music, their government was ensnarled in the Falklands conflicts, their economy was in a deep recession, everyone feared the results of a mega-clash between the two sides of the Cold War, and people routinely had nightmares about nuclear strikes wiping out the planet. So in one of the most rebellious statements ever made, these artists combined elements of post-punk, classic New Wave, '60s pop, disco, and funk, and blended them all together to craft a sound that was poppy, peppy, and full of energy. It did not dare mess around by meandering about -- it was straight to the point. Showoffs and musical wankery were both despised and reviled, and bland, naive statements of "we can change the world!" were replaced by oblique lyrics full of imagery as the artists thumbed their noses at easy solutions to difficult times. They figured: Why the hell try to change things when they can only ever be unchangeable? We will choose to live out our days here with as much zeal and gusto as we can, and we will never let the difficult times get to us. Witness the quote from Simon Le Bon -- "We want to be the band that people dance to as the bomb drops." Detractors might view this as nihilism at its most obnoxious, but a realist can and should only view this as the only proper way to go.
Contrast the above with times of relative peace and prosperity, particularly in America, when global issues didn't really start to hit home until the late 1970s. Early '70s American radio played never-ending marathons of the Captain and Tenille, Loggins and Messina, Cat Stevens, Al Stewart, and other artists who were safe, bland, anonymous, dispassionate, almost bucolic. In the mid '70s the arena rocker ruled American airwaves, their musical wankery and pomposity matching the free-wheeling, bombastic spirit of the Me Generation at its selfish and self-centered prime. The soundtrack to the movie FM showcases the worst collaboration between the two aforementioned periods of popular American music, at a time when the only positive American contribution to popular music from 1970 to the present, disco music, was already utilizing the exciting advances in musical technology. In other words, they were quick to welcome the synth.
Disco music is, in fact, the exception that proves the rule. A musical genre whose target audience involved the disenfranchised in American society -- gays and lesbians, transgendered people, racial and ethnic minorities, and women -- its pulsating rhythms and willingness to lead the listener/dancer into a state of oblivion provided a revolutionary wake-up call to groups of individuals who were accustomed to living life on the periphery. The dance floor became a target for pent-up energy and frustration, and it allowed these people to join in with a global community of dancers, artists, and other fabulous people, who all feasted upon the ferocious energy boost that disco gave them. By the end of the 1970s, all of these groups sublimated disco into their consciousness and, though circumstances forced disco to remain underground in the U.S., it never really died off.
The aforementioned circumstances involved anti-disco chants and rants that were more often than not mere window dressings for bigoted thought processes that resided below the surface of the obnoxious young, Caucasian, suburban males who shouted "Death to disco." A few years later, these same men, all grown up and now a part of the power structure in America, targeted the premier element of the Second British Invasion, New Pop (synthpop), and hissed stereotyped and vaguely homophobic remarks in an (eventually successful) effort to wipe the American popular music slate clean of these artists who dared to challenge the dominant musical paradigm. Tying this all back to the original theory, New Pop helped provide entertainment for another group that was effectively disenfranchised in the early to mid '80s -- young teenaged girls. It is telling that only one filmmaker throughout this time spoke the teenaged girls' lexicon: John Hughes, who also made movies for teenaged boys (but with an enlightened spirit that did not objectify the girls therein). These girls, who were also continually frightened by the thought of nuclear war and who were hearing in the news stories of this relatively new phenomenon called "global terrorism", whose main target happened to be U.S. interests, sought New Pop for the same reasons that the men and the women out on the dance floor ca. 1977 sought out disco.
So I suppose, having said all that, that it's no surprise that I too would get wrapped up in New Pop. Since its original purpose was to provide an outlet for young women whose voices weren't being heard or represented in the mainstream, it fits with my own life story. As an American Latina who "came of age" in the 1990s, I can recall not seeing anything in the media that told my own story. The only members of "la raza" who took part in mass media were still the bit players -- the key grips, the best boys, the carpenters, and the like. I cannot recall a single TV or movie star throughout the whole of that decade who looked like me or a member of my family. The music of that time period also did not speak for me. Alternative rock was for the white kids in the suburbs (though as someone who tried so very hard to be white, I did do a good job of mimicking interest in the genre). Rap and hip-hop were for African Americans, whose voices were being heard loud and clear. Dance took on a European flair but quickly became mired in its own repetitiveness; it was more for the drugged-up dancers than for any music listener. Country? I don't think so. So my music-seeking ears picked up very quickly on a genre that had already proven itself to be an effective voice for those without one, and I almost immediately fell in love with New Pop. The highly tailored androgyny spoke well to me in a time when the popular young male pop cultural figures appeared slovenly and full of machismo, and the thoughtful artsiness of the video clips held up very well when compared to the banal performance clips that filled '90s music video television programming.
But I'm going to have to think about this theory of mine some more. I don't know if it's fully fleshed out enough. It does appear to solve a lot of puzzles, though. And I'm hoping that maybe, if it does work out, it will go far in explaining why it is I was drawn to what I was drawn to, even though I've been told for fifteen years that I'm not "supposed" to be drawn to it, either for popularity or critical reasons.
Another thing I've been thinking of, and this one's a general one: In times of deepest turmoil, the popular culture often becomes more exciting, more revolutionary, more original. Think of the first British Invasion. The artists and musicians involved in that scene were born at the height of World War II during the Blitz and other bombing campaigns directly targeting the U.K., and spent most of their childhoods living through a period of rationing that didn't end in Britain until ca. 1956. The period of rebuilding after the war likely took longer. So when these children of the destruction heard the barebones workings of primitive early rock & roll, they took that sound and turned it into something catchier, more refined, and poppier, as a subconscious attempt at reworking an immature sound into something more grown-up.
Fast-forward a couple of decades and witness the participants in the so-called Second British Invasion. At the time these artists were recording music, their government was ensnarled in the Falklands conflicts, their economy was in a deep recession, everyone feared the results of a mega-clash between the two sides of the Cold War, and people routinely had nightmares about nuclear strikes wiping out the planet. So in one of the most rebellious statements ever made, these artists combined elements of post-punk, classic New Wave, '60s pop, disco, and funk, and blended them all together to craft a sound that was poppy, peppy, and full of energy. It did not dare mess around by meandering about -- it was straight to the point. Showoffs and musical wankery were both despised and reviled, and bland, naive statements of "we can change the world!" were replaced by oblique lyrics full of imagery as the artists thumbed their noses at easy solutions to difficult times. They figured: Why the hell try to change things when they can only ever be unchangeable? We will choose to live out our days here with as much zeal and gusto as we can, and we will never let the difficult times get to us. Witness the quote from Simon Le Bon -- "We want to be the band that people dance to as the bomb drops." Detractors might view this as nihilism at its most obnoxious, but a realist can and should only view this as the only proper way to go.
Contrast the above with times of relative peace and prosperity, particularly in America, when global issues didn't really start to hit home until the late 1970s. Early '70s American radio played never-ending marathons of the Captain and Tenille, Loggins and Messina, Cat Stevens, Al Stewart, and other artists who were safe, bland, anonymous, dispassionate, almost bucolic. In the mid '70s the arena rocker ruled American airwaves, their musical wankery and pomposity matching the free-wheeling, bombastic spirit of the Me Generation at its selfish and self-centered prime. The soundtrack to the movie FM showcases the worst collaboration between the two aforementioned periods of popular American music, at a time when the only positive American contribution to popular music from 1970 to the present, disco music, was already utilizing the exciting advances in musical technology. In other words, they were quick to welcome the synth.
Disco music is, in fact, the exception that proves the rule. A musical genre whose target audience involved the disenfranchised in American society -- gays and lesbians, transgendered people, racial and ethnic minorities, and women -- its pulsating rhythms and willingness to lead the listener/dancer into a state of oblivion provided a revolutionary wake-up call to groups of individuals who were accustomed to living life on the periphery. The dance floor became a target for pent-up energy and frustration, and it allowed these people to join in with a global community of dancers, artists, and other fabulous people, who all feasted upon the ferocious energy boost that disco gave them. By the end of the 1970s, all of these groups sublimated disco into their consciousness and, though circumstances forced disco to remain underground in the U.S., it never really died off.
The aforementioned circumstances involved anti-disco chants and rants that were more often than not mere window dressings for bigoted thought processes that resided below the surface of the obnoxious young, Caucasian, suburban males who shouted "Death to disco." A few years later, these same men, all grown up and now a part of the power structure in America, targeted the premier element of the Second British Invasion, New Pop (synthpop), and hissed stereotyped and vaguely homophobic remarks in an (eventually successful) effort to wipe the American popular music slate clean of these artists who dared to challenge the dominant musical paradigm. Tying this all back to the original theory, New Pop helped provide entertainment for another group that was effectively disenfranchised in the early to mid '80s -- young teenaged girls. It is telling that only one filmmaker throughout this time spoke the teenaged girls' lexicon: John Hughes, who also made movies for teenaged boys (but with an enlightened spirit that did not objectify the girls therein). These girls, who were also continually frightened by the thought of nuclear war and who were hearing in the news stories of this relatively new phenomenon called "global terrorism", whose main target happened to be U.S. interests, sought New Pop for the same reasons that the men and the women out on the dance floor ca. 1977 sought out disco.
So I suppose, having said all that, that it's no surprise that I too would get wrapped up in New Pop. Since its original purpose was to provide an outlet for young women whose voices weren't being heard or represented in the mainstream, it fits with my own life story. As an American Latina who "came of age" in the 1990s, I can recall not seeing anything in the media that told my own story. The only members of "la raza" who took part in mass media were still the bit players -- the key grips, the best boys, the carpenters, and the like. I cannot recall a single TV or movie star throughout the whole of that decade who looked like me or a member of my family. The music of that time period also did not speak for me. Alternative rock was for the white kids in the suburbs (though as someone who tried so very hard to be white, I did do a good job of mimicking interest in the genre). Rap and hip-hop were for African Americans, whose voices were being heard loud and clear. Dance took on a European flair but quickly became mired in its own repetitiveness; it was more for the drugged-up dancers than for any music listener. Country? I don't think so. So my music-seeking ears picked up very quickly on a genre that had already proven itself to be an effective voice for those without one, and I almost immediately fell in love with New Pop. The highly tailored androgyny spoke well to me in a time when the popular young male pop cultural figures appeared slovenly and full of machismo, and the thoughtful artsiness of the video clips held up very well when compared to the banal performance clips that filled '90s music video television programming.
But I'm going to have to think about this theory of mine some more. I don't know if it's fully fleshed out enough. It does appear to solve a lot of puzzles, though. And I'm hoping that maybe, if it does work out, it will go far in explaining why it is I was drawn to what I was drawn to, even though I've been told for fifteen years that I'm not "supposed" to be drawn to it, either for popularity or critical reasons.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
In A Big Country: Canadian New Wave
At last, a difficult period that ended up lasting me a little under 48 hours is over and done with. My reward is to expostulate on something here on this blog (almost called it a "journal").
What should I talk about now? Maybe I should reveal the name of another track I listened to on that '80s Internet radio program I also discovered (for myself, obv) The Armoury Show's "The Glory Of Love" on, i.e. "Railways" by Kitchens Of Distinction. But having found that the Kitchens Of Distinction were known as sort of a "shoegaze"-type group with a lot of underground critical acceptance, I decided their aesthetic doesn't really fit the overall scene of this blog, though that song did sound really nice in a sort of "imagine the perfect scenario of being in college in 1988 and listening to the most far-out 'modern rock' on the campus radio station" way. I would've totally been okay with being "indie" had it worked out that I'd have been "indie" in the late '80s, after experiencing the joys of super-anthemic synthpop. However, since things DIDN'T end up working out that way and I was thrown into a scenario where "college radio" rock was pretty much more of the same shit I'd been apathetic about (to say the least) since my early adolescence, the indie scene will never gel for me, no matter how many indie acts try now to ape the sound of the early '80s.
So where do these answers lie? Where shall I go? I can always try to rebel by reaching out for something that is completely antithetical to that pristine, serene, intellectual scene, something whose aesthetic is completely everything stereotypically gauche about the '80s without being to the point where even I would roll my eyes and go, "Oh dear Lord, what are they on about?" So no Poison, no Crue, not Ratt or Whitesnake or what have you from the "hair metal"oids whose primary goal was just to score some chicks and booze on the Sunset Strip. No, I think I shall have to look up at the Great White North for my anti-college rock rebellion to be soundtracked.
Yep, that's right. O Canada....
One of the first Canadian artists I can think of for the purpose I seek is the truly cheesy Platinum Blonde. Ah yes, the group led by one former Brit (and boy was it a surprise to find that out) named Mark Holmes and featuring some of the most laughable "mall rat" hairstyles ever showcased on a masculine head, this group did manage to create some pretty sweet tunes. Everyone can recall "Crying Over You" with its big '80s rock sound, all machismo and swagger on the surface but candy-flavored nougat on the inside, but oddly enough, one of their earlier hits, "It Doesn't Really Matter", had quite a lot of that Brit-influenced substance the group had apparently sought. Still, to think of Platinum Blonde as being Canada's answer to Duran Duran would evoke concerns about Canada's ability to respond competently. Doesn't mean it wouldn't keep me from enjoying their music, however overblown the rock might have become.
Then there's a group that truly deserves never to have felt a single moment's cringe, the fabulous Payloa$. People always recall them for their hit "Eyes Of A Stranger", and for good reason, too; the song's reggae-flavored New Wave sound is a perfect exemplar of the group's sound overall. Everything about The Payola$' music is antithetical to Platinum Blonde -- it is subtle and smooth and complex and almost feminine. The real Duran Duran picked The Payloa$ to open for the band during their grand North American stand at Toronto's Maple Leaf Gardens in 1984 during a concert that was taped for commercial redistribution, but that was by no means the band's biggest success point. That would come later, after the group had broken up and the guitarist of the band, one Bob Rock, became an in-demand hard rock/heavy metal producer, producing names such as Metallica. To hear Metallica's music and contrast it with the delicate strumming Rock did as a member of The Payloa$ might lead one to wonder how one might be able to get from point A to point B, but noting that Rock was able to dial down the sound of the fury and come up with something that was still quite powerful does help.
How about Corey Hart? No one has yet to come to Hart's defense critically for his recordings, not even in the era of supposed tearing down of previously held notions about such htings, but I do feel they deserve re-evaluation, particularly his album Boy In The Box, which I feel is a very strong, underrated synthpop delight. There's also the previously mentioned Parachute Club, who spread their almost hippie-like joy north of the border. Images In Vogue are actually perhaps the classiest Canadian contribution to the world of '80s pop music; their icy/classy synthpop could be fooled for being of British origin, it's that good. Martha & the Muffins are another notable example of tasteful Canadian New Wave. Even if every one of their songs had been an "Echo Beach" clone, they'd have had plenty to be proud of. Strange Advance's music revisits the same bombastic territory of Platinum Blonde, but with a lot more subtlety and quality; Strange Advance could have actually been credibly advanced as being Canada's answer to Duran Duran, in fact. Oh, and speaking of artists that could've been fooled for being British, Trans-X's "Living On Video" would have left people puzzling as to how that slice of prototechno was NOT concocted in the U.K.
Regardless of how tasteful, low-key, etc., all that music is, however, it does also provide a good counterpoint to the world of self-importance that the "indie" musical genre has generally resided within. Because of Canada's massive land size (bigger in area that the United States), its music is destined to be equally big and make a huge statement with massive sounds. Even The Payloa$ and Images In Vogue had music that belied the BIG-ness of their originating country, even though their sounds were more low-key and tasteful. And during a time when we are supposed to be starting to celebrate the previously unchampioned while we slough off our old, silly notions of what is to be consisdered critically acceptable, that big sound should and will play a key role in the much-needed new musical revolution.
(God, I hope all of the above makes sense to me when I get some actual sleep in me.)
What should I talk about now? Maybe I should reveal the name of another track I listened to on that '80s Internet radio program I also discovered (for myself, obv) The Armoury Show's "The Glory Of Love" on, i.e. "Railways" by Kitchens Of Distinction. But having found that the Kitchens Of Distinction were known as sort of a "shoegaze"-type group with a lot of underground critical acceptance, I decided their aesthetic doesn't really fit the overall scene of this blog, though that song did sound really nice in a sort of "imagine the perfect scenario of being in college in 1988 and listening to the most far-out 'modern rock' on the campus radio station" way. I would've totally been okay with being "indie" had it worked out that I'd have been "indie" in the late '80s, after experiencing the joys of super-anthemic synthpop. However, since things DIDN'T end up working out that way and I was thrown into a scenario where "college radio" rock was pretty much more of the same shit I'd been apathetic about (to say the least) since my early adolescence, the indie scene will never gel for me, no matter how many indie acts try now to ape the sound of the early '80s.
So where do these answers lie? Where shall I go? I can always try to rebel by reaching out for something that is completely antithetical to that pristine, serene, intellectual scene, something whose aesthetic is completely everything stereotypically gauche about the '80s without being to the point where even I would roll my eyes and go, "Oh dear Lord, what are they on about?" So no Poison, no Crue, not Ratt or Whitesnake or what have you from the "hair metal"oids whose primary goal was just to score some chicks and booze on the Sunset Strip. No, I think I shall have to look up at the Great White North for my anti-college rock rebellion to be soundtracked.
Yep, that's right. O Canada....
One of the first Canadian artists I can think of for the purpose I seek is the truly cheesy Platinum Blonde. Ah yes, the group led by one former Brit (and boy was it a surprise to find that out) named Mark Holmes and featuring some of the most laughable "mall rat" hairstyles ever showcased on a masculine head, this group did manage to create some pretty sweet tunes. Everyone can recall "Crying Over You" with its big '80s rock sound, all machismo and swagger on the surface but candy-flavored nougat on the inside, but oddly enough, one of their earlier hits, "It Doesn't Really Matter", had quite a lot of that Brit-influenced substance the group had apparently sought. Still, to think of Platinum Blonde as being Canada's answer to Duran Duran would evoke concerns about Canada's ability to respond competently. Doesn't mean it wouldn't keep me from enjoying their music, however overblown the rock might have become.
Then there's a group that truly deserves never to have felt a single moment's cringe, the fabulous Payloa$. People always recall them for their hit "Eyes Of A Stranger", and for good reason, too; the song's reggae-flavored New Wave sound is a perfect exemplar of the group's sound overall. Everything about The Payola$' music is antithetical to Platinum Blonde -- it is subtle and smooth and complex and almost feminine. The real Duran Duran picked The Payloa$ to open for the band during their grand North American stand at Toronto's Maple Leaf Gardens in 1984 during a concert that was taped for commercial redistribution, but that was by no means the band's biggest success point. That would come later, after the group had broken up and the guitarist of the band, one Bob Rock, became an in-demand hard rock/heavy metal producer, producing names such as Metallica. To hear Metallica's music and contrast it with the delicate strumming Rock did as a member of The Payloa$ might lead one to wonder how one might be able to get from point A to point B, but noting that Rock was able to dial down the sound of the fury and come up with something that was still quite powerful does help.
How about Corey Hart? No one has yet to come to Hart's defense critically for his recordings, not even in the era of supposed tearing down of previously held notions about such htings, but I do feel they deserve re-evaluation, particularly his album Boy In The Box, which I feel is a very strong, underrated synthpop delight. There's also the previously mentioned Parachute Club, who spread their almost hippie-like joy north of the border. Images In Vogue are actually perhaps the classiest Canadian contribution to the world of '80s pop music; their icy/classy synthpop could be fooled for being of British origin, it's that good. Martha & the Muffins are another notable example of tasteful Canadian New Wave. Even if every one of their songs had been an "Echo Beach" clone, they'd have had plenty to be proud of. Strange Advance's music revisits the same bombastic territory of Platinum Blonde, but with a lot more subtlety and quality; Strange Advance could have actually been credibly advanced as being Canada's answer to Duran Duran, in fact. Oh, and speaking of artists that could've been fooled for being British, Trans-X's "Living On Video" would have left people puzzling as to how that slice of prototechno was NOT concocted in the U.K.
Regardless of how tasteful, low-key, etc., all that music is, however, it does also provide a good counterpoint to the world of self-importance that the "indie" musical genre has generally resided within. Because of Canada's massive land size (bigger in area that the United States), its music is destined to be equally big and make a huge statement with massive sounds. Even The Payloa$ and Images In Vogue had music that belied the BIG-ness of their originating country, even though their sounds were more low-key and tasteful. And during a time when we are supposed to be starting to celebrate the previously unchampioned while we slough off our old, silly notions of what is to be consisdered critically acceptable, that big sound should and will play a key role in the much-needed new musical revolution.
(God, I hope all of the above makes sense to me when I get some actual sleep in me.)
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
My '80s New Pop Playlist (04182007)
(Just an edit to clarify that now you can get to hear all the songs below on a special playlist page I just created. Yay me.)
I just finished lining up 20 songs, all of them (bar maybe one or two examples) released as singles sometime around the mid '80s, that exemplify what I would've played had I had control of a radio station and wanted to showcase some of the best of underrated '80s New Pop. The following is my list and some brief comments about them (I'll probably expand on many of them as this blog progresses):
1. Breathe, "Hands To Heaven": Oddly and heartbreakingly poignant and tender slow song. Beautifully rendered, delicate, with great vocals.
2. Johnny Hates Jazz, "Shattered Dreams": I am almost obsessed with this song. It is one of the most perfect examples of beautiful sophistipop. Remind me to write more about Johnny Hates Jazz sometime in the near future. I consider them HIGHLY underrated.
3. Boy Meets Girl, "Waiting For A Star To Fall": Fun little pop ditty. Assumes no pretensions, tries just to entertain the listener and succeeds.
4. Dan Hartman, "I Can Dream About You": Picks up a heart that has been downtrodden and lifts it up into the stratosphere. Just close your eyes and let the song do its work. Hartman, like fellow Philadelphian Daryl Hall, sang so soulfully.
5. The Parachute Club, "Rise Up": Very Up With People. Very hopeful and aspirational pop; fits somewhat in with the late '60s aesthetic, though without being fun-free.
6. Jesse Johnson & Stephanie Spruill, "Heart Too Hot To Hold": One of the most addictive dance pop songs ever recorded. You play it once and instantly want to play it again. Part of the glory that was The Breakfast Club's end credits.
7. Curiosity Killed The Cat, "Misfit": Andy Warhol championed them for a reason -- this song (again with an Up With People message of "like yourself the way you are") has hooks galore and is sophisticated to boot. The only decent thing Simon Cowell's ever been responsible for, and they came at the beginning of his career.
8. Bananarama, "The Wild Life": I can't believe this song wasn't their biggest hit. It is so intense and wonderful and the hooks build up atop each other and, and, and....
9. Benjamin Orr, "Stay The Night": Ah, God bless this late leader of The Cars for running with the New Pop meme after the smash success of "Drive". One of the Good Guys of American music; will definitely be missed.
10. Wang Chung, "Fire In The Twilight": Another Breakfast Club soundtrack listing. The video (no longer available on YouTube thanks to the Viacom fascists) was a lot of great fun, much like this song is.
11. Kajagoogoo, "Hang On Now": My favorite Kajagoogoo track. It is slow and sad and hopeful and filled with magic in both voice and instrumentation. If you liked Limahl's "The Neverending Story", chances are you love this song too.
12. King, "Love & Pride": Reaching a bit back into the archive to get this kitschy yet fun and tight (as tight as the jeans seen in the accompanying video) song.
13. Icehouse, "Electric Blue": The reason I got into Icehouse. I own the cassingle of this song and can't count the number of times I've played it. So sophisticated, so classy, so filled with pop hooks, and Iva Davies was so cute back then.
14. Alphaville, "Dance With Me": If you don't like this song, I don't know if I want to be friends with you. It is so full of hope and life and power and energy and exuberance and you can just feel Marian Gold's smile radiating outward to your ears that it is undeniable.
15. Howard Jones, "What Is Love?": A surprisingly touching and tender-hearted love song wrapped up in a cynical song title. I'm thinking I might want to save my thoughts about that for a future post.
16. a-ha, "The Living Daylights": My favorite Bond theme, besting even my beloved Duran Duran's "A View To A Kill". The reason? The song is less melodramatic -- indeed, it is understated for a Bond theme. Plus, I mean, it's a-ha; these guys are the pride of Norway for a reason.
17. Scritti Politti, "Perfect Way": Aw yeah, the masters of mid '80s New Pop with their biggest hit. A well-deserved chart smash. And the video -- oh, be still my adolescent heart! As a teen, I wanted to find the "perfect way" to win the beautiful Green Gartside's affections; now, I rejoice as he finally marries that girl who made HIM "go crazy".
18. Industry, "State Of The Nation": One of the few American music groups that actually got the '80s RIGHT, once they got little Jon Carin in (he was only 20 when this song was released). Another song I'm almost obsessed with.
19. Comsat Angels, "I'm Falling": Post-punk stalwarts, a la Scritti Politti, who got into New Pop by the mid '80s and mastered it. Slightly reggae-flavored, this song showcases a real sense of yearning. It was ballyhooed by the CSA fanbase but deserves to be re-evaluated NOW.
20. Naked Eyes, "Promises, Promises": Showcases everything I love about Tony Mansfield's spookily atmospheric synth production, along with being a good argument for why Pete Byrne and Rob Fisher were considered the Bacharach/David of '80s New Pop. (Disclaimer: This would be the U.S. version of this song, which I naturally prefer to the U.K. version, though the latter version is good in an exotic sort of way.)
Wow, this was fun. I should do more of these.
I just finished lining up 20 songs, all of them (bar maybe one or two examples) released as singles sometime around the mid '80s, that exemplify what I would've played had I had control of a radio station and wanted to showcase some of the best of underrated '80s New Pop. The following is my list and some brief comments about them (I'll probably expand on many of them as this blog progresses):
1. Breathe, "Hands To Heaven": Oddly and heartbreakingly poignant and tender slow song. Beautifully rendered, delicate, with great vocals.
2. Johnny Hates Jazz, "Shattered Dreams": I am almost obsessed with this song. It is one of the most perfect examples of beautiful sophistipop. Remind me to write more about Johnny Hates Jazz sometime in the near future. I consider them HIGHLY underrated.
3. Boy Meets Girl, "Waiting For A Star To Fall": Fun little pop ditty. Assumes no pretensions, tries just to entertain the listener and succeeds.
4. Dan Hartman, "I Can Dream About You": Picks up a heart that has been downtrodden and lifts it up into the stratosphere. Just close your eyes and let the song do its work. Hartman, like fellow Philadelphian Daryl Hall, sang so soulfully.
5. The Parachute Club, "Rise Up": Very Up With People. Very hopeful and aspirational pop; fits somewhat in with the late '60s aesthetic, though without being fun-free.
6. Jesse Johnson & Stephanie Spruill, "Heart Too Hot To Hold": One of the most addictive dance pop songs ever recorded. You play it once and instantly want to play it again. Part of the glory that was The Breakfast Club's end credits.
7. Curiosity Killed The Cat, "Misfit": Andy Warhol championed them for a reason -- this song (again with an Up With People message of "like yourself the way you are") has hooks galore and is sophisticated to boot. The only decent thing Simon Cowell's ever been responsible for, and they came at the beginning of his career.
8. Bananarama, "The Wild Life": I can't believe this song wasn't their biggest hit. It is so intense and wonderful and the hooks build up atop each other and, and, and....
9. Benjamin Orr, "Stay The Night": Ah, God bless this late leader of The Cars for running with the New Pop meme after the smash success of "Drive". One of the Good Guys of American music; will definitely be missed.
10. Wang Chung, "Fire In The Twilight": Another Breakfast Club soundtrack listing. The video (no longer available on YouTube thanks to the Viacom fascists) was a lot of great fun, much like this song is.
11. Kajagoogoo, "Hang On Now": My favorite Kajagoogoo track. It is slow and sad and hopeful and filled with magic in both voice and instrumentation. If you liked Limahl's "The Neverending Story", chances are you love this song too.
12. King, "Love & Pride": Reaching a bit back into the archive to get this kitschy yet fun and tight (as tight as the jeans seen in the accompanying video) song.
13. Icehouse, "Electric Blue": The reason I got into Icehouse. I own the cassingle of this song and can't count the number of times I've played it. So sophisticated, so classy, so filled with pop hooks, and Iva Davies was so cute back then.
14. Alphaville, "Dance With Me": If you don't like this song, I don't know if I want to be friends with you. It is so full of hope and life and power and energy and exuberance and you can just feel Marian Gold's smile radiating outward to your ears that it is undeniable.
15. Howard Jones, "What Is Love?": A surprisingly touching and tender-hearted love song wrapped up in a cynical song title. I'm thinking I might want to save my thoughts about that for a future post.
16. a-ha, "The Living Daylights": My favorite Bond theme, besting even my beloved Duran Duran's "A View To A Kill". The reason? The song is less melodramatic -- indeed, it is understated for a Bond theme. Plus, I mean, it's a-ha; these guys are the pride of Norway for a reason.
17. Scritti Politti, "Perfect Way": Aw yeah, the masters of mid '80s New Pop with their biggest hit. A well-deserved chart smash. And the video -- oh, be still my adolescent heart! As a teen, I wanted to find the "perfect way" to win the beautiful Green Gartside's affections; now, I rejoice as he finally marries that girl who made HIM "go crazy".
18. Industry, "State Of The Nation": One of the few American music groups that actually got the '80s RIGHT, once they got little Jon Carin in (he was only 20 when this song was released). Another song I'm almost obsessed with.
19. Comsat Angels, "I'm Falling": Post-punk stalwarts, a la Scritti Politti, who got into New Pop by the mid '80s and mastered it. Slightly reggae-flavored, this song showcases a real sense of yearning. It was ballyhooed by the CSA fanbase but deserves to be re-evaluated NOW.
20. Naked Eyes, "Promises, Promises": Showcases everything I love about Tony Mansfield's spookily atmospheric synth production, along with being a good argument for why Pete Byrne and Rob Fisher were considered the Bacharach/David of '80s New Pop. (Disclaimer: This would be the U.S. version of this song, which I naturally prefer to the U.K. version, though the latter version is good in an exotic sort of way.)
Wow, this was fun. I should do more of these.
The Incestuous World Of Scottish New Wave, Part 1 (Possibly)
First off, a moment of silence for the victims of the Virginia Tech massacre. Especially for Dr. Liviu Librescu, who lived and died the very definition of the word "hero". I won't admire very many people the way I admire him.
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In the wise words of my friend Chelsea, "the music business is incestuous".
Last night I listened to this wonderful, anthemic, powerful track, but the problem was, I didn't know who performed it or what the name of the song was. Today, after doing some research, I found out the name of the song was "The Glory Of Love" and it was performed by a group called The Armoury Set. After searching for information about The Armoury Set, I was surprised to find that it was a group featuring the lead vocals of Richard Jobson (formerly of The Skids) and the lead guitar work of the late John McGeoch (of Magazine and Visage and other groups/projects). The Skids immediately connect me to the obvious: the late Stuart Adamson, The Skids' lead guitarist before he left to form Big Country, a group that was one of the more popular Scottish artists in the States. It also leads me indirectly to the Scars (see my prior post about them), whose bandmates deeply admired The Skids and whose lead guitarist was directly influenced by Adamson.
The McGeoch/Magazine connection leads me to the recently departed Colin Thurston, best known for his engineering work with David Bowie and for producing Duran Duran's first two studio albums, but whose first production work was actually Magazine's Secondhand Daylight. It also leads to Howard Devoto and The Buzzcocks, of whom he was their first lead singer. (After Devoto left to join Magazine, the band's lead guitarist Pete Shelley stepped up to lead vocals.) The McGeoch/Visage connection leads me directly into the world I know best/most about, the late '70s/early '80s New Romantic scene, with Steve Strange (Visage's lead singer/public face) playing a key role in the scene and former Scottish teen idol Midge Ure joining forces with Ultravox's Billy Currie on the Visage project, then joining up with Currie and the rest of the John Foxx-less band and guiding them into a more electronic, NuRo sound. Ure and Duran Duran would later be bandmates of a sort on a different project: 1984's Band Aid, whose "Do They Know It's Christmas?" was penned by Ure and Bob Geldof and performed by a host of predominantly British musicians, including all the members of Duran Duran.
Backing up a bit, the song by The Armoury Set that captivated my attention in the first place reminded me a lot of Simple Minds, with its sweepingly melodramatic atmosphere and grand, majestic scope that attracted me to the song. The Simple Minds were the first taste of Scottish New Wave for me and for a lot of others here in the States. The Simple Minds lead me, as has been stated before on this blog, to Endgames, whose drummer Brian McGee was one of the founder members of Simple Minds (even having been friends with Jim Kerr and Charlie Burchill from early childhood), and who utilized the saxophonic talents of Paul Wishart of Endgames for an early '80s tour. And reading an interview done of Richard Jobson, with his mentioning his Irish Catholic roots and his childhood insistence of supporting the "right" Scottish football organizations (shades of Northern Ireland and Protestant vs. Catholic struggles here), reminded me of another Scottish musician whose music I discovered via the New Wave Outpost, Steven Hale of the London-based Language, whose heritage is similar to Jobson's, but who refused to be a fan of football/soccer precisely because of those Protestant/Catholic struggles. (I would go on about how those Protestant/Catholic struggles remind me of those I see evidenced throughout my very American life, but that's for another kind of blog.) And Steven Hale connects me to Gang Of Four via GO4 lead singer Jon King's sister Debbie, a backup singer in Language and a lead singer in another project the percussionist Hale was in, and Eddi Reader, another backup singer (and Scotland native) who went on to score big with Fairground Attraction ("Perfect").
Oh, this is all very exhausting and circuitous, but it does prove Chelsea's point that the music industry IS incestuous, especially when it's concentrated in particular focal points such as Scotland. A country as small as that, with just over 4 million citizens/residents and an area size roughly 1/10 of my home state's (I'm a Texan), will be bound to have quite a lot of connections amongst its musician citizenry. But to see them all evidenced in such a small time frame (the action happens from 1977 - 1984, roughly the life span of the original New Wave movement) is breathtaking, especially when all of them apparently created such high-quality, wonderful music.
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In the wise words of my friend Chelsea, "the music business is incestuous".
Last night I listened to this wonderful, anthemic, powerful track, but the problem was, I didn't know who performed it or what the name of the song was. Today, after doing some research, I found out the name of the song was "The Glory Of Love" and it was performed by a group called The Armoury Set. After searching for information about The Armoury Set, I was surprised to find that it was a group featuring the lead vocals of Richard Jobson (formerly of The Skids) and the lead guitar work of the late John McGeoch (of Magazine and Visage and other groups/projects). The Skids immediately connect me to the obvious: the late Stuart Adamson, The Skids' lead guitarist before he left to form Big Country, a group that was one of the more popular Scottish artists in the States. It also leads me indirectly to the Scars (see my prior post about them), whose bandmates deeply admired The Skids and whose lead guitarist was directly influenced by Adamson.
The McGeoch/Magazine connection leads me to the recently departed Colin Thurston, best known for his engineering work with David Bowie and for producing Duran Duran's first two studio albums, but whose first production work was actually Magazine's Secondhand Daylight. It also leads to Howard Devoto and The Buzzcocks, of whom he was their first lead singer. (After Devoto left to join Magazine, the band's lead guitarist Pete Shelley stepped up to lead vocals.) The McGeoch/Visage connection leads me directly into the world I know best/most about, the late '70s/early '80s New Romantic scene, with Steve Strange (Visage's lead singer/public face) playing a key role in the scene and former Scottish teen idol Midge Ure joining forces with Ultravox's Billy Currie on the Visage project, then joining up with Currie and the rest of the John Foxx-less band and guiding them into a more electronic, NuRo sound. Ure and Duran Duran would later be bandmates of a sort on a different project: 1984's Band Aid, whose "Do They Know It's Christmas?" was penned by Ure and Bob Geldof and performed by a host of predominantly British musicians, including all the members of Duran Duran.
Backing up a bit, the song by The Armoury Set that captivated my attention in the first place reminded me a lot of Simple Minds, with its sweepingly melodramatic atmosphere and grand, majestic scope that attracted me to the song. The Simple Minds were the first taste of Scottish New Wave for me and for a lot of others here in the States. The Simple Minds lead me, as has been stated before on this blog, to Endgames, whose drummer Brian McGee was one of the founder members of Simple Minds (even having been friends with Jim Kerr and Charlie Burchill from early childhood), and who utilized the saxophonic talents of Paul Wishart of Endgames for an early '80s tour. And reading an interview done of Richard Jobson, with his mentioning his Irish Catholic roots and his childhood insistence of supporting the "right" Scottish football organizations (shades of Northern Ireland and Protestant vs. Catholic struggles here), reminded me of another Scottish musician whose music I discovered via the New Wave Outpost, Steven Hale of the London-based Language, whose heritage is similar to Jobson's, but who refused to be a fan of football/soccer precisely because of those Protestant/Catholic struggles. (I would go on about how those Protestant/Catholic struggles remind me of those I see evidenced throughout my very American life, but that's for another kind of blog.) And Steven Hale connects me to Gang Of Four via GO4 lead singer Jon King's sister Debbie, a backup singer in Language and a lead singer in another project the percussionist Hale was in, and Eddi Reader, another backup singer (and Scotland native) who went on to score big with Fairground Attraction ("Perfect").
Oh, this is all very exhausting and circuitous, but it does prove Chelsea's point that the music industry IS incestuous, especially when it's concentrated in particular focal points such as Scotland. A country as small as that, with just over 4 million citizens/residents and an area size roughly 1/10 of my home state's (I'm a Texan), will be bound to have quite a lot of connections amongst its musician citizenry. But to see them all evidenced in such a small time frame (the action happens from 1977 - 1984, roughly the life span of the original New Wave movement) is breathtaking, especially when all of them apparently created such high-quality, wonderful music.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
'80s Pop Culture In A Fork: My Awesome '80s Diet
Feeling a little on the weak side tonight, so I'll tackle a light topic: Food in the '80s.
Unlike most aspects of '80s living, the food trends of the '80s did hit me right at home. Which meant I spent a lot of time noshing on healthier fare and being aware of diets. It also meant eating that was at the time thought to be attuned to my mother's diabetes. Using margarine instead of butter, drinking diet sodas and sugar-free Kool Aid, having sugar-free Jell-O and Cool-Whip for dessert -- all of that mingled both with the diet-crazed '80s and my mother's doctors' admonitions to follow a healthier diet. Other food trends also made their way into my family's regular food eating. Hamburger Helper, which debuted in the '70s and was many an '80s working woman's savior, was a regular feature for dinner and a cause for celebration for little girl me. Always served with an iceberg lettuce and tomato salad (thousand island and Catalina dressings both available), Hamburger Helper always felt like some reward or special treat and still tastes (to me) like home. (My favorite flavor was always beef stroganoff.)
But back to the sodas -- the first soda I ever drank was TaB Cola. Once the target of ridicule for its distinctive saccarhine taste and even temporarily taken off the shelves when the "saccharine as possible carcinogen" scare was going on, TaB is a sort of acquired taste. You take the first couple of sips of the soda and can't believe anything could taste that bitter or artificial, but then you drink some more and it starts to taste pretty good. Almost fruity, even. By the time you've finished off a can, you can't wait to get into the next one. And that's how it starts. For me, that taste is the taste of my lost childhood, especially since so few retailers these days actually stock it still. I may have moved on to Diet Coke and other diet sodas, but TaB will always be that first soda for me. One look at that ubiquitous pink can and it's instant flashback time to a time when I would come home in my Catholic school girl uniform, peel off my sweater and skirt, take my penny loafers off, walk around in my school shirt and the shorts I wore under the skirt, grab a TaB from the fridge, and sip away as my parents started on dinner.
This is not to say that my childhood was sugar-free. Oh no. I too enjoyed cookies and pie and cake and ice cream. It's just -- I remember them being more "occasional" foods, goodies eaten during special occasions or every once in awhile. And I don't remember seeing them all that often around the house. Usually when I would eat cookies they were store-bought. Same with pies, though at least you had to bake them at home (oh Mrs. Smith's, where would my childhood be without you?). Cake came from a mix. And ice cream was a rare treat indeed, usually reserved for the once-monthly trips to McDonald's where, if I was good, I would get a small strawberry sundae or maybe even a cone. Usually what constituted as "ice cream" around the house was actually sherbet, predominantly the peach or pineapple flavors. Sherbet, touted in Mom's diet books as being a healthier alternative to ice cream, is now something I don't really crave, having converted to the dark side of ultra-creamy ice cream.
Not all of my old food biases from the '80s have been converted. For example, I still can only stand just a little bit of butter in my food. I still feel strongly that the taste of margarine is actually a "buttery" taste and cannot comprehend anti-margarine bias. I don't really know what cake made from scratch tastes like and don't have that curiosity thanks to Betty Crocker. My blood runs cold whenever anyone laughs at the concept of Hamburger Helper or TV dinners or anything else that was meant to be a quick fix and eat type dinner concept. I'll only drink regular sodas if I'm having to work a graveyard shift (so I can stay awake better) and can't fathom drinking those all the time, I in fact find a lot of things "too sweet", and I wonder how certain families could afford having a parent stay at home long enough to fix a fully home-prepared and -cooked dinner every night and secretly wonder if those "like Mom/Grandma used to make" families have been solidly middle class for generations.
I guess that's what my '80s really boils down to as far as food goes. See, I was still living in a solidly blue-collar, lower middle class socioeconomic ring during that decade, and I know for a fact both my parents worked outside the home on a full-time basis because they couldn't afford to do otherwise. By the early '90s, which is when my parents moved up in their respective jobs (my mom with the most impressive leap, comparatively), we were finally able to work towards entering the regular middle class and that's when we started broadening our food horizons. But a lot of the "from scratch" food nostalgia that gets propagated by the food-oriented mass media comes from a background of generations of solidly middle class families, whose female members were historically able to make the time and effort to making things such as pie crusts and homemade cookies and who passed that down to the proceeding generation. The '80s was one historic moment when all of that really didn't make that much of a difference because everyone was busy and convenience (and affordability) reigned. But by the time the true cultural '90s rolled around and people started murmuring about going back to their "food roots", the fissures in the pavement started to show and it became more obvious who was working hard in the '80s because they wanted to, and who was working hard because they HAD to.
So I will continue to enjoy Cool Whip (that's another thing -- I've never had "fresh sweet whipped cream" before) and sugar-free Jell-O. I will continue to insist on buying pre-made pot pies and cookie dough to bake up in the oven and ooh and aah at the results. I will drink my TaB and eat oat- and fiber-rich cereals and find no difference in the pleasure values between those and the sugary "kid" cereals that cost just as much. I will not have bread snobbery except for the recent development of my preferring whole wheat bread to regular white. I will enjoy iceberg lettuce and tell everyone about that. I will refuse to stop feeling more comfortable with the taste of margarine than I am with the taste of butter. And I will eat premium ice cream with the knowledge that my dessert is a luxury, not a necessity, and that I would've never gotten to eat that when my age was in the single digits.
(Wow, two serious posts in a row. I must be going for some record here.)
Friday, April 13, 2007
Statement Of (Blog) Being, Part 3
I am tired, so I think I'll go off on little tangents. Hopefully one of them will stick.
Why do I love synthpop/'80s "New Romantic" music/synth rock so much? I suspect part of it has to do with a certain sort of exoticism. Because I come from cultures where that sort of cold synth sound is absent or undervalued, there's a sort of unknown geography going on there. Or maybe it's because it's all so immediate. Or....
You know, I was thinking about something this morning on my drive to work. I kept on thinking about how we as Americans hate fun. We are fun haters. We cannot stand the idea of anyone having real, genuine, organic fun, and so we try to destroy as many "fun" outlets as possible. In the '60s, it was okay to have fun because there was an overwhelming abundance of young people who thought nothing of having fun (and also thought nothing of the future consequences for this "fun"), but by the early '70s fun was completely out of the equation, replaced instead by musical wankery. The musical equivalent of trying to see who has the bigger dick, the overnoodley arena/album rock that was in vogue throughout the American '70s delivered nothing but endless instrumental solos and caused lots of (predominantly) male audiences to feel self-important as they beat their chests and hollered at the fantastical extension of their own manhood. Glam rockers tried valiantly to funnel some of that attention their way but got practically nowhere in the States, the odd occasional megahit notwithstanding.
By the late '70s, three separate musical revolutions, two of which emerged from the U.K. and one that was homegrown, conspired to try to shake up the world of music. The British twosome, punk rock and a genre called New Wave, both sought to simplify the performance and writing of rock music, distilling it to its very essence. Punk brought back the rebellious sneering and attitude that made rock & roll dangerous in the eyes of the '50s Establishment, while New Wave went back to the formula that won American audiences over to the artists of the '60s British Invasion. The American rebellion took the form of a more danceable version of funk called disco; largely faceless artists (though there were a few luminaries in the genre) performed music mostly written by others that caused people to have fun, lighten up, get over themselves, and just have a good time. Though it could've been considered prefabricated pop, it differed from the cookie cutter assembly line teen pop of the early '70s by actually being an outlet for these musicians' and composers' artistic expressions. Soon punk rock and disco merged into another musical genre altogether, post-punk, which later fused with original New Wave to create the iconic '80s New Wave sound most people can readily point out.
None of the above were fully accepted in the U.S., though, again because we hate fun. Oh no, we weren't going to invest the time to figure out literate irony and sly cheekiness in our American version of punk; no, American punk had to be yet another outlet for Neanderthal macho posturing, with shirtless males from the suburbs growling into the microphone or noisily destroying their guitars (and their listeners' eardrums). As for original New Wave? Heck no, we won't stand for that kind of business. Those musicians look like they're having the time of their lives performing catchy songs with poetic lyrics! No, we have to have our musicians be absolutely morose and miserable-looking. We have to have songs that we have to suffer through. And heaven help us if our musical lyrics are either spelled out for us or deliberately obtuse via the prolific use of mind-altering substances. As for disco -- well, please, we are not going to stand for a multicultural, multisexual audience actually comingling on the dance floor in a TRULY united nations manner. We'll just make vaguely homophobic remarks and pretend disco is all about the novelty songs written by people trying to cash in on disco. No, we'd rather have anguished troubadors whining on about their lost childhoods while strumming passionlessly on their (acoustic) guitars because all we want to feel is RAGE RAGE RAGE! No love, no serenity, we want to RAGE ON.
So when '80s New Wave/New Pop music (what the synthpop of the '80s was known as) became all the rage amongst early '80s American adolescents, when the most vital American DJs were the ones who were championing this largely British musical format (i.e. Rodney Bingenheimer and Richard Blade), when teenaged boys and girls were having fun listening to music that was a mixture of British punk's DIY aesthetic and winkily witty lyricism, disco's catchiness and emphasis on a strong rhythm section, and original New Wave's insistence on a return to musical simplicity and tightness in chord structure, the American musical establishment could not recoil fast enough. Oh no, these overgrown hippies and stoners exclaimed, our youth of today are having fun with music that could actually be considered revolutionary! They might steal our late '60s counterculture thunder! So they called in Greil Marcus and Dave Marsh and the rest of America's most prominent music journalists to make sure that '80s New Wave/New Pop got quashed but good, which it was by the time 1987 rolled around. By that time, music became severely ghettoized once again, leaving few choices for anyone who wanted anything that was as much a breath of fresh air as New Pop was. (Interesting note: By 1989, the only artist to have that sort of witty, fun-loving spirit was the U.S.'s They Might Be Giants.)
After suffering through the 1990s and the first couple of years of the millennial decade, i.e. the nadir of popular music overall, indie/college artists worldwide rediscovered the joy and exhiliaration of the music that caused the Rolling Stone magazine set to quake in its moldy old boots. They found that punk could sound like something other than a bunch of hypertestosteroned yelping. They discovered the joys of disco dancing with a technological bent that would make Tubeway Army smile. They realized that "New Wave" wasn't the slur they were raised to believe it was. And they found that post-punk was the absolute mark of perfection in the world of '70s pop music. Now even '80s New Pop is getting a reexamination, albeit from artists that are new to the point of being unsigned. The problem with the giant bulk of those artists is that they have yet to reap any real financial or popular rewards for their efforts. They've been getting lots of adoration from the college campus set, but the American Top 40 is still being hijacked by the same ghettoized contrivances that have held popular radio prisoner for the past ten years.
So now what? What I'm thinking is that there needs to be a real critical revolution that goes on. Not from the British, for they will support anything with a real organic intensity and committment to the art of music as long as it isn't too much of a commercial success; indeed, the "Tall Poppy Syndrome" as called out by Australian celebrity journalists toward Aussie celebs has its roots in British music journalism. It is the American music journalism establishment and other journalists influenced by same who continue to enact an unspoken policy of a lack of support for that which did not originate for the Baby Boomer generation. A few lesser-known members of the U.S. musical press are a part of the much-needed revolution, but there still needs to be more support, particularly from the most egregious offenders, Rolling Stone and Entertainment Weekly. And there needs to be more of the music consumers' money devoted to that which sought to involve music in a new revolution -- one that would embrace synths, one that would see nothing wrong in urgent disco beats, one that would put to rest the hoary old sound of a thousand souls dying.
I am but one person, and a mere music listener/consumer at that. But I will do my best to get the ball rolling.
(Wow, I actually made a point tonight. Impressive.)
Why do I love synthpop/'80s "New Romantic" music/synth rock so much? I suspect part of it has to do with a certain sort of exoticism. Because I come from cultures where that sort of cold synth sound is absent or undervalued, there's a sort of unknown geography going on there. Or maybe it's because it's all so immediate. Or....
You know, I was thinking about something this morning on my drive to work. I kept on thinking about how we as Americans hate fun. We are fun haters. We cannot stand the idea of anyone having real, genuine, organic fun, and so we try to destroy as many "fun" outlets as possible. In the '60s, it was okay to have fun because there was an overwhelming abundance of young people who thought nothing of having fun (and also thought nothing of the future consequences for this "fun"), but by the early '70s fun was completely out of the equation, replaced instead by musical wankery. The musical equivalent of trying to see who has the bigger dick, the overnoodley arena/album rock that was in vogue throughout the American '70s delivered nothing but endless instrumental solos and caused lots of (predominantly) male audiences to feel self-important as they beat their chests and hollered at the fantastical extension of their own manhood. Glam rockers tried valiantly to funnel some of that attention their way but got practically nowhere in the States, the odd occasional megahit notwithstanding.
By the late '70s, three separate musical revolutions, two of which emerged from the U.K. and one that was homegrown, conspired to try to shake up the world of music. The British twosome, punk rock and a genre called New Wave, both sought to simplify the performance and writing of rock music, distilling it to its very essence. Punk brought back the rebellious sneering and attitude that made rock & roll dangerous in the eyes of the '50s Establishment, while New Wave went back to the formula that won American audiences over to the artists of the '60s British Invasion. The American rebellion took the form of a more danceable version of funk called disco; largely faceless artists (though there were a few luminaries in the genre) performed music mostly written by others that caused people to have fun, lighten up, get over themselves, and just have a good time. Though it could've been considered prefabricated pop, it differed from the cookie cutter assembly line teen pop of the early '70s by actually being an outlet for these musicians' and composers' artistic expressions. Soon punk rock and disco merged into another musical genre altogether, post-punk, which later fused with original New Wave to create the iconic '80s New Wave sound most people can readily point out.
None of the above were fully accepted in the U.S., though, again because we hate fun. Oh no, we weren't going to invest the time to figure out literate irony and sly cheekiness in our American version of punk; no, American punk had to be yet another outlet for Neanderthal macho posturing, with shirtless males from the suburbs growling into the microphone or noisily destroying their guitars (and their listeners' eardrums). As for original New Wave? Heck no, we won't stand for that kind of business. Those musicians look like they're having the time of their lives performing catchy songs with poetic lyrics! No, we have to have our musicians be absolutely morose and miserable-looking. We have to have songs that we have to suffer through. And heaven help us if our musical lyrics are either spelled out for us or deliberately obtuse via the prolific use of mind-altering substances. As for disco -- well, please, we are not going to stand for a multicultural, multisexual audience actually comingling on the dance floor in a TRULY united nations manner. We'll just make vaguely homophobic remarks and pretend disco is all about the novelty songs written by people trying to cash in on disco. No, we'd rather have anguished troubadors whining on about their lost childhoods while strumming passionlessly on their (acoustic) guitars because all we want to feel is RAGE RAGE RAGE! No love, no serenity, we want to RAGE ON.
So when '80s New Wave/New Pop music (what the synthpop of the '80s was known as) became all the rage amongst early '80s American adolescents, when the most vital American DJs were the ones who were championing this largely British musical format (i.e. Rodney Bingenheimer and Richard Blade), when teenaged boys and girls were having fun listening to music that was a mixture of British punk's DIY aesthetic and winkily witty lyricism, disco's catchiness and emphasis on a strong rhythm section, and original New Wave's insistence on a return to musical simplicity and tightness in chord structure, the American musical establishment could not recoil fast enough. Oh no, these overgrown hippies and stoners exclaimed, our youth of today are having fun with music that could actually be considered revolutionary! They might steal our late '60s counterculture thunder! So they called in Greil Marcus and Dave Marsh and the rest of America's most prominent music journalists to make sure that '80s New Wave/New Pop got quashed but good, which it was by the time 1987 rolled around. By that time, music became severely ghettoized once again, leaving few choices for anyone who wanted anything that was as much a breath of fresh air as New Pop was. (Interesting note: By 1989, the only artist to have that sort of witty, fun-loving spirit was the U.S.'s They Might Be Giants.)
After suffering through the 1990s and the first couple of years of the millennial decade, i.e. the nadir of popular music overall, indie/college artists worldwide rediscovered the joy and exhiliaration of the music that caused the Rolling Stone magazine set to quake in its moldy old boots. They found that punk could sound like something other than a bunch of hypertestosteroned yelping. They discovered the joys of disco dancing with a technological bent that would make Tubeway Army smile. They realized that "New Wave" wasn't the slur they were raised to believe it was. And they found that post-punk was the absolute mark of perfection in the world of '70s pop music. Now even '80s New Pop is getting a reexamination, albeit from artists that are new to the point of being unsigned. The problem with the giant bulk of those artists is that they have yet to reap any real financial or popular rewards for their efforts. They've been getting lots of adoration from the college campus set, but the American Top 40 is still being hijacked by the same ghettoized contrivances that have held popular radio prisoner for the past ten years.
So now what? What I'm thinking is that there needs to be a real critical revolution that goes on. Not from the British, for they will support anything with a real organic intensity and committment to the art of music as long as it isn't too much of a commercial success; indeed, the "Tall Poppy Syndrome" as called out by Australian celebrity journalists toward Aussie celebs has its roots in British music journalism. It is the American music journalism establishment and other journalists influenced by same who continue to enact an unspoken policy of a lack of support for that which did not originate for the Baby Boomer generation. A few lesser-known members of the U.S. musical press are a part of the much-needed revolution, but there still needs to be more support, particularly from the most egregious offenders, Rolling Stone and Entertainment Weekly. And there needs to be more of the music consumers' money devoted to that which sought to involve music in a new revolution -- one that would embrace synths, one that would see nothing wrong in urgent disco beats, one that would put to rest the hoary old sound of a thousand souls dying.
I am but one person, and a mere music listener/consumer at that. But I will do my best to get the ball rolling.
(Wow, I actually made a point tonight. Impressive.)
Thursday, April 12, 2007
From The Vault: Scars' Author! Author!
I've been incredibly derelict with this blog lately, so I shall have to play catch-up.
What I've been listening to recently: I don't know, a lot of stuff really. I suppose the most recent CD I spinned could be a start, and that would be the utterly brilliant reissue of the Scars' Author! Author!. Now I know they don't necessarily fit into the overall schematic of this blog because they were highly critically adored throughout their existence and have continued to receive positive attention from All The Right People, but the simple fact that I discovered them through the New Wave Outpost's "Song Of The Week" super-obscuro New Wave feature will lead one to believe that they were at least COMMERCIALLY underrated.
Seriously, babes. They should have been Scotland's answer to Duran Duran. From me, that's a massive compliment, as I view Duran Duran to be the absolute gold standard acme of what is great about catchy pop music. The Scars performed music quite like that, with a little more of an anarchic punk spin; their songs were a little more primal and urgent and raw. But their last and most well-known single "All About You" wouldn't have been out-of-place on a compilation next to Simple Minds' "All The Things She Said" and "China" by Red Rockers, which is why that is the song most NWO regulars and others coming across that band from a New Wave standpoint remember that song.
I, however, think that only partially tells the musical story of a band whose extraordinary precociousness is rivaled only by their drive, passion, and determination in all they did and have done. With the average age of the individual band members not even 18 at the time of the band's 1977 formation, all four bandmates brought with them impressive resumes. Lead guitarist Paul Research and bassist John Mackie (both brothers) were both classically trained musicians before getting into rock music in their early teens, lead singer Robert King started his music career at the tender age of 12, and teenaged Calumn Mackay was already a veteran of various bands. Immediately upon the band's formation, all four boys committed themselves seriously to writing music and performing gigs and soon began attracting a small but loyal fanbase as they almost singlehandedly established punk in their native Edinburgh.
By the time the band got started on writing songs for the album Author! Author! their sound had mellowed and matured into something more authentically post-punk -- a comingling of raw punk verve and catchy disco grooves. And that's what most of the music on the album sounds like. However, with "All About You" the band landed on a new, even poppier sound, something with all the passion and intensity one might expect from a Scars track but with a preternatural maturity in its execution and delivery. Had the band continued on this musical track for a followup album, their fanbase would have grown exponentially, and had they released yet another album no one would have dared forget them. After five albums, people would be calling them "Scotland's answer to Duran Duran" and they, not the Simple Minds, would have become the biggest Scottish pop group of the '80s. Which could've turned out to be not quite as good a thing as that seems.
See, the individual band members (including second drummer Steve McLaughlin) have managed to do very well for themselves post-Scars, continuing with their lifelong pattern of impressive accomplishments. Robert King, who learned Greek at the almost literally unbelievable age of 10, has continued to showcase his talent for languages as a Ph.D. holder/expert on ancient languages. Paul Research is continuing to make and perform both popular and classical music, runs marathons, and works a decidedly white collar IT job. John Mackie owns his own design firm. Calumn Mackay is a physicist and engineer who continues to play drums in blues and rock bands in his Grenoble (France) home. And Steve McLaughlin is an in-demand record producer and engineer, working with artists such as Sting and Badly Drawn Boy and winning a Grammy (of all things) for his work on a Tom Petty album.
Perhaps it might have been a curse for a group such as this to have become wildly popular. Maybe they would have felt an intense frustration from the constraints such a life trajectory would have provided. But it would've also meant people such as myself, living an ocean, several thousand miles, and decades away, would have been able to get aboard their fan train a lot easier. I know, I know, that's selfish thinking, but after becoming very acquainted with the band's music, I am puzzled as to why a group with that amount of talent should have had to lie dormant at the bottom of the music history ravine. The fact that they were only there because of the brevity of their recording history is a consolation.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Another Statement Of (Blog) Being
It is somewhat provident or ironic (depending on your own point of view) that the Duran Duran single "Rio" was released in April 1982, exactly 25 years ago this month. As I explained in the introductory blog post (it's easy to find now so I won't link directly to it), the title of this blog comes from a 1979 demo track by DD called "See Me Repeat Me", which eventually became "Rio" after undergoing many transformations. And even though I really do not like "Rio" the song one bit (someone whom I've had plenty of disagreements with in the past accurately described it as being "the sound of a frat boy date rape"), I cannot get enough of "See Me Repeat Me". Recorded before Andy Taylor or Simon Le Bon became members of the group, with Andy Wickett as lead singer and Roger Taylor a brand-new member, the demo tape, which featured production by local studio vet Bob Lamb, became the stuff of heresay and legend before it was unearthed by Wickett, put out on CD format, and sold off his MySpace profile site. As a result, I and lots of other fans have been able to aurally witness the musical progression of our pop heroes and have been able to come to some interesting conclusions.
First off is the presence of Andy Wickett's vocals. His raw and passionate yelps are reminiscent of Simon Le Bon's own yellings on the band's major label debut album. One can easily tell how that vocal styling would be most beneficial toward the band's sound at around that time. Rough and ready was the name of the game with every aspect of Duran Duran's music, still showing its punk DIY roots while also throwing a real appreciation and adoration of disco dance music into the mix, the very definition of post-punk. That's what's so interesting about listening to the band's musical output from 1979 - 1981, that their roots were firmly within the realm of post-punk even as they signed a major label contract and adopted the uniform of the New Romantics. As a result of music journalist Simon Reynolds's research, it was found that DD played the same local venues that post-punk standard-bearers the Swell Maps also played in. So is it any surprise that many of the artists who are a part of the recent new wave of post-punk claim musical influence from both the usual post-punk suspects AND Duran Duran? (c.f. Franz Ferdinand, for one.)
Perhaps that is the key toward getting some much-deserved critical acclaim for Duran Duran and the other eventual standard-bearers of the New Pop movement. Perhaps by pointing out these strong links to that which is already being viewed as critically accepted/acceptable, it will enable these people who would like nothing more than to discredit these artists as being shallow, all style no substance type hobbyist posers whose music can be easily dismissed, to really and honestly reexamine this music and see just how much it too was rooted in the spirit of rebellion and revolution and involved youth culture. Or maybe it will take something more or something different. Maybe the key is in pointing out the real artistic merit of these pop artists' output AFTER they became "pop"-oriented. Maybe the case will not be wholly won until there is someone who can stick their neck out and say that this too is music that demands to be taken seriously.
And really, that is part of my agenda in keeping up this blog. Aside from going into detail about that which I have a real adoration for, I hope to be able to put into the best words I can why the serious, sober-minded music listener I am would wish to keep on running to the music of the '80s New Pop/synthpop scene. Even as I discover for myself all kinds of glorious musical artists that are considered critical smash successes, I still view artists such as Duran Duran, who weren't really treated fairly by the critics (especially in America), as being my own personal standard bearers for what I consider to be the most glorious of popular music. And even as I dislike the song "Rio", I find the rest of the album Rio to be an incredible masterpiece, with songs such as "New Religion" and "Last Chance On The Stairway" being the highlights of this inspired work of loveliness.
So I shall endeavor to explain away why I love that which I love in a manner that will explain it intellectually. Maybe then people can see that it is more than just overgrown teenagers trying continually to relive their adolescence who are drawn to the musical heart of the '80s pop scene.
First off is the presence of Andy Wickett's vocals. His raw and passionate yelps are reminiscent of Simon Le Bon's own yellings on the band's major label debut album. One can easily tell how that vocal styling would be most beneficial toward the band's sound at around that time. Rough and ready was the name of the game with every aspect of Duran Duran's music, still showing its punk DIY roots while also throwing a real appreciation and adoration of disco dance music into the mix, the very definition of post-punk. That's what's so interesting about listening to the band's musical output from 1979 - 1981, that their roots were firmly within the realm of post-punk even as they signed a major label contract and adopted the uniform of the New Romantics. As a result of music journalist Simon Reynolds's research, it was found that DD played the same local venues that post-punk standard-bearers the Swell Maps also played in. So is it any surprise that many of the artists who are a part of the recent new wave of post-punk claim musical influence from both the usual post-punk suspects AND Duran Duran? (c.f. Franz Ferdinand, for one.)
Perhaps that is the key toward getting some much-deserved critical acclaim for Duran Duran and the other eventual standard-bearers of the New Pop movement. Perhaps by pointing out these strong links to that which is already being viewed as critically accepted/acceptable, it will enable these people who would like nothing more than to discredit these artists as being shallow, all style no substance type hobbyist posers whose music can be easily dismissed, to really and honestly reexamine this music and see just how much it too was rooted in the spirit of rebellion and revolution and involved youth culture. Or maybe it will take something more or something different. Maybe the key is in pointing out the real artistic merit of these pop artists' output AFTER they became "pop"-oriented. Maybe the case will not be wholly won until there is someone who can stick their neck out and say that this too is music that demands to be taken seriously.
And really, that is part of my agenda in keeping up this blog. Aside from going into detail about that which I have a real adoration for, I hope to be able to put into the best words I can why the serious, sober-minded music listener I am would wish to keep on running to the music of the '80s New Pop/synthpop scene. Even as I discover for myself all kinds of glorious musical artists that are considered critical smash successes, I still view artists such as Duran Duran, who weren't really treated fairly by the critics (especially in America), as being my own personal standard bearers for what I consider to be the most glorious of popular music. And even as I dislike the song "Rio", I find the rest of the album Rio to be an incredible masterpiece, with songs such as "New Religion" and "Last Chance On The Stairway" being the highlights of this inspired work of loveliness.
So I shall endeavor to explain away why I love that which I love in a manner that will explain it intellectually. Maybe then people can see that it is more than just overgrown teenagers trying continually to relive their adolescence who are drawn to the musical heart of the '80s pop scene.
Friday, April 6, 2007
Musings On A Crush: Alex P. Keaton
In the past seven or so years, I have come to two conclusions about the very first crush I ever had on anyone. As a young child in the '80s, I watched "Family Ties" faithfully, and developed a real affection for the character of the brash, archcapitalist teenaged son everyone knows as Alex P. Keaton. My mom would wrinkle her nose anytime I told her "I like Alex" as she couldn't stand the character (due more to old-fashioned notions of what adolescent boys were supposed to be like -- she's eventually grown to like the actor Michael J. Fox). But I did. Sometimes he was the only reason I would watch a particular episode. But being a completely nonjealous type, I was happy for him when he found love and to this day find Billy Vera & The Beaters' "At This Moment" to be the only love song I like.As I've been thinking about various things over the past several years, I've managed to come to two conclusions about this crush: one, that it is this crush that has influenced every other crush I've had on anyone throughout my lifetime, and two, that it could've only been the '80s that Alex P. Keaton, and in turn Michael J. Fox, could've been viewed as being a figure of adolescent adoration.
Looking at the descriptives of the junior Keaton male -- boyish face, clean-cut image, pale skin, thin body frame, looks good in (ubiquitous) suits -- one could accurately point at how this framework fits with every single crush I've ever had on anyone else, both famous and non-famous. Christian Bale? Boyish face, clean-cut image, pale skin, thin body frame (with the exception of Batman Begins), looks good in suits. John Taylor? Boyish face, clean-cut image, pale skin, thin body frame (we'll forget the "A View To A Kill" video for now), looks good in suits. Jonathan Rhys Meyers? Boyish face, clean-cut image, pale skin, thin body frame, looks good in suits. Charlie Sexton (I had a crush on the young Sexton in the mid '90s)? Boyish face, clean-cut image, pale sk-- okay, you get the picture. Even my real life crushes follow this same pattern.
This pattern, BTW, is why I feel that an Alex P. Keaton could've only existed as a teen idol in the androgynous-friendly '80s. See, even though Keaton wasn't androgynous, his boyish, fragile image would not have fit with the stereotyped adorations of the teenage set of an earlier or a later generation. The '70s teen idols were predominantly Mannish with a capital M, featuring crudely square jawbones, facial hair, flannel, and jeans. These boys often looked years older than they actually were because social mores at the time dictated likewise. In the '90s, male teen idols were more youthful but were adorned in more casual gear and were more casual overall. Plus the fact that a character portrayed as being a fan of conservative politics would not have flown in the Clinton '90s. (I wonder if Alex P. Keaton played a role in having my idealized political period be conservative in bent.)
So therein lies the ponderings of the last several years about my first-ever crush, a crush that has influenced me in ways I did not notice for a long time.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Site Talk: The Blitz Kids
A simple blog post this time, pointing out an incredible site devoted to the New Romantic scene, both original and the new vanguard. It is surprising in depth and complexity, covering the musical artists, important clubs, fashion designers, and general hangers-on associated with the all-too-brief (largely) British tribal scene. Though virtually all of the action happened overseas, there also existed a tiny following here in the U.S. at around the time of the scene's first sproutings. There was even one American NuRo band called Combo Audio that had a minor hit, "Romanticide". (More about them as time progresses, I'm sure.) And some of New Romanticism's foremost musical artists gained popular ground Stateside as they moved toward a more conventional "New Pop" sound, most notably Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet.
Unfortunately, as was the case with disco, this bright, shimmering light in the world of popular music was snuffed out here in the States by people who were too scared and closed-minded to embrace the new and the exciting. American music journalists were all too keen to sneer at the New Pop "posers" while they continued to get behind old fogies such as Bruce Springsteen and Bob Seger, and they encouraged John Cougar Mellencamp as a reactionary force against those young artists who dared to embrace synth and dance and makeup and fun. As a result, music in America stagnated while the British and Australians continued to make revolutionary steps in the world of music.
The impact from this was very much felt in the "alternative" '90s. While U.S. teens were continually being exposed to '70s throwbacks Neil Young and Pearl Jam, British teens got to be enthralled by the win-win competitive situation between the glorious pop of Blur and the swirling glam rock of Oasis. While American music listeners had to put up with endless Matchbox 20 and Deep Blue Something song repeats, British music listeners were rewarded with everything from Mansun to Massive Attack to Orbital, certainly not the same thing sonically. The evidence was clear: One decade after the vaguely homophobic and overtly anti-popist standpoints that prominent U.S. music reviewers such as Greil Marcus held killed '80s New Pop's chances to gain serious footing in America, their reactionary viewpoints continued to create a stranglehold environment for American music listeners while their counterparts across the Atlantic, which had only enacted a "Tall Poppy Syndrome"-style ego deflation of the most popular of the New Popsters, were able to nurture an environment where true musical progress could be made.
It has only been very recently, in the wake of contemporary indie artists' unearthing of New Romantic/New Pop gems and an easing of the anti-synth, anti-dance bias here in the States, that people have been waking up to the disservice that the old guard, many of whom were of the Woodstock generation, did to American music. It is their insistence that every musical artist be like the ones who played during the so-called "Summer Of Love" that has left many Americans with a bitter taste in their mouth about anything associated with "rock" music. This left a vacuum in the musical lives of teenagers by the late '90s, which was filled by Svengalis who created assembly line, prepackaged teen pop stars, and by hip-hoppers, who were left to be the only alternative to that truly plastic world. It is not too late for New Romantic/New Pop to be the saviors of the American musical world. The above site can be a handy introduction to the artists who gave teenagers something organic AND fun to indulge in.
Unfortunately, as was the case with disco, this bright, shimmering light in the world of popular music was snuffed out here in the States by people who were too scared and closed-minded to embrace the new and the exciting. American music journalists were all too keen to sneer at the New Pop "posers" while they continued to get behind old fogies such as Bruce Springsteen and Bob Seger, and they encouraged John Cougar Mellencamp as a reactionary force against those young artists who dared to embrace synth and dance and makeup and fun. As a result, music in America stagnated while the British and Australians continued to make revolutionary steps in the world of music.
The impact from this was very much felt in the "alternative" '90s. While U.S. teens were continually being exposed to '70s throwbacks Neil Young and Pearl Jam, British teens got to be enthralled by the win-win competitive situation between the glorious pop of Blur and the swirling glam rock of Oasis. While American music listeners had to put up with endless Matchbox 20 and Deep Blue Something song repeats, British music listeners were rewarded with everything from Mansun to Massive Attack to Orbital, certainly not the same thing sonically. The evidence was clear: One decade after the vaguely homophobic and overtly anti-popist standpoints that prominent U.S. music reviewers such as Greil Marcus held killed '80s New Pop's chances to gain serious footing in America, their reactionary viewpoints continued to create a stranglehold environment for American music listeners while their counterparts across the Atlantic, which had only enacted a "Tall Poppy Syndrome"-style ego deflation of the most popular of the New Popsters, were able to nurture an environment where true musical progress could be made.
It has only been very recently, in the wake of contemporary indie artists' unearthing of New Romantic/New Pop gems and an easing of the anti-synth, anti-dance bias here in the States, that people have been waking up to the disservice that the old guard, many of whom were of the Woodstock generation, did to American music. It is their insistence that every musical artist be like the ones who played during the so-called "Summer Of Love" that has left many Americans with a bitter taste in their mouth about anything associated with "rock" music. This left a vacuum in the musical lives of teenagers by the late '90s, which was filled by Svengalis who created assembly line, prepackaged teen pop stars, and by hip-hoppers, who were left to be the only alternative to that truly plastic world. It is not too late for New Romantic/New Pop to be the saviors of the American musical world. The above site can be a handy introduction to the artists who gave teenagers something organic AND fun to indulge in.
Endgames, "First, Last, For Everything"
For my first real entry, I thought I'd talk about the song I've been obsessed with recently: Endgames' "First, Last, For Everything". Now Endgames is the labor of love project that bassist/Glaswegian David Rudden undertook when he left the darkwave group Berlin Blondes. At first their music was a little on the arty side, but then they got down to funky synthdance business with their album Love Building Beauty. John Peel was a champion of theirs, getting them into the BBC studios to record two Peel sessions. And they had two associations/connections with one of Glasgow's most famous groups, Simple Minds: drummer Brian McGee was a founding member of the Simple Minds from the Johnny & the Self Abusers era, and Paul Wishart played sax on some of the Simple Minds' live dates at around the time of Reel To Real Cacophony (someone feel free to correct me on that).
So hey, big history for a group with so little fanfare or attention outside of Scotland, huh? Well, they definitely deserved a lot more attention and affection. Their music was urgent, romantic, sometimes even anthemic, and funky, with lyrics that verged on the edge of poetry. "First, Last, For Everything" was an early single for the group and a great example of their musical strengths. At the same time that the listener is being swept away by the understated (but lovely) singing, the music swirls around the ears and the brain and hooks the listener in. The synths are tasteful and timeless, Rudden showcases his proficiency with the bass by playing clean, simple, yet strong lines, the drumming is bold without being in your face, and the instrumentation overall is tight. It is, for all intents and purposes, the perfect synthpop song.
I've been obsessed with this track recently, having found on Slsk numerous mixes of it. It could easily be rereleased today on CD as an EP (akin to Duran Duran's Girls On Film EP from 1999) featuring the original track and five remixes. There's the single version, the extended version, the Disconet edit, the club version, and a remixed version incorrectly labeled as being an instrumental mix. I've been especially taken by the club version of the track, which deconstructs the track enough to make it a separate entity but without losing any of the original song's charm. I know that Davids Rudden and Murdoch are currently working on some new Endgames material, so they could very well do the "First, Last, For Everything" EP. How about it, boys?
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
First Blog Post: An Introduction
I've been bemoaning the dearth of blogs that come from my own personal perspective, i.e. that of a twentysomething with a real affection for the pop culture of the New Wave/general '80s scene, for a long time. It's driven me nearly insane. Either I find a blog about that pop cultural time period that comes from the perspective of someone who actually got to live it all and figures most people did too, or I find a blog from someone who was an adolescent during that time period who revels in reliving teenaged gigglefests full of squealiness and little else, or someone's writing about the '80s/New Wave scene from a self-aware, "ironic" perspective, or they're a teenager right now and are engaging in gigglefests full of squealiness and little else. Or I'll find sober discussions of pop culture, but directed at eras that don't fit my general aesthetic. Or I'll read a blog by someone my own age who is enthusiastic about what they love in an intellectual way, but what they love constitutes that which I have always felt I "must", but couldn't muster up enough interest in.
Well, no more; I will document every aspect of '80s/New Wave pop culture that I LOVE, from music to movies to fashion to TV. I will explain my adoration in as non-squealy a manner as possible. Sometimes I might indulge in "OMG HE'S SO HOTTT"-type discussions, but I will keep them to a minimum. That is my pledge to you, the reader. BTW, the title of the blog comes from the song "See Me Repeat Me", a great demo track by Duran Duran that evolved into a song that sucked: "Rio". I figure "we want to please you" is a good assessment of that which I will discuss in this blog, since those discussed elements of pop culture DID and DO please me. There you go. Discussion time over. Let's get on with the show.
Well, no more; I will document every aspect of '80s/New Wave pop culture that I LOVE, from music to movies to fashion to TV. I will explain my adoration in as non-squealy a manner as possible. Sometimes I might indulge in "OMG HE'S SO HOTTT"-type discussions, but I will keep them to a minimum. That is my pledge to you, the reader. BTW, the title of the blog comes from the song "See Me Repeat Me", a great demo track by Duran Duran that evolved into a song that sucked: "Rio". I figure "we want to please you" is a good assessment of that which I will discuss in this blog, since those discussed elements of pop culture DID and DO please me. There you go. Discussion time over. Let's get on with the show.
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