Echo & the Bunnymen - "Bring on the Dancing Horses"
(Single Release: November 1985)
Ta-da! Here now is the last entry in my survey of great songs from 1985. In my opinion, I saved the best for last. I have already mentioned this band as one of my holy triumvirate, along with the Smiths and New Order, which completely opened my world to a brand new kind of musical experience. Not that this is some kind of transcendental thing, but I suppose it is as close as pop music comes in my personal experience. Though I am not really one for nonsensical lyrics, "Bring on the Dancing Horses" is an exception, especially because they seem to be literary, either metaphors for another experience, or allusions to past material (it always makes me think of Equus). I have not tried that hard to find an interpretation because I think it might be ruined for me. Whether it's about the realization of the end of a relationship or about drug abuse (as nearly every commenter on song lyric sites seem to think about EVERY song), it doesn't seem to matter to me. I'd rather listen to this gorgeous song in blissful ignorance, then sing along with "Shiver and say the words / of every lie you've heard / First I'm gonna make it / Then I'm gonna break it / Till it falls apart / Hating all the faking / And shaking while I'm breaking / Your brittle heart." I first heard this track as I was just discovering Echo. I picked up their compilation album, Songs to Learn and Sing and it shook me to the core. "Bring on the Dancing Horses" was not only a brand new single, but it was also included on this compilation. It was originally recorded specifically for the John Hughes film (a running theme), Pretty in Pink, but the band released it four months early. I have saved this song for last as it pretty much defines 1985, and most of 1986 for me. It is a musical shove beyond Top 40 radio and into what was then called either college rock or alternative. I ended up seeing Echo & the Bunnymen perform twice, and they have remained one of my go-to bands over the successive years. For some, the inclusion of just one new song on a compilation album of past singles might have been a gimmick, but for me, in this instance, it was a touchstone and a symbol of what would be a lifelong passion. "Bring on the new messiah / Wherever he may roam."
One man's writings, thoughts, and appreciations of all things cultural.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Tuesday's Playlist: 8-30-11
Band of Skulls – “Honest”
Thomas Dolby – “Flying North”
Regina Spektor – “Hero”
Lindsey Buckingham – “Holiday Road / Dancin’ Across the USA”
Gomez – “That Wolf”
Heart – “Barracuda (Live)”
The National – “Son”
ABC- “Be Near Me”
AC/DC – “Highway to Hell”
The Swell Season – “The Swell Season”
Elliott Smith – “A Distorted Reality (Is a Necessity to Be Free)”
Eels – “Mystery of Life”
Yello – “Oh Yeah”
Oneohtrix Point Never – “Woe is the Transgression I”
The Hooters – “All You Zombies”
The Coconutz – “Everybody Hurts”
The Black Angels – “Yellow Elevator #2”
Heart – “Sing Child”
Spoon – “Vittorio E”
Led Zeppelin – “When the Levee Breaks”
The Corin Tucker Band – “Handed Love”
Godspeed You! Black Emperor – “Storm: Lift Yr. Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven / Gathering Storm / “Welcome to Barco Am/Pm…” / Cancer Towers on Holy Road Hi-Way”
The Lonely Island – “Mama”
Drive Like Jehu – “Do You Compute”
Split Enz – “Iris”
R.E.M. – “Driver 8”
Joe Jackson – “Is She Really Going Out With Him?”
Patrick Park – “Honest Skrew”
Billy Idol – “It’s So Cruel”
Rush – “The Spirit of Radio”
X- “Los Angeles”
My Bloody Valentine – “Honey Power”
Cake – “Open Book”
The Vapors – “Turning Japanese”
James Blake – “Measurements”
Ministry – “Golden Dawn”
Natalie Merchant – “Owensboro”
Squeeze – “There’s No Tomorrow”
The Kinks – “She’s Bought a Hat Like Princess Marina”
Luscious Jackson – “Alien Lover”
Billy Idol – “Come On, Come On”
Johnny Wakelin – “In Zaire”
David Bowie – “I Feel Free”
Aimee Mann – “Calling It Quits”
Mercury Rev – “Holes”
Asia – “Here Comes the Feeling”
Glasser – “Learn”
Sara Watkins – “Too Much”
Susanna Hoffs – “We Close Our Eyes”
Destroyer – “Chinatown”
Total & Notorious B.I.G. – “Can’t You See”
Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers – “Shadow of a Doubt (A Complex Kid) (Live)”
The Walker Brothers – “My Ship is Coming In”
Smashing Pumpkins – “Siva”
Elton John – “Tiny Dancer”
Fleetwood Mac – “Storms”
Sinead O’Connor – “Nothing Compares 2 U”
The Fixx – “Saved by Zero”
X- “Nausea”
Cabaret Voltaire – “Baader Meinhof”
The 88 – “No One Here”
Boston – “Feelin’ Satisfied”
The Black Crowes – “Sometimes Salvation”
Medicine – “Little Miss Drugstore”
Mystery Jets – “Waiting on a Miracle”
Mew – “Silas the Magic Car”
Cake – “Italian Leather Sofa”
Otis Redding – “These Arms of Mine”
Cake – “Is This Love?”
Bruce Springsteen – “Rendezvous”
Nick Drake – “Fly”
Sunny Day Real Estate – “Grendel”
Suede – “Music Like Sex”
West Indian Girl – “What Are You Afraid Of?”
Little River Band – “The Other Guy”
Gorillaz – “Cloud of Unknowing”
Gang Gang Dance – “Mindkilla”
The Chameleons – “Home is Where the Heart Is”
New Order – “In a Lonely Place”
No Age – “Neck Escaper”
Glen Hansard – “Leave”
Outkast – “SpottieOttieDopalicious”
Fennesz – “Caecilia”
Def Leppard – “High ‘n’ Dry (Saturday Night) (Live)”
Philadelphia Grand Jury – “I Got You”
Ra Ra Riot – “Oh, La”
Luscious Jackson – “Why Do I Lie?”
Hall & Oates – “Rich Girl”
Blueprint – “Five Years Ago”
Flight of the Conchords – “Hurt Feelings”
Yeasayer – “Grizelda”
The Tallest Man on Earth – “King of Spain”
The Motels – “Only the Lonely”
Prince – “Hot Thing (Extended Remix)”
Stars – “Dead Hearts”
Thomas Dolby – “Flying North”
Regina Spektor – “Hero”
Lindsey Buckingham – “Holiday Road / Dancin’ Across the USA”
Gomez – “That Wolf”
Heart – “Barracuda (Live)”
The National – “Son”
ABC- “Be Near Me”
AC/DC – “Highway to Hell”
The Swell Season – “The Swell Season”
Elliott Smith – “A Distorted Reality (Is a Necessity to Be Free)”
Eels – “Mystery of Life”
Yello – “Oh Yeah”
Oneohtrix Point Never – “Woe is the Transgression I”
The Hooters – “All You Zombies”
The Coconutz – “Everybody Hurts”
The Black Angels – “Yellow Elevator #2”
Heart – “Sing Child”
Spoon – “Vittorio E”
Led Zeppelin – “When the Levee Breaks”
The Corin Tucker Band – “Handed Love”
Godspeed You! Black Emperor – “Storm: Lift Yr. Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven / Gathering Storm / “Welcome to Barco Am/Pm…” / Cancer Towers on Holy Road Hi-Way”
The Lonely Island – “Mama”
Drive Like Jehu – “Do You Compute”
Split Enz – “Iris”
R.E.M. – “Driver 8”
Joe Jackson – “Is She Really Going Out With Him?”
Patrick Park – “Honest Skrew”
Billy Idol – “It’s So Cruel”
Rush – “The Spirit of Radio”
X- “Los Angeles”
My Bloody Valentine – “Honey Power”
Cake – “Open Book”
The Vapors – “Turning Japanese”
James Blake – “Measurements”
Ministry – “Golden Dawn”
Natalie Merchant – “Owensboro”
Squeeze – “There’s No Tomorrow”
The Kinks – “She’s Bought a Hat Like Princess Marina”
Luscious Jackson – “Alien Lover”
Billy Idol – “Come On, Come On”
Johnny Wakelin – “In Zaire”
David Bowie – “I Feel Free”
Aimee Mann – “Calling It Quits”
Mercury Rev – “Holes”
Asia – “Here Comes the Feeling”
Glasser – “Learn”
Sara Watkins – “Too Much”
Susanna Hoffs – “We Close Our Eyes”
Destroyer – “Chinatown”
Total & Notorious B.I.G. – “Can’t You See”
Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers – “Shadow of a Doubt (A Complex Kid) (Live)”
The Walker Brothers – “My Ship is Coming In”
Smashing Pumpkins – “Siva”
Elton John – “Tiny Dancer”
Fleetwood Mac – “Storms”
Sinead O’Connor – “Nothing Compares 2 U”
The Fixx – “Saved by Zero”
X- “Nausea”
Cabaret Voltaire – “Baader Meinhof”
The 88 – “No One Here”
Boston – “Feelin’ Satisfied”
The Black Crowes – “Sometimes Salvation”
Medicine – “Little Miss Drugstore”
Mystery Jets – “Waiting on a Miracle”
Mew – “Silas the Magic Car”
Cake – “Italian Leather Sofa”
Otis Redding – “These Arms of Mine”
Cake – “Is This Love?”
Bruce Springsteen – “Rendezvous”
Nick Drake – “Fly”
Sunny Day Real Estate – “Grendel”
Suede – “Music Like Sex”
West Indian Girl – “What Are You Afraid Of?”
Little River Band – “The Other Guy”
Gorillaz – “Cloud of Unknowing”
Gang Gang Dance – “Mindkilla”
The Chameleons – “Home is Where the Heart Is”
New Order – “In a Lonely Place”
No Age – “Neck Escaper”
Glen Hansard – “Leave”
Outkast – “SpottieOttieDopalicious”
Fennesz – “Caecilia”
Def Leppard – “High ‘n’ Dry (Saturday Night) (Live)”
Philadelphia Grand Jury – “I Got You”
Ra Ra Riot – “Oh, La”
Luscious Jackson – “Why Do I Lie?”
Hall & Oates – “Rich Girl”
Blueprint – “Five Years Ago”
Flight of the Conchords – “Hurt Feelings”
Yeasayer – “Grizelda”
The Tallest Man on Earth – “King of Spain”
The Motels – “Only the Lonely”
Prince – “Hot Thing (Extended Remix)”
Stars – “Dead Hearts”
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 62
General Public - "Never You Done That"
(Single Release: 1985?)
Let's start with the question mark you see above. This entry in this parade of great songs from 1985 might be cheating, but only just a little. You see, the General Public album, All the Rage, and most of its subsequent singles came out in 1984. But, the subject of this particular post, "Never You Done That," was released as a promo single in 1985, paired with "Tenderness," for some unknown reason. Okay, qualification over. Now we can get back to me fawning over long forgotten tracks from my junior high school days. Let's start with the English Beat, shall we? Or, as they were originally called, over in their home country, the Beat. When I speak of my favorite bands, the holy triumvirate of the Smiths, New Order, and Echo, and even other bands of that time like the Cure, Depeche Mode, Talking Heads, the Jesus and Mary Chain, Oingo Boingo, R.E.M., and the Waterboys, I somehow seem to inconveniently pass over the English Beat, and I don't know why. They really are one of the best bands, with their album, Special Beat Service as an example of a near-perfect album, jam-packed with incredibly infectious tunes. As Greg Proops has said in his podcast, The Smartest Man in the World, "Save it for Later" is probably the best song ever recorded. Hyperbole aside, the English Beat are often forgotten as one of the bastions of hope for popular music in the 80s. Though I would consider General Public, the offshoot of the Beat with the two frontmen, Dave Wakeling and Ranking Roger, a step below the English Beat, they are still a fantastic band. Though I love me some "Tenderness," I also have a huge fondness for "Never You Done That," a song that sounds like it could have been ripped from Special Beat Service. I will have to admit, however, that as a budding young snob that would become an English major in about six years, I did have problems with the grammar of the title, but those agitations are quickly forgotten once the song begins. And, considering the recent resurgent fad of whistling in songs, it is ripe for revisitation.
(Single Release: 1985?)
Let's start with the question mark you see above. This entry in this parade of great songs from 1985 might be cheating, but only just a little. You see, the General Public album, All the Rage, and most of its subsequent singles came out in 1984. But, the subject of this particular post, "Never You Done That," was released as a promo single in 1985, paired with "Tenderness," for some unknown reason. Okay, qualification over. Now we can get back to me fawning over long forgotten tracks from my junior high school days. Let's start with the English Beat, shall we? Or, as they were originally called, over in their home country, the Beat. When I speak of my favorite bands, the holy triumvirate of the Smiths, New Order, and Echo, and even other bands of that time like the Cure, Depeche Mode, Talking Heads, the Jesus and Mary Chain, Oingo Boingo, R.E.M., and the Waterboys, I somehow seem to inconveniently pass over the English Beat, and I don't know why. They really are one of the best bands, with their album, Special Beat Service as an example of a near-perfect album, jam-packed with incredibly infectious tunes. As Greg Proops has said in his podcast, The Smartest Man in the World, "Save it for Later" is probably the best song ever recorded. Hyperbole aside, the English Beat are often forgotten as one of the bastions of hope for popular music in the 80s. Though I would consider General Public, the offshoot of the Beat with the two frontmen, Dave Wakeling and Ranking Roger, a step below the English Beat, they are still a fantastic band. Though I love me some "Tenderness," I also have a huge fondness for "Never You Done That," a song that sounds like it could have been ripped from Special Beat Service. I will have to admit, however, that as a budding young snob that would become an English major in about six years, I did have problems with the grammar of the title, but those agitations are quickly forgotten once the song begins. And, considering the recent resurgent fad of whistling in songs, it is ripe for revisitation.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 61
Paul Young - "Every Time You Go Away"
(Single Release: February 1985)
As you can plainly see, I have no problem qualifying cover songs as great songs of 1985. Of course, somehow, I never knew this was a cover until very recently, despite my unironic love of Hall and Oates. Though the H&O album on which it appears contains "Kiss on My List" and "You Make My Dreams," it still came at a time when deep album cuts didn't get much play. Though Hall & Oates never released it as a single, and I'm not sure why they didn't, it finally got its due five years later through this cover by Paul Young. Young was another blue-eyed soul songster who had started his career by doing covers of songs by Marvin Gaye ("Wherever I Lay My Hat (That's My Home)") and the Four Preps ("Love of the Common People"). "Every Time You Go Away," which I simply must say is one of Daryl Hall's best written songs, became synonymous with Young and was his only #1 hit. I'm hard pressed at this point to tell you which version I prefer, because, although I love Hall & Oates, and they did the original, Paul Young certainly belts this one out with gusto and passion. I really enjoy the direct, Motown-style conversational aspect of the lyrics, with Hall or Young addressing a significant other, "Baby, if we can't solve any problems / Then why do we lose so many tears". And, guess what? As a theme that tends to be going through these blog posts, it is included in a great soundtrack, and not just any soundtrack, a John Hughes soundtrack. Though I wouldn't count Planes, Trains, and Automobiles as part of Hughes' span of teen comedies, I can't look past the fact that this song makes me well up at the end of the movie, which is a feat for a zany John Candy and Steve Martin vehicle (forgive the pun).
(Single Release: February 1985)
As you can plainly see, I have no problem qualifying cover songs as great songs of 1985. Of course, somehow, I never knew this was a cover until very recently, despite my unironic love of Hall and Oates. Though the H&O album on which it appears contains "Kiss on My List" and "You Make My Dreams," it still came at a time when deep album cuts didn't get much play. Though Hall & Oates never released it as a single, and I'm not sure why they didn't, it finally got its due five years later through this cover by Paul Young. Young was another blue-eyed soul songster who had started his career by doing covers of songs by Marvin Gaye ("Wherever I Lay My Hat (That's My Home)") and the Four Preps ("Love of the Common People"). "Every Time You Go Away," which I simply must say is one of Daryl Hall's best written songs, became synonymous with Young and was his only #1 hit. I'm hard pressed at this point to tell you which version I prefer, because, although I love Hall & Oates, and they did the original, Paul Young certainly belts this one out with gusto and passion. I really enjoy the direct, Motown-style conversational aspect of the lyrics, with Hall or Young addressing a significant other, "Baby, if we can't solve any problems / Then why do we lose so many tears". And, guess what? As a theme that tends to be going through these blog posts, it is included in a great soundtrack, and not just any soundtrack, a John Hughes soundtrack. Though I wouldn't count Planes, Trains, and Automobiles as part of Hughes' span of teen comedies, I can't look past the fact that this song makes me well up at the end of the movie, which is a feat for a zany John Candy and Steve Martin vehicle (forgive the pun).
Friday, August 26, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 60
David Bowie - "This is Not America"
(Single Release: February 1985)
Hey kids, remember The Falcon and the Snowman? Well, that's a shame. Not that I remember it all that well, but it seems like it should have been a good film. A young Sean Penn, director John Schlesinger, and Steven Zallian's first produced script? Yeah, it should be great. But, it is certainly not bandied about as one of the great movies of this or any other generation. But, it is known, at least among Bowie fans, as the film with "This is Not America," a collaboration with the movie's music producer, jazz musician Pat Metheny. It was written between two of Bowie's lesser albums, and when I say that, friends know that I say it lovingly. To some, it is a lone blip of brilliance amidst a few low points. It is, in fact, one of my favorite ever Bowie tracks. Why? There is just something about the laid-back nature of it, the dynamic range of Bowie's vocals, going from low croon to falsetto, and who can't resist the "sha-la-la-la's"? The song also contains some of the most intriguing lyrics in Bowie's career. I particularly enjoy the comparative end lines of "This is not America" and "This is not a miracle." Written specifically for the film, and even referencing the title character code names, the song spins a tale about Russian spies. But, in today's climate, I often have the song running through my brain whenever I hear about social injustices in this country. Writing this, and hearing his music, makes me once again realize that I miss David Bowie immensely. It has been eight long years since he has released any album-length material, when the longest he had ever gone before between albums was three years. Some say he won't release any more music. I don't even want to think about that version of reality. I'd rather hold out hope.
(Single Release: February 1985)
Hey kids, remember The Falcon and the Snowman? Well, that's a shame. Not that I remember it all that well, but it seems like it should have been a good film. A young Sean Penn, director John Schlesinger, and Steven Zallian's first produced script? Yeah, it should be great. But, it is certainly not bandied about as one of the great movies of this or any other generation. But, it is known, at least among Bowie fans, as the film with "This is Not America," a collaboration with the movie's music producer, jazz musician Pat Metheny. It was written between two of Bowie's lesser albums, and when I say that, friends know that I say it lovingly. To some, it is a lone blip of brilliance amidst a few low points. It is, in fact, one of my favorite ever Bowie tracks. Why? There is just something about the laid-back nature of it, the dynamic range of Bowie's vocals, going from low croon to falsetto, and who can't resist the "sha-la-la-la's"? The song also contains some of the most intriguing lyrics in Bowie's career. I particularly enjoy the comparative end lines of "This is not America" and "This is not a miracle." Written specifically for the film, and even referencing the title character code names, the song spins a tale about Russian spies. But, in today's climate, I often have the song running through my brain whenever I hear about social injustices in this country. Writing this, and hearing his music, makes me once again realize that I miss David Bowie immensely. It has been eight long years since he has released any album-length material, when the longest he had ever gone before between albums was three years. Some say he won't release any more music. I don't even want to think about that version of reality. I'd rather hold out hope.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 59
Arcadia - "Election Day"
(Single Release: October 1985)
And here we have the second side of the story, the embittered half of the relationship, if you will. Some half-a-year plus after The Power Station hit the charts, those left in the wreckage of the relationship that was Duran Duran were left to pick up the pieces and try to convince their absent partners that they could date around, too. Consisting of singer Simon LeBon, keyboardist Nick Rhodes, and drummer Roger Taylor, Arcadia was the yin to the Power Station's yang. Whereas the PS veered off into a different direction, guided by two members from Chic, Arcadia was resolute to continue making music in the tradition of their old union. It was as if they were in severe denial about the breakup, refusing to move on, insisting that it wasn't really over. Even the cover for their one album release, So Red the Rose, is somewhat reminiscent of Rio, with a stylized portraiture of an attractive and exotic woman. It's Jean Cocteau vs. Nagel. It has been said that the title of the album is almost a palindrome. I hate to break it to you, but almosta palindrome isn't anything. It's like when my friend, Brian, used to remark upon close calls such as this and insist that you read it "sideways." The album was successful, going platinum, which is certainly huge by today's dismal sales standards. Even by standards back then, Duran Duran had never gone beyond platinum, but the first three DD records had reached the top ten in the UK and US, while Arcadia only got as high as 23. That must be why Nick Rhodes called the two side projects "commercial suicide." Pfft. I know. Total failures, right? (Sarcasm). The truth is, Arcadia was not a failure per se, but instead merely an extension of the original band, with a few pretty darn great songs. "Election Day" is the short-lived trio's most popular single and it is easy to hear why. Dynamic synthesizers back up Simon LeBon's signature vocals that are highlighted with processed punctuating horns and a memorable chorus, as well as, wait for it, a spoken word section by Grace Jones! As I mentioned yesterday, however, the lyrics are a bit byzantine and strange, bordering on nonsensical, at least as compared to the songs penned by their departed partners. I can't say that I like Arcadia more than any of the first three Duran Duran albums, but it is still enjoyable.
(Single Release: October 1985)
And here we have the second side of the story, the embittered half of the relationship, if you will. Some half-a-year plus after The Power Station hit the charts, those left in the wreckage of the relationship that was Duran Duran were left to pick up the pieces and try to convince their absent partners that they could date around, too. Consisting of singer Simon LeBon, keyboardist Nick Rhodes, and drummer Roger Taylor, Arcadia was the yin to the Power Station's yang. Whereas the PS veered off into a different direction, guided by two members from Chic, Arcadia was resolute to continue making music in the tradition of their old union. It was as if they were in severe denial about the breakup, refusing to move on, insisting that it wasn't really over. Even the cover for their one album release, So Red the Rose, is somewhat reminiscent of Rio, with a stylized portraiture of an attractive and exotic woman. It's Jean Cocteau vs. Nagel. It has been said that the title of the album is almost a palindrome. I hate to break it to you, but almosta palindrome isn't anything. It's like when my friend, Brian, used to remark upon close calls such as this and insist that you read it "sideways." The album was successful, going platinum, which is certainly huge by today's dismal sales standards. Even by standards back then, Duran Duran had never gone beyond platinum, but the first three DD records had reached the top ten in the UK and US, while Arcadia only got as high as 23. That must be why Nick Rhodes called the two side projects "commercial suicide." Pfft. I know. Total failures, right? (Sarcasm). The truth is, Arcadia was not a failure per se, but instead merely an extension of the original band, with a few pretty darn great songs. "Election Day" is the short-lived trio's most popular single and it is easy to hear why. Dynamic synthesizers back up Simon LeBon's signature vocals that are highlighted with processed punctuating horns and a memorable chorus, as well as, wait for it, a spoken word section by Grace Jones! As I mentioned yesterday, however, the lyrics are a bit byzantine and strange, bordering on nonsensical, at least as compared to the songs penned by their departed partners. I can't say that I like Arcadia more than any of the first three Duran Duran albums, but it is still enjoyable.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 58
The Power Station - "Some Like it Hot"
(Single Release: March 1985)
First of all, for those of you saying, "It's just Power Station, dummyhead, not The Power Station," well, you're wrong. Take a look at their album and single covers. Case closed. Now that's out of the way, let's talk about breakups. For John and Andy Taylor, it wasn't them, it was you (looking squarely at the synthesizer). No, I don't think they had a tiff with Nick Rhodes. Instead, they just wanted to get away from the signature 80s synth-pop that made Duran Duran so famous. While Simon and Nick (Roger played for both bands, he just wanted Mommy and Daddy to stop fighting) went off to do Arcadia, continuing to be happy in the synth rut they had created, John and Andy started seeing other people, namely Robert Palmer and Tony Thompson (and producer Bernard Edwards). That dalliance was fruitful, for sure. Their debut album, rooted in a funk rhythm section, hit #6 on the album charts and spawned two top ten singles, including "Some Like It Hot." Sure, one was a cover of T. Rex's "Bang a Gong (Get it On)," but who cares? There is always some form of revisionist history when it comes to breakups. Suddenly, the dumped say it was mutual or reversed, things said in the heat of argument are quickly and intentionally forgotten, and any subsequent relationships are never as good. So, Nick Rhodes said that the two bands were "commercial suicide." Of course, this coming from the lesser successful band of the two. Hmmm. Jeeeealllouuuus? Yep, John and Andy traded in an off key, caterwauling singer (and I like Simon LeBon, so step off, it's true) for a workaday steady funkster and probably the best pure musicians they've ever played with in Thompson and Edwards, both formerly of Chic. I'll be honest, I can't remember if the whole album was great shakes, but I sure do like "Some Like it Hot." The lyrics may be simple and fairly meaningless, but simple ended up to be far more memorable than elaborate and meaningless (more on that tomorrow). Of course, it didn't matter how good this relationship might have been. Eventually, John and Andy started missing what they used to have. Aw, baby, I can't stay mad at you! Duran Duran got back together and gave us quite a few more hits (and a few more stinkers, let's be realistic), but maybe it took them seeing other people in order to appreciate what they had.
p.s. One of my favorite things in the world is hearing Jimmy Pardo sing "Some Like it Hot" on his podcast. Cracks me up every time.
(Single Release: March 1985)
First of all, for those of you saying, "It's just Power Station, dummyhead, not The Power Station," well, you're wrong. Take a look at their album and single covers. Case closed. Now that's out of the way, let's talk about breakups. For John and Andy Taylor, it wasn't them, it was you (looking squarely at the synthesizer). No, I don't think they had a tiff with Nick Rhodes. Instead, they just wanted to get away from the signature 80s synth-pop that made Duran Duran so famous. While Simon and Nick (Roger played for both bands, he just wanted Mommy and Daddy to stop fighting) went off to do Arcadia, continuing to be happy in the synth rut they had created, John and Andy started seeing other people, namely Robert Palmer and Tony Thompson (and producer Bernard Edwards). That dalliance was fruitful, for sure. Their debut album, rooted in a funk rhythm section, hit #6 on the album charts and spawned two top ten singles, including "Some Like It Hot." Sure, one was a cover of T. Rex's "Bang a Gong (Get it On)," but who cares? There is always some form of revisionist history when it comes to breakups. Suddenly, the dumped say it was mutual or reversed, things said in the heat of argument are quickly and intentionally forgotten, and any subsequent relationships are never as good. So, Nick Rhodes said that the two bands were "commercial suicide." Of course, this coming from the lesser successful band of the two. Hmmm. Jeeeealllouuuus? Yep, John and Andy traded in an off key, caterwauling singer (and I like Simon LeBon, so step off, it's true) for a workaday steady funkster and probably the best pure musicians they've ever played with in Thompson and Edwards, both formerly of Chic. I'll be honest, I can't remember if the whole album was great shakes, but I sure do like "Some Like it Hot." The lyrics may be simple and fairly meaningless, but simple ended up to be far more memorable than elaborate and meaningless (more on that tomorrow). Of course, it didn't matter how good this relationship might have been. Eventually, John and Andy started missing what they used to have. Aw, baby, I can't stay mad at you! Duran Duran got back together and gave us quite a few more hits (and a few more stinkers, let's be realistic), but maybe it took them seeing other people in order to appreciate what they had.
p.s. One of my favorite things in the world is hearing Jimmy Pardo sing "Some Like it Hot" on his podcast. Cracks me up every time.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 57
Camper Van Beethoven - "Take the Skinheads Bowling"
(Album Release: 1985)
Is this a song about social harmony or does it mean absolutely nothing? I don't know, but I enjoy the hell out of this song. Of course, Michael Moore managed to find not so subtle meaning in it and included a cover version of it to open up his film, Bowling for Columbine. Isn't that what the best art is all about? The fact that a song, with lyrics as silly as this one, can be so wildly funny and entertaining while at the same time providing a much deeper interpretation, is testament to its genius. Though I liked this song quite a bit in 1985, I didn't become a huge Camper Van fan until their major label releases, Our Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart and Key Lime Pie. "Pictures of Matchstick Men" is still one of my favorite covers of all time. "Skinheads," however, is the first successful song from a band that was not and is not appreciated near enough. Coming from Redlands, CA and displaying such eclecticism in their music probably had people pegging them as stoners, but this song proved that all labels and stereotypes were not to be taken seriously. This song also introduced me to the riveting voice of David Lowery who would go on to form his second underrated band, Cracker. But, before I finish this up, take a look at the lyrics of the song in all their dadaist, nonsensical glory and tell me it doesn't make you smile just a little.
(Album Release: 1985)
Is this a song about social harmony or does it mean absolutely nothing? I don't know, but I enjoy the hell out of this song. Of course, Michael Moore managed to find not so subtle meaning in it and included a cover version of it to open up his film, Bowling for Columbine. Isn't that what the best art is all about? The fact that a song, with lyrics as silly as this one, can be so wildly funny and entertaining while at the same time providing a much deeper interpretation, is testament to its genius. Though I liked this song quite a bit in 1985, I didn't become a huge Camper Van fan until their major label releases, Our Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart and Key Lime Pie. "Pictures of Matchstick Men" is still one of my favorite covers of all time. "Skinheads," however, is the first successful song from a band that was not and is not appreciated near enough. Coming from Redlands, CA and displaying such eclecticism in their music probably had people pegging them as stoners, but this song proved that all labels and stereotypes were not to be taken seriously. This song also introduced me to the riveting voice of David Lowery who would go on to form his second underrated band, Cracker. But, before I finish this up, take a look at the lyrics of the song in all their dadaist, nonsensical glory and tell me it doesn't make you smile just a little.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 56
Minor Threat - "Salad Days"
(EP Release: 1985)
I'm not sure there's a better way to start a Monday. I have my college girlfriend to thank for introducing me to Minor Threat, arguably the most important band to come out of Washington, D.C. Salad Days was Minor Threat's last release, issued after the band had already broken up. As such, it was somewhat of a bridge, metaphorically and sonically, to Ian MacKaye's later projects, including the great Fugazi. The song's title has its origins in Shakespeare, meaning a time of youth and inexperience. So, it is somewhat fitting that this post-breakup track is somewhat wistful about the old days. Though this song is incredibly fast, it probably seemed somewhat slower to most Minor Threat fans at the time. This slight change in tempo and style can certainly be followed to Fugazi. And, like most MInor Threat songs, if you can make out the lyrics, they are incredibly deep, insightful, and well written. There is a lot of meaning packed into "But I stay on, I stay on / Where do I get off? / On to greener pastures / The core has gotten soft." Frankly, that bass intro gives me paroxysms of anxious anticipation every time. It's also the best use of chimes since AC/DC's "Hell's Bells." And a hardcore punk song with melody? This could easily be my favorite hardcore track of all time. Yeah. Damn. Now I'm ready for the week.
(EP Release: 1985)
I'm not sure there's a better way to start a Monday. I have my college girlfriend to thank for introducing me to Minor Threat, arguably the most important band to come out of Washington, D.C. Salad Days was Minor Threat's last release, issued after the band had already broken up. As such, it was somewhat of a bridge, metaphorically and sonically, to Ian MacKaye's later projects, including the great Fugazi. The song's title has its origins in Shakespeare, meaning a time of youth and inexperience. So, it is somewhat fitting that this post-breakup track is somewhat wistful about the old days. Though this song is incredibly fast, it probably seemed somewhat slower to most Minor Threat fans at the time. This slight change in tempo and style can certainly be followed to Fugazi. And, like most MInor Threat songs, if you can make out the lyrics, they are incredibly deep, insightful, and well written. There is a lot of meaning packed into "But I stay on, I stay on / Where do I get off? / On to greener pastures / The core has gotten soft." Frankly, that bass intro gives me paroxysms of anxious anticipation every time. It's also the best use of chimes since AC/DC's "Hell's Bells." And a hardcore punk song with melody? This could easily be my favorite hardcore track of all time. Yeah. Damn. Now I'm ready for the week.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Sunday's Playlist: 8-21-11
Jawbox – “Absenter / Cornflake Girl”
Les Savy Fav – “Appetites”
Edith Piaf – “La Vie En Rose”
TV on the Radio – “Golden Age”
Miles Davis – “Ah-Leu-Cha”
Public Enemy – “Prophets of Rage”
Echo & the Bunnymen – “I Want to Be There (When You Come)”
Marvin Gaye – “Sixties Medley”
James Murphy – “People”
The Drums – “We Tried”
Len – “Steal My Sunshine”
Suede – “Dead Leg (Beautiful Ones) (Demo)”
The Black Angels – “Entrance Song”
The Dears – “Omega Dog”
Mew – “Special”
Stevie Wonder – “Keep On Running”
Dexys Midnight Runners – “Reminisce Pt 1”
Gruff Rhys – “Vitamin K”
Sleeper – “Sale of the Century”
Band of Skulls – “Death by Diamonds and Pearls”
Ramin Djawadi – “The Pointy End”
Hothouse Flowers – “The Older We Get”
Billy Squier – “It Keeps You Rockin’”
Bon Iver – “Skinny Love”
Mogwai – “Tracy”
The Books – “We Bought the Flood”
Gang Gang Dance – “Glass Jar”
Ministry – “Dream Song”
Daniel Martin Moore – “All Ye Tenderhearted”
Jeff Beck – “Hi Ho Silver Lining”
Robyn – “Include Me Out”
Fonda – “My Heart is Dancing”
Fountains of Wayne – “You Curse at Girls”
The Korgis – “Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime”
Journey – “Only the Young”
REO Speedwagon – “In Your Letter”
Stockholm Monsters – “All at Once”
The Cure – “Fascination Street (Live)”
Big Daddy Kane – “Give a Demonstration”
Howard Jones – “Pearl in the Shell”
Genesis – “Abacab”
OMD – “New Holy Ground”
Belle & Sebastian – “Read the Blessed Pages”
Les Savy Fav – “Appetites”
Edith Piaf – “La Vie En Rose”
TV on the Radio – “Golden Age”
Miles Davis – “Ah-Leu-Cha”
Public Enemy – “Prophets of Rage”
Echo & the Bunnymen – “I Want to Be There (When You Come)”
Marvin Gaye – “Sixties Medley”
James Murphy – “People”
The Drums – “We Tried”
Len – “Steal My Sunshine”
Suede – “Dead Leg (Beautiful Ones) (Demo)”
The Black Angels – “Entrance Song”
The Dears – “Omega Dog”
Mew – “Special”
Stevie Wonder – “Keep On Running”
Dexys Midnight Runners – “Reminisce Pt 1”
Gruff Rhys – “Vitamin K”
Sleeper – “Sale of the Century”
Band of Skulls – “Death by Diamonds and Pearls”
Ramin Djawadi – “The Pointy End”
Hothouse Flowers – “The Older We Get”
Billy Squier – “It Keeps You Rockin’”
Bon Iver – “Skinny Love”
Mogwai – “Tracy”
The Books – “We Bought the Flood”
Gang Gang Dance – “Glass Jar”
Ministry – “Dream Song”
Daniel Martin Moore – “All Ye Tenderhearted”
Jeff Beck – “Hi Ho Silver Lining”
Robyn – “Include Me Out”
Fonda – “My Heart is Dancing”
Fountains of Wayne – “You Curse at Girls”
The Korgis – “Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime”
Journey – “Only the Young”
REO Speedwagon – “In Your Letter”
Stockholm Monsters – “All at Once”
The Cure – “Fascination Street (Live)”
Big Daddy Kane – “Give a Demonstration”
Howard Jones – “Pearl in the Shell”
Genesis – “Abacab”
OMD – “New Holy Ground”
Belle & Sebastian – “Read the Blessed Pages”
Films of the 60s, Part 11: They Like Their Water Hot
“Samurai like their water hot. Very brave.” – Oingo Boingo, “Reptiles and Samurai"
Sanjūrō (1961, Akira Kurosawa)
Akira Kurosawa pretty much wrote the book on samurai films, called “chanbara” (sword-fighting movies) and “jidaigeki” (period dramas) in Japan. Most of his signature films were made in the 50s, but the 60s was another fruitful decade for Kurosawa in the samurai realm, specifically the connected films, Yojimbo and Sanjūrō. I’ll eventually get to writing about Yojimbo, but I decided to be a little unconventional and start with the “sequel.” For Sanjūrō, once again Kurosawa is reunited with his actor of choice, Toshirō Mifune, who plays the unnamed ronin / samurai. "Sanjūrō" is the only name he offers, but that literally translates into “thirty-ish,” further giving a longer name, Tsubaki Sanjūrō, which means “thirty year-old Camellia tree.” As is usual for these samurai films, it is set at the end of the Tokugawa shogunate, a time when samurai protection and employment was coming to an end, finding samurai as ronin, clanless warriors wandering around Japan either looking for the odd “free agent” gig or a new master to serve. Generally, Kurosawa and Mifune’s vision of the ronin is one who doesn’t brag, only shows his skills when necessary, and is, for the most part, reserved and quiet, much like their Western counterparts, the Clint Eastwood type cowboys.
The film begins with “Sanjūrō” overhearing nine desperate samurai who are fighting corruption in their village. He ends up advising them, proving his wisdom in predicting the actions of their adversaries. He, of course, is able drive them off singlehandedly. He continues to help them in their mission to rid the village of corruption, including a rescue mission to liberate the lord chamberlain’s wife and daughter. These two women end up to be curious characters indeed, acting somewhat as the conscience of the film, giving Sanjūrō pause, making him think somewhat existentially, pondering his own nature and place in the world. “Killing people is a bad habit,” says the wife (with a mouth full of black teeth, which was considered a standard of beauty at the time). The palace manners displayed by the two women make it frustrating for the ten samurai to enact any kind of covert rescue. They seem detached from reality, as if this is a world of play to match the charade of shogunate etiquette, and not one of brutal violence and real imminent danger. She also tells Sanjūrō that he is a “glittering sword,” but that “the best sword stays in its scabbard,” which becomes a foreshadowing event.
Sanjūrō has ended up to be one of my favorite films from the 60s, story-wise, visually, and through its great use of music. Kurosawa’s choice of shots continued to impress more and more as he matured as a director, leading all the way to his glorious films, Ran and Dreams. Shooting from underneath the cart that Mifune lies on, composing tableaus of the ten samurai, all different, yet all incredibly and meticulously arranged (such as the one above), and the final gusher of blood that comes with the final battle are all prominent examples of Kurosawa’s indelible imagery. The music that plays during the rescue mission is terribly exciting, contrasting with the crazy jazz-pop music that plays during a celebratory scene. The writing is both realistic and superb. One perfect example is Sanjūrō asking the nine samurai, after a foolhardy and premature jump into the fray, “Aren’t you tired of being stupid?” But, other than the gusher of blood scene, this film will probably most be known for the Camellia signal scene, in which the ronin comes up with a clever plan involving sending Camellia flowers down the stream as a provocation to attack. In the end, Sanjūrō is once again on his own, having instilled valuable lessons in the minds of the nine samurai, but with the realization, after a brutal duel, that he is indeed as the woman said, a sword without a scabbard, a naked sword, a man with a violent nature who cannot change.
Harakiri (1962, Masaki Kobayashi)
Harakiri is set at the beginning of the Tokugawa shogunate, specifically in 1630, telling another story of a ronin, a masterless samurai. This tale, however, is perhaps more historically based as the rule of the day was that samurai who lost their masters were supposed to take their own lives. The samurai, named Hanshiro Tsugumo, arrives at the house of a feudal lord in Edo to ask permission to commit the deed at the lord’s house. The lord and his court are dubious of Tsugumo’s intentions as there has been a rash of samurais becoming employed or receiving alms as a result of other feudal lords showing mercy in the face of such requests. As such, the lord decides to tell Tsugumo the story of what happened to Motome Chijiwa, a samurai who had made the same request some three months’ prior. The lord, rather than giving up alms, decides to take the samurai at his word, even cruelly mocking him for having a cheap bamboo sword, then maliciously forcing him to commit the deed with that sword, making it a terribly long, painful, agonizing affair.
It turns out that Tsugumo has a story of his own, revealing that Chijiwa was his friend’s son, who eventually became his own son-in-law when he urged Chijiwa to marry his daughter, Miho. But, the couple was poor, left looking for odd jobs after the fall of the lord’s house. Chijiwa was forced to attempt the gambit of “alms for seppuku,” meeting his end at the hands of this lord and his cadre of samurai. What follows is a masterfully told tale of revenge, with Tsugumo requesting the aid of the samurai who were complicit in Chijiwa’s death to act as his “second,” someone who would put him out of his misery once the act had been carried out. Each samurai he requests ends up being absent, due to “illness,” but in reality, Tsugumo has already humiliated each of them by severing their top-knots. The resulting battle, initiated by the now furious lord, is magnificently choreographed, shot, and acted.
That battle is just one aspect of Harakiri with wonderful cinematography. It is shot mostly with low camera angles mirroring the Japanese tradition of sitting on the floor. Director Masaki Kobayashi also has a way with presenting space, whether in the lord’s courtyard or the inner rooms and hallways of the lord’s house. As such, the story unfolds like a play, limited to certain areas, with most of the action taking place in the same location, but in different times. It is ultimately a story of the hypocrisy of honor, with the lord continually invoking the idea of honor, despite the inanity and uselessness of it, with his greed and violent tendencies the real reason for his acceptance of the samurais’ requests. The lord also spreads the story that his own samurai, who had been humiliated, had died due to illness, therefore showing even more hypocrisy in his concept of honor. I think there is something else here at play in this film, with the brutal imagery of Chijiwa’s slow death and the use of guns by the lord’s men, I think it becomes significant that the revenging Tsugumo is from Hiroshima. In a way, he is also rebelling against changing military technologies, which would eventually result in the horrific bombings, and violence itself, seeking redress for the incredible overreaction to the request from the poor samurai, which would be echoed in the same future bombings. Or, maybe I’m reading too much into it, but I doubt it. As a side note, Harakiri has one of the best opening credit sequences I've ever seen.
The Sword of Doom (1966, Kihachi Okamoto)
While both Sanjūrō and Tsugumo are noble samurai characters, quiet, honorable, and brave, The Sword of Doom presented another type of samurai in Ryunosuke Tsukue, as played by the great Tatsuya Nakadai. Ryu, just to shorten his name for this capsule review, is amoral, emotionless, and cold. We first meet him when he comes across a Buddhist pilgrim and his granddaughter. When she goes off to fetch water, the old man prays for death in order so that she will not have to continue life as a pilgrim. Overhearing his prayer, Ryu kills him without compassion. We later learn that Ryu has an unorthodox and unbeatable sword style, one that is considered abnormally cruel, making his opponents believe he is off guard, and then killing them as they lunge forward. While that may be ingenious, it was certainly not considered an honorable way to fight.
Ryu is challenged to a duel, and before doing so, beds his opponent’s wife in exchange for mercy. The husband learns of this deception, divorces his wife, and decides to cheat in the duel, lunging at Ryu after the judge called a draw. Ryu takes him out with ease, then tells the judge that his killing move was justified, but the townspeople rebel and go after him, again being dispatched with ease. Ryu is run out of town along with the ex-wife. Ryu ends up taking a job as a sort of secret policeman / assassin, is nearly the victim of the widow, who lives with him, and is sought after by the duel victim’s brother, Hyoma. Of course, he has all of this coming to him, but he manages to avoid death, at least for a while. The only time that Ryu starts to doubt himself is when he sees another samurai, played by Toshirō Mifune, who shows skill that surpasses his own.
Everything comes full circle when Hyoma comes to seek his revenge and is aided by a young courtesan who ends up to be the granddaughter from the beginning of the film. Rather than a straightforward duel, however, Ryu becomes haunted by the images of all the people he has mercilessly slain over the years, shot masterfully with the employment of clever shadows and ghostly voices, which causes him to go mad, slashing wildly at the walls of the room. Ryu hears the voice of the samurai played by Mifune, who tells him, “An evil sword marks an evil soul.” Real opponents begin to join the apparitions and we then see one of the famous and most captivating samurai battles in cinematic history. This seven-minute scene is breathtaking, with the samurai fighting from room to room, while the geisha house burns around them. The film ends in mid-action, and thus we are not sure what happens to Ryu, but we know it can’t come to any good end. After all, he is an evil sword, thus an evil soul, and the title is Sword of Doom, so it’s not going to end with lollipops and sunshine. Although, originally, this was supposed to be the first film in a trilogy, following the historical novel by Kaizan Nakazato, so I could be wrong. Either way, this is one great film.
Highlights from My Vinyl Collection, Part 14
This is the fourteenth installment of "Highlights from My Vinyl Collection," an appreciation of great music, not necessarily rare finds or expensive imports. This is not about "deleted Smiths singles and original, not rereleased - underlined - Frank Zappa albums," as Rob Gordon so eloquently put it, though a small few select gems might appear every now and again.
Tears for Fears - The Hurting
Most of my peers were likely to own Tears for Fears' sophomore release, Songs from the Big Chair. It was a huge mass audience breakthrough for the duo of Curt Smith and Roland Orzabal, spawning two #1 hit singles in the US, as well as another in the top 3. And, as much as I truly love that album, I am definitely more of a fan of their debut, The Hurting. For this look at a record in my collection, I will try to avoid repeating my Treblezine review, but that might be somewhat difficult. History definitely looks kindly now on this album, at least outside the UK, where the album hit #1 on the charts and produced four singles, three of which hit top 5 status. In other words, in TFF's home turf, they knew what a gem they had on their hands from the very beginning. Those three singles, "Mad World" (now made famous by the cover version in Donnie Darko), "Pale Shelter," and "Change" are three of my favorite songs from the entire decade. The first time I heard "Change," seeing the video on MTV, I was immediately hooked. I had to hear more. So, it was quite a day for me when I found this vinyl copy of the album (with the above pictured cover, which happens to be the "international" version, whatever that means) for $5.99, slightly more expensive than most of my great finds, but well worth it. Tears for Fears has long been my audio therapy and now it will continue to be, just in a warmer format.
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 55
Sting - "Fortress Around Your Heart"
(Single Release: October 1985)
I've had inner conflict about Sting for years. Having been a fan of the Police, I was on board immediately in 1985 for Sting's solo debut, The Dream of the Blue Turtles. With its jazz-centric sound, complete with a band fronted by Branford Marsalis, it was yet another bridge between my dad's fusion jazz leanings and the kids' popular fare. For that reason, I have fond memories of the album. Plus, I actually liked the music. I bought Sting albums up until 1993's Ten Summoner's Tales, but after that, the devils on my shoulder have outshouted my better angels, inciting my anti-Sting sentiments. Hearing this song again, some 25+ years later, I was reminded again of what I liked about it. But, the accompanying video reminded of the larger-than-life persona of the performer, and what has turned me off to the concept of Sting in recent years. This video is ludicrous, especially for a well-written song about divorce. For some reason, an unseen woman sends out a suited envoy to approach Sting and his Hobbit-like assistant in an abandoned warehouse / factory. They are there to supposedly buy a song from this renegade, ronin songwriter, but Sting asserts, "One song...and I'll choose it." HA-RUMPH! I've heard that this filmic representation of Sting's egotism is not too far from the mark, including an apocryphal story in which Sting goes to a restaurant and stops the maitre'd from seating him until all of the patrons turned in his direction to recognize him. Ozzy Osbourne famously said on his MTV show, after reciting a litany of horrible things he's done and experienced, "It could have been worse. I could have been Sting." However, despite my recent dislike of what Sting has become, I still like a lot of those early tracks. "Fortress Around Your Heart" is probably my favorite single from the debut album and thus certainly merits a spot on this list.
(Single Release: October 1985)
I've had inner conflict about Sting for years. Having been a fan of the Police, I was on board immediately in 1985 for Sting's solo debut, The Dream of the Blue Turtles. With its jazz-centric sound, complete with a band fronted by Branford Marsalis, it was yet another bridge between my dad's fusion jazz leanings and the kids' popular fare. For that reason, I have fond memories of the album. Plus, I actually liked the music. I bought Sting albums up until 1993's Ten Summoner's Tales, but after that, the devils on my shoulder have outshouted my better angels, inciting my anti-Sting sentiments. Hearing this song again, some 25+ years later, I was reminded again of what I liked about it. But, the accompanying video reminded of the larger-than-life persona of the performer, and what has turned me off to the concept of Sting in recent years. This video is ludicrous, especially for a well-written song about divorce. For some reason, an unseen woman sends out a suited envoy to approach Sting and his Hobbit-like assistant in an abandoned warehouse / factory. They are there to supposedly buy a song from this renegade, ronin songwriter, but Sting asserts, "One song...and I'll choose it." HA-RUMPH! I've heard that this filmic representation of Sting's egotism is not too far from the mark, including an apocryphal story in which Sting goes to a restaurant and stops the maitre'd from seating him until all of the patrons turned in his direction to recognize him. Ozzy Osbourne famously said on his MTV show, after reciting a litany of horrible things he's done and experienced, "It could have been worse. I could have been Sting." However, despite my recent dislike of what Sting has become, I still like a lot of those early tracks. "Fortress Around Your Heart" is probably my favorite single from the debut album and thus certainly merits a spot on this list.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 54
The Alarm - "Strength"
(Single Release: 1985)
The Alarm has been unfairly bashed as a U2 knockoff, but in reality, or to complete the reference, in absolute reality, they paralleled U2's career. Yet while U2's rise was meteoric, The Alarm's was anemic, at least in the States. Yet, they had a hardcore fanbase that loved them every bit as much, if not more, than their Irish counterparts. I don't know which band I like more. I don't know that I have even compared them as much as others do. But, I must admit, "Strength" is probably one of the band's more U2-like compositions, at least sonically. Yet, though The Alarm shared U2's big arena sound and political themes, found in such songs as "68 Guns," "Blaze of Glory," "Marching On," and "Unsafe Building," this song, that possibly sounded most like U2, was a plea for company, for companionship, for rescue from a world of loneliness. I suppose if one were trying to find the political meaning in everything, one could find a message of socialism, but I doubt that's what's happening here. Instead, this is an open-hearted plea for love, in which our narrator lets us know that he is emotional, can cry, is terribly lonely, and is looking for a way out. And yet, it is sung with so much fire and passion that one could easily make a mistake of misinterpretation, merely based on the sound and the title. The same could be said for other songs, such as "The Spirit of '76," a song in which Mike Peters, the lead singer, remembers the friends of his past. In other words, it is more like "The Summer of 69" than a song about rebellion. After all, The Alarm is made up of two Englishmen and two Welshmen. What would they care about America's battle for independence, other than to present a differing side? Even that is a stretch at this point in history. Anyway, I got a chance to see The Alarm play in 1988, a year after the release of their album, Eye of the Hurricane. It was held in the small gymnasium of a private college in San Diego and was thus somewhat of an intimate affair. It is a show I will always remember, and the performance of "Strength" a particular strong memory.
(Single Release: 1985)
The Alarm has been unfairly bashed as a U2 knockoff, but in reality, or to complete the reference, in absolute reality, they paralleled U2's career. Yet while U2's rise was meteoric, The Alarm's was anemic, at least in the States. Yet, they had a hardcore fanbase that loved them every bit as much, if not more, than their Irish counterparts. I don't know which band I like more. I don't know that I have even compared them as much as others do. But, I must admit, "Strength" is probably one of the band's more U2-like compositions, at least sonically. Yet, though The Alarm shared U2's big arena sound and political themes, found in such songs as "68 Guns," "Blaze of Glory," "Marching On," and "Unsafe Building," this song, that possibly sounded most like U2, was a plea for company, for companionship, for rescue from a world of loneliness. I suppose if one were trying to find the political meaning in everything, one could find a message of socialism, but I doubt that's what's happening here. Instead, this is an open-hearted plea for love, in which our narrator lets us know that he is emotional, can cry, is terribly lonely, and is looking for a way out. And yet, it is sung with so much fire and passion that one could easily make a mistake of misinterpretation, merely based on the sound and the title. The same could be said for other songs, such as "The Spirit of '76," a song in which Mike Peters, the lead singer, remembers the friends of his past. In other words, it is more like "The Summer of 69" than a song about rebellion. After all, The Alarm is made up of two Englishmen and two Welshmen. What would they care about America's battle for independence, other than to present a differing side? Even that is a stretch at this point in history. Anyway, I got a chance to see The Alarm play in 1988, a year after the release of their album, Eye of the Hurricane. It was held in the small gymnasium of a private college in San Diego and was thus somewhat of an intimate affair. It is a show I will always remember, and the performance of "Strength" a particular strong memory.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 53
Duran Duran - "A View to a Kill"
(Single Release: May 1985)
Yesterday, I wrote about "19" by Paul Hardcastle, the song that would keep Duran Duran's foray into the Bond franchise from reaching number one. Today, I cover the latter, the also-ran. This is the song that could have been the quintet's last hurrah, one last score before splintering off into Power Station and Arcadia. Luckily for us, they got back together and gave us "Notorious," "I Don't Want Your Love," and "Ordinary World." The first and last in that list being used to great effect in Donnie Darko ("I question your commitment to SparkleMotion") and Layer Cake respectively. The partnership between Duran squared and the Bond franchise has dubious beginnings. Apparently, John Taylor, always my sister's favorite, somewhat drunkenly, snobbishly, and obnoxiously approached Cubby Broccoli and asked when someone decent was going to do a Bond theme. Ahem. I guess he thinks Shirley Bassey, Paul McCartney, Tom Jones, Nancy Sinatra, and Louis Armstrong aren't decent. Well, though the song isn't my favorite Bond theme, it is a good one. In fact, I was surprised to learn that the Internet community looked far more favorably on it than I do, but that might be young nostalgia and the trick of recent memory at play. I won't get into the film as that could take me forever. I won't even get into the video, which is ridiculousness in itself. I will merely say that I am a fan of Duran Duran, have owned a lot of their albums (some in cassette form, growing up), and also love the Bond films, so this was a nice marriage. I have one more pet peeve with this song and it has little to do with the song itself and more to do with the population at large in relation to it. Just as some keep misnaming "How Soon is Now" as "I Am Human," and "Good Riddance" as "The Time of Your Life," (and yes, I know that is the subtitle for the latter), people keep misnaming "A View to a Kill" as "Dance Into the Fire." Sure, it's a catchy phrase, but it's not the title. Sigh. Why must I be overburdened with such snobbery? Maybe John Taylor and I would get along better than I thought.
(Single Release: May 1985)
Yesterday, I wrote about "19" by Paul Hardcastle, the song that would keep Duran Duran's foray into the Bond franchise from reaching number one. Today, I cover the latter, the also-ran. This is the song that could have been the quintet's last hurrah, one last score before splintering off into Power Station and Arcadia. Luckily for us, they got back together and gave us "Notorious," "I Don't Want Your Love," and "Ordinary World." The first and last in that list being used to great effect in Donnie Darko ("I question your commitment to SparkleMotion") and Layer Cake respectively. The partnership between Duran squared and the Bond franchise has dubious beginnings. Apparently, John Taylor, always my sister's favorite, somewhat drunkenly, snobbishly, and obnoxiously approached Cubby Broccoli and asked when someone decent was going to do a Bond theme. Ahem. I guess he thinks Shirley Bassey, Paul McCartney, Tom Jones, Nancy Sinatra, and Louis Armstrong aren't decent. Well, though the song isn't my favorite Bond theme, it is a good one. In fact, I was surprised to learn that the Internet community looked far more favorably on it than I do, but that might be young nostalgia and the trick of recent memory at play. I won't get into the film as that could take me forever. I won't even get into the video, which is ridiculousness in itself. I will merely say that I am a fan of Duran Duran, have owned a lot of their albums (some in cassette form, growing up), and also love the Bond films, so this was a nice marriage. I have one more pet peeve with this song and it has little to do with the song itself and more to do with the population at large in relation to it. Just as some keep misnaming "How Soon is Now" as "I Am Human," and "Good Riddance" as "The Time of Your Life," (and yes, I know that is the subtitle for the latter), people keep misnaming "A View to a Kill" as "Dance Into the Fire." Sure, it's a catchy phrase, but it's not the title. Sigh. Why must I be overburdened with such snobbery? Maybe John Taylor and I would get along better than I thought.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 52
Paul Hardcastle - "19"
(Single Release: February 1985)
Michael Stipe once claimed, "I don't think music and politics mix" (Segal, 2003). I guess that depends on how you define politics, as R.E.M. is arguably one of the most politically bent bands out there. I don't agree with his sentiments. I think art and politics have been inextricably intertwined for millennia and it's not likely to stop, nor would I want it to. Paul Hardcastle's anti-war song, "19," is just such an example, combining energetic dance music with samples of Vietnam documentaries and news footage / audio. The premise behind the song is simple, displaying the horrors of war, all the while pointing out that, as the song says, "In World War II, the average age of the combat soldier was 26, in Vietnam he was 19." I remember hearing this song for the first time and being amazed on three successive fronts: one, how infectious the music was, two, how shocked I was at that statistic, and three, how a pop song could be so informative. Of course, it was more than just informative, it was rebellious. By juxtaposing the horrors of the Vietnam War, and thus all modern wars, with popular music, Hardcastle provided an anti-war message for the masses that would resonate. It certainly did with me. Because Hardcastle is mostly known as a synth composer, usually found in classical sections of music stores, for this to be his one breakout hit is extraordinary and meaningful. This is not a novelty song. This is serious business. Of course, not everything that resulted from this song's popularity was good. Hardcastle's manager was Simon Fuller who, because of the success of this song, was able to start his own company and later go on to create American Idol. Who says music and politics don't mix?
Segal, D. (2003). "Count Me Out: Why Rock and Politics Don't Mix." bnet: The CBS Interactive Business Network. Retrieved from http://www.findarticles.com
(Single Release: February 1985)
Michael Stipe once claimed, "I don't think music and politics mix" (Segal, 2003). I guess that depends on how you define politics, as R.E.M. is arguably one of the most politically bent bands out there. I don't agree with his sentiments. I think art and politics have been inextricably intertwined for millennia and it's not likely to stop, nor would I want it to. Paul Hardcastle's anti-war song, "19," is just such an example, combining energetic dance music with samples of Vietnam documentaries and news footage / audio. The premise behind the song is simple, displaying the horrors of war, all the while pointing out that, as the song says, "In World War II, the average age of the combat soldier was 26, in Vietnam he was 19." I remember hearing this song for the first time and being amazed on three successive fronts: one, how infectious the music was, two, how shocked I was at that statistic, and three, how a pop song could be so informative. Of course, it was more than just informative, it was rebellious. By juxtaposing the horrors of the Vietnam War, and thus all modern wars, with popular music, Hardcastle provided an anti-war message for the masses that would resonate. It certainly did with me. Because Hardcastle is mostly known as a synth composer, usually found in classical sections of music stores, for this to be his one breakout hit is extraordinary and meaningful. This is not a novelty song. This is serious business. Of course, not everything that resulted from this song's popularity was good. Hardcastle's manager was Simon Fuller who, because of the success of this song, was able to start his own company and later go on to create American Idol. Who says music and politics don't mix?
Segal, D. (2003). "Count Me Out: Why Rock and Politics Don't Mix." bnet: The CBS Interactive Business Network. Retrieved from http://www.findarticles.com
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 51
Hall & Oates - "Method of Modern Love"
(Single Release: February 1985)
Let's just try to forget that really disconcertingly dated video and the accompanying, horribly written summary of it on Wikipedia. They don't exist, okay? Rather, let's just concentrate on the song. They proved it once again, thirteen years into their professional careers, after eleven previous studio albums and over 25 charting singles, six of them #1s, Daryl Hall and John Oates produced another mesmerizing track. I've always been an unabashed Hall & Oates fan. I once owned Private Eyes on vinyl, and hopefully will again. These two are songwriting masters, there's just no getting around it. "Sara Smile," "Rich Girl," "Kiss on My List," "You Make My Dreams," "I Can't Go For That (No Can Do)," "Maneater," ... need I go on? Their sound is described as blue-eyed soul, a term coined to describe the white artists who were starting to make Rhythm & Blues and soul music in the 60s. There's an apocryphal story, mainly questionable because I half-remember it from either a Behind the Music episode or some similar program, that many people in the Philadelphia music scene, including established artists, at first merely assumed, upon hearing "She's Gone," that Hall & Oates were African American. There were no music videos back then; there was just the radio. The story goes to show how adept the duo is at writing and performing songs in a particular style that they grew up with and loved. "Method of Modern Love" carries on with that tradition, though with an 80s sheen and production gloss that seemed requisite at the time. Once that gloss is stripped off, we are left with a traditional R&B song in all its glory. Hall's vocals are once again superb. His falsettos are second to none. And, despite the 80s stigma, one cannot deny the magnetism of the spelling portion of the song. It is certainly one of the track's biggest hooks and it reels me in every time. I cannot express how much I love Hall & Oates, without any hint of irony. In fact, it even bothers me that I have to qualify it in such a way considering the last few years of disdain for certain popular 80s acts. But, thanks to some love from the band Phoenix and soundtrack appearances, such as in (500) Days of Summer, there has been a much deserved resurgence. For the past four years, Hall has been presenting an online performance show called Live from Daryl's House, in which he performs impromptu music with his guest for the month. He even got Smokey Robinson to sing "Ooo Baby Baby" (a song he notoriously refuses to perform), by merely transitioning into it from "Sara Smile." Hall & Oates are performing at Bumbershoot this year. I may have to find my way there.
(Single Release: February 1985)
Let's just try to forget that really disconcertingly dated video and the accompanying, horribly written summary of it on Wikipedia. They don't exist, okay? Rather, let's just concentrate on the song. They proved it once again, thirteen years into their professional careers, after eleven previous studio albums and over 25 charting singles, six of them #1s, Daryl Hall and John Oates produced another mesmerizing track. I've always been an unabashed Hall & Oates fan. I once owned Private Eyes on vinyl, and hopefully will again. These two are songwriting masters, there's just no getting around it. "Sara Smile," "Rich Girl," "Kiss on My List," "You Make My Dreams," "I Can't Go For That (No Can Do)," "Maneater," ... need I go on? Their sound is described as blue-eyed soul, a term coined to describe the white artists who were starting to make Rhythm & Blues and soul music in the 60s. There's an apocryphal story, mainly questionable because I half-remember it from either a Behind the Music episode or some similar program, that many people in the Philadelphia music scene, including established artists, at first merely assumed, upon hearing "She's Gone," that Hall & Oates were African American. There were no music videos back then; there was just the radio. The story goes to show how adept the duo is at writing and performing songs in a particular style that they grew up with and loved. "Method of Modern Love" carries on with that tradition, though with an 80s sheen and production gloss that seemed requisite at the time. Once that gloss is stripped off, we are left with a traditional R&B song in all its glory. Hall's vocals are once again superb. His falsettos are second to none. And, despite the 80s stigma, one cannot deny the magnetism of the spelling portion of the song. It is certainly one of the track's biggest hooks and it reels me in every time. I cannot express how much I love Hall & Oates, without any hint of irony. In fact, it even bothers me that I have to qualify it in such a way considering the last few years of disdain for certain popular 80s acts. But, thanks to some love from the band Phoenix and soundtrack appearances, such as in (500) Days of Summer, there has been a much deserved resurgence. For the past four years, Hall has been presenting an online performance show called Live from Daryl's House, in which he performs impromptu music with his guest for the month. He even got Smokey Robinson to sing "Ooo Baby Baby" (a song he notoriously refuses to perform), by merely transitioning into it from "Sara Smile." Hall & Oates are performing at Bumbershoot this year. I may have to find my way there.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 50
Bruce Springsteen - "I'm on Fire"
(Single Release: February 1985)
"I'm on Fire" is two minutes and thirty-seven seconds of perfection. Back before I was a Bruce convert, this song was a light in the darkness. It was the first Springsteen track I truly loved. There have been many since, especially in poring over the catalog, but "I'm on Fire" led the way. It's not just because it was first. It is quite possibly the most perfectly written, compact song. The music sounds and feels like motion, mimicking the freight train in the last verse. It is a style similar to many of the songs by Johnny Cash, which is probably why it sounded so great as a cover by the Man in Black on the Sub Pop issued Nebraska tribute. (I, for one, did not quibble about the song being from the Born in the U.S.A. sessions and not Nebraska, though it could have been, if it were just a little darker). That sense of motion propels us through the song, hearing Bruce describe his longing for someone who, while perhaps not unattainable, after all this is Bruce we're talking about, is at least attached to someone else. This is perhaps why it resonated with me. As a lovesick teen, this kind of yearning from afar was requisite. The structure of the song is also intriguing. The first two verses have the same form, with two descriptive rhyming lines (i.e., "Hey little girl is your daddy home / Did he go and leave you all alone?", then two rhyming expressions of his love, (i.e., "I got a bad desire / Oh, I'm on fire." The third verse is a bridge, in which Bruce more poetically and dramatically describes his pain. This is where it gets interesting. The fourth and final verse is a hybrid of the two, combining the three line bridge format with the two line ending of the first two verses to round out the song as it fades into the distance. As I said for Treblezine's Top 200 Songs of the 80s, where it really should have broken the top 50, "I'm on Fire" is the most haunting, passionate, subversive, erotic love song ever written. It is only kismet that it is 50th in my list, as this is not in any order of preference or rank. But again, it is two minutes and thirty-seven short seconds of perfection.
(Single Release: February 1985)
"I'm on Fire" is two minutes and thirty-seven seconds of perfection. Back before I was a Bruce convert, this song was a light in the darkness. It was the first Springsteen track I truly loved. There have been many since, especially in poring over the catalog, but "I'm on Fire" led the way. It's not just because it was first. It is quite possibly the most perfectly written, compact song. The music sounds and feels like motion, mimicking the freight train in the last verse. It is a style similar to many of the songs by Johnny Cash, which is probably why it sounded so great as a cover by the Man in Black on the Sub Pop issued Nebraska tribute. (I, for one, did not quibble about the song being from the Born in the U.S.A. sessions and not Nebraska, though it could have been, if it were just a little darker). That sense of motion propels us through the song, hearing Bruce describe his longing for someone who, while perhaps not unattainable, after all this is Bruce we're talking about, is at least attached to someone else. This is perhaps why it resonated with me. As a lovesick teen, this kind of yearning from afar was requisite. The structure of the song is also intriguing. The first two verses have the same form, with two descriptive rhyming lines (i.e., "Hey little girl is your daddy home / Did he go and leave you all alone?", then two rhyming expressions of his love, (i.e., "I got a bad desire / Oh, I'm on fire." The third verse is a bridge, in which Bruce more poetically and dramatically describes his pain. This is where it gets interesting. The fourth and final verse is a hybrid of the two, combining the three line bridge format with the two line ending of the first two verses to round out the song as it fades into the distance. As I said for Treblezine's Top 200 Songs of the 80s, where it really should have broken the top 50, "I'm on Fire" is the most haunting, passionate, subversive, erotic love song ever written. It is only kismet that it is 50th in my list, as this is not in any order of preference or rank. But again, it is two minutes and thirty-seven short seconds of perfection.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 49
Pat Benatar - "Invincible (Theme from The Legend of Billie Jean)"
(Single Release: November 1985)
We will always associate Ray Parker, Jr. with Ghostbusters, Simple Minds with The Breakfast Club, and Huey Lewis with Back to the Future, but does anyone even remember The Legend of Billie Jean? Yeah, I didn't think so. The film tanked at the box office. It has apparently found a cult audience, but I have yet to meet that cult. But, every 80s movie had to have a powerful theme song, and for this tale of teenage rebellion, they got the great Pat Benatar. She was already a concretely established artist with over six albums and thirteen top 100 singles. While the movie may have bombed, the song did gangbusters, becoming her fourth biggest hit at the time, after "Hit Me With Your Best Shot," "Love is a Battlefield," and "We Belong." That's pretty damn good company. I'm not sure if I would place it fourth in my top ten list of Benatar tracks, as most of Crimes of Passion and Precious Time would make that list, but it is still a kick-ass song with a great chorus.
(Single Release: November 1985)
We will always associate Ray Parker, Jr. with Ghostbusters, Simple Minds with The Breakfast Club, and Huey Lewis with Back to the Future, but does anyone even remember The Legend of Billie Jean? Yeah, I didn't think so. The film tanked at the box office. It has apparently found a cult audience, but I have yet to meet that cult. But, every 80s movie had to have a powerful theme song, and for this tale of teenage rebellion, they got the great Pat Benatar. She was already a concretely established artist with over six albums and thirteen top 100 singles. While the movie may have bombed, the song did gangbusters, becoming her fourth biggest hit at the time, after "Hit Me With Your Best Shot," "Love is a Battlefield," and "We Belong." That's pretty damn good company. I'm not sure if I would place it fourth in my top ten list of Benatar tracks, as most of Crimes of Passion and Precious Time would make that list, but it is still a kick-ass song with a great chorus.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Films of the 60s, Part 10: Talking of Michelangelo
“In the room the women come and go, talking of Michelangelo.” – T.S. Eliot
At first, I wanted to call this 60s film entry, “Trilogie a la Ennui.” Michelangelo Antonioni’s loosely connected trilogy, at least thematically, deals with man’s (and more specifically, woman's) alienation from a rapidly changing, post-war world in which social mores are shifting and relationships are not the traditional lifelong pairings that were once the norm. There are long takes, extended periods in which nothing really happens (or does it?), and relationships that inevitably fall apart. Antonioni is also known as a fiction writer, and these films are truly literature in visual form. These three films are amazingly put together, replete with meaningful yet spare dialogue, symbols, and existential drama. I can’t claim to understand everything that Antonioni is trying to express, but I feel as if these films are so packed, that even a portion of them being understood is enough. In this way, these films might not be for everyone. They are art films in every sense of those words, and deserve undivided attention and exploratory discussion.
L’Avventura (1960, Michelangelo Antonioni)
I first heard of Antonioni, not with his most popular, Blow-Up (which will be written about at a later date), but when a coworker at the Laemmle’s Royal Theater started gushing profusely about L’Avventura when it was booked to play a local art house theater (possibly the Aero? I don’t remember). I didn’t go see it then, and it’s probably a good thing. I don’t think I could have appreciated the film in my early twenties, but now, nearing forty, this film, and the other two in the trilogy, are more palatable due to my experience. L’Avventura is the type of film that starts out as one type of film, and then ends as a completely different one. At first, we are introduced to a strong female character, Anna, who doesn’t get along with her father, a diplomat. There are hints in the dialogue between them that Anna’s father lies to her and to others, but these secrets are never revealed. She admits that she is not really in love with her fiancée, Sandro, but is going to marry him anyway. This, too, turns out to be fairly unimportant, at least as it relates to popular narrative film, and this certainly isn’t that. In this type of film, the above issues are all crucial, meaningful, and interpretable.
Anna, Sandro, and friend Claudia take a boat trip to a remote volcanic island, Lisba Bianca, for a vacation. They are accompanied by other sets of couples, each of which have peculiar quirks and bits of revealing dialogue. But, the pivotal point of the film comes when Anna mysteriously disappears. The rest of the travelers are all lazily napping or paying attention to other things before anyone notices. After exhaustive searches, and the arrival of Anna’s father, not much else can be done. Anna’s friends all go back to their regular lives. Eventually, Sandro and Claudia strike up a relationship, though not as “eventually” as some might think. They end up together fairly quickly. The shift from the first act of the film to the second act, following the formation of Claudia and Sandro’s relationship, is deliberately flouts the rules of the mystery trope. All vestiges of the Anna storyline and her mysterious disappearance, as dramatic as they are, are dropped. It is more of a reflection of life’s odd events. Things happen, and we move on, and sometimes we don’t get any answers, nor do we adamantly seek them as some of our filmic heroes so valiantly do.
Claudio and Sandro’s relationship is put into stark relief with not only other relationships around them, such as their traveling companions, with their infighting and nastiness, but also with the original relationship of loss with Anna. One of the women has an affair with a 17-year-old painter. All of them search for meaning in their own individual ways. As Sandro and Claudia take their own trip together, we see a group of men recognizing her beauty, perched in sheer leering attentiveness. I’d say it was a fairly good homage to The Birds (another one I'll post at a later date), except that the Hitchcock film arrived three years later. This scene is just one example of how to dissect this film. Cinematography, dialogue, (or lack thereof), and the emoted feelings of the actors are everything in this film, along with others in the trilogy. Sandro convinces the beautiful Claudia, played masterfully by Monica Vitti, Antonioni’s girlfriend at the time, to marry him. Shortly after, she catches him with a young prostitute. Both irreparably damaged, the film ends with the indelible image of Claudia standing alongside a sitting Sandro, with Mt. Etna in the background. And immediately, we know that this dormant volcano is somehow related to the volcanic island where Anna disappeared, and that everyone will eventually disappear in their own way, and in their own time.
La Notte (1961, Michelangelo Antonioni)
Once again, Monica Vitti plays the other woman, though not as early on as in L’Avventura. In La Notte, we again start with a character who will soon disappear, in this case, the dying Tommaso, a friend of the couple, Giovanni and Lidia, played respectively by the magnificent Marcello Mastroianni and the radiant Jeanne Moreau. Rather than newlyweds, Giovanni and Lidia are a middle-aged, married couple, fairly successful and in the upper crust. Giovanni is a famous writer, with people generally praising his abilities while he undercuts their laudatory decrees with self-deprecation. The couple, having to face the imminent death of their friend, start to react in particular ways. Giovanni accepts the advances of a young, beautiful, disturbed, nymphomaniac patient, while Lidia wanders off to walk the streets of Milan, experiencing all sorts of odd bits of the flotsam and jetsam of life, such as a crying child, rotting buildings, people shooting off Roman Candles, and a street fight. Eventually, Lidia ends up at the couple’s old apartment building, representing a happier time in their relationship, where Giovanni finds her.
However, once separated from this happy place, Lidia is once again despondent and restless. She suggests that they go out for the evening, first to a nightclub, and then to a party with friends. Again, characteristic of Antonioni, there is a lot to see, but not really a lot going on, at least in the narrative sense. The two watch an amazing nightclub act that we could easily stretch to represent the acrobatic nature of relationships, but that might not be necessary. The party is where most of the film takes place, and where most of the issues are set into motion. Lidia wanders around, alone though surrounded by people, not having much fun. Giovanni, in the meantime, becomes the focus of the party, being offered jobs and getting a lot of female attention. A simple game of flirtation, Giovanni and Valentina sliding her compact along a checkered floor in an imitation of shuffleboard or curling, turns into a spectator sport and a gambling affair. Everything seems to go Giovanni’s way. Lidia and Valentina end up connecting in their own awkward, yet straightforward and unpretentious manner. It forms a strange sort of love triangle.
Lidia eventually admits, as they leave the party as dawn breaks over the surrounding golf course, that she doesn’t love Giovanni anymore. They sit, and she reads a love letter to him that she has secreted in her purse. It is poetic and beautiful, speaking of a love that we have not seen displayed anywhere in this film. He asks her, “Who wrote that?” It is a double insult as this insinuates that she has a secret lover that he doesn’t know about, meaning that he is unattending and absent, and even more insulting in that it was he who wrote it in the early days of their courtship, proving himself more of a cad. It is no wonder that Don Draper, a character from AMC’s Mad Men, says that he enjoyed La Notte. Giovanni and Lidia are prototypes and molds for Don and Betty Draper. The elite circles, loveless relationship, and complete façade are near replicated in the hit show that takes place at the same time as Antonioni’s films. It is yet another heartbreaking ending, yet more real than most other films.
L’Eclisse (1962, Michelangelo Antonioni)
I saw these three films out of order and I wish I hadn’t. Ending with L’Eclisse would have been tragically magical. I’ll explain what I mean. Just as the other two films the “Trilogie a la Ennui,” L’Eclisse is rife with sadness, existential angst, strong, yet troubled female characters as central figures, and long takes, scenes, and shots without a lot going on but what is in the viewer’s mind. This pretty much sums up these films of Michelangelo Antonioni. So, T.S. Eliot’s poetic refrain ends up being fairly prophetic. Once again, we also have Monica Vitti, this time not playing a tertiary character, but as the focus. She is Vittoria, a literary translator who falls for a young stockbroker, Riccardo, played by the awesome Alain Delon, and begins a summer fling with him.
The movie opens with playful pop music, somewhat a staple of the French New Wave movement at the time, reminiscent certainly of Godard. But, the music shifts to eerie, ominous music. It is overpowering foreshadowing of what is to come. Everything that comes before, her breakup with her original boyfriend, her fascination with a neighbor and her African art and music collection, and visits to the stock exchange are merely prelude to one unifying event. Oddly, though the event unifies the segments of the film, it does the opposite with our characters. The relationship between Vittoria and Riccardo is fraught with problems. She seemingly tries to give herself over to her passions but cannot commit fully. He grows frustrated, torn between his passions of work and of a love that seems like it would be hard work that would conflict with his profession.
The two make a date to meet on “their corner,” a special place they have designated their own. It has a rain barrel that is somewhat their touchstone. As the hour draws near for their rendezvous, we are graced with a series of evocative shots. Time passes, day turns into dusk and then into night. We see people getting off busses. We see the sprinkler the couple played in on a previous date being ceremoniously shut off, acting as another symbol. The rain barrel on the corner begins to leak, draining its contents as if signifying the love that escaped their relationship. We see a blonde woman and wonder if she has made the date, both getting our hopes up and letting us know that this kind of situation would be devastatingly one-sided. But no, it is not her. Neither appears, but does this mean something? Is this just reality, that people eventually abandon each other? Possibly, but is it inevitable? I don’t know.
Regardless, L’Eclisse is a wonderful and tragic film. The last thirty minutes are spellbinding. They brought me to tears. Martin Scorsese called L’Eclisse the boldest film in Antonioni’s trilogy and I am not inclined to disagree with him. This trilogy, being made in a three-year span, is truly remarkable. I don’t know how he did it. Now, some fifteen plus years after the fact, I finally understand my coworker’s passionate pleas to see these films. If only more people would come and go, talking of Michelangelo.
At first, I wanted to call this 60s film entry, “Trilogie a la Ennui.” Michelangelo Antonioni’s loosely connected trilogy, at least thematically, deals with man’s (and more specifically, woman's) alienation from a rapidly changing, post-war world in which social mores are shifting and relationships are not the traditional lifelong pairings that were once the norm. There are long takes, extended periods in which nothing really happens (or does it?), and relationships that inevitably fall apart. Antonioni is also known as a fiction writer, and these films are truly literature in visual form. These three films are amazingly put together, replete with meaningful yet spare dialogue, symbols, and existential drama. I can’t claim to understand everything that Antonioni is trying to express, but I feel as if these films are so packed, that even a portion of them being understood is enough. In this way, these films might not be for everyone. They are art films in every sense of those words, and deserve undivided attention and exploratory discussion.
L’Avventura (1960, Michelangelo Antonioni)
I first heard of Antonioni, not with his most popular, Blow-Up (which will be written about at a later date), but when a coworker at the Laemmle’s Royal Theater started gushing profusely about L’Avventura when it was booked to play a local art house theater (possibly the Aero? I don’t remember). I didn’t go see it then, and it’s probably a good thing. I don’t think I could have appreciated the film in my early twenties, but now, nearing forty, this film, and the other two in the trilogy, are more palatable due to my experience. L’Avventura is the type of film that starts out as one type of film, and then ends as a completely different one. At first, we are introduced to a strong female character, Anna, who doesn’t get along with her father, a diplomat. There are hints in the dialogue between them that Anna’s father lies to her and to others, but these secrets are never revealed. She admits that she is not really in love with her fiancée, Sandro, but is going to marry him anyway. This, too, turns out to be fairly unimportant, at least as it relates to popular narrative film, and this certainly isn’t that. In this type of film, the above issues are all crucial, meaningful, and interpretable.
Anna, Sandro, and friend Claudia take a boat trip to a remote volcanic island, Lisba Bianca, for a vacation. They are accompanied by other sets of couples, each of which have peculiar quirks and bits of revealing dialogue. But, the pivotal point of the film comes when Anna mysteriously disappears. The rest of the travelers are all lazily napping or paying attention to other things before anyone notices. After exhaustive searches, and the arrival of Anna’s father, not much else can be done. Anna’s friends all go back to their regular lives. Eventually, Sandro and Claudia strike up a relationship, though not as “eventually” as some might think. They end up together fairly quickly. The shift from the first act of the film to the second act, following the formation of Claudia and Sandro’s relationship, is deliberately flouts the rules of the mystery trope. All vestiges of the Anna storyline and her mysterious disappearance, as dramatic as they are, are dropped. It is more of a reflection of life’s odd events. Things happen, and we move on, and sometimes we don’t get any answers, nor do we adamantly seek them as some of our filmic heroes so valiantly do.
Claudio and Sandro’s relationship is put into stark relief with not only other relationships around them, such as their traveling companions, with their infighting and nastiness, but also with the original relationship of loss with Anna. One of the women has an affair with a 17-year-old painter. All of them search for meaning in their own individual ways. As Sandro and Claudia take their own trip together, we see a group of men recognizing her beauty, perched in sheer leering attentiveness. I’d say it was a fairly good homage to The Birds (another one I'll post at a later date), except that the Hitchcock film arrived three years later. This scene is just one example of how to dissect this film. Cinematography, dialogue, (or lack thereof), and the emoted feelings of the actors are everything in this film, along with others in the trilogy. Sandro convinces the beautiful Claudia, played masterfully by Monica Vitti, Antonioni’s girlfriend at the time, to marry him. Shortly after, she catches him with a young prostitute. Both irreparably damaged, the film ends with the indelible image of Claudia standing alongside a sitting Sandro, with Mt. Etna in the background. And immediately, we know that this dormant volcano is somehow related to the volcanic island where Anna disappeared, and that everyone will eventually disappear in their own way, and in their own time.
La Notte (1961, Michelangelo Antonioni)
Once again, Monica Vitti plays the other woman, though not as early on as in L’Avventura. In La Notte, we again start with a character who will soon disappear, in this case, the dying Tommaso, a friend of the couple, Giovanni and Lidia, played respectively by the magnificent Marcello Mastroianni and the radiant Jeanne Moreau. Rather than newlyweds, Giovanni and Lidia are a middle-aged, married couple, fairly successful and in the upper crust. Giovanni is a famous writer, with people generally praising his abilities while he undercuts their laudatory decrees with self-deprecation. The couple, having to face the imminent death of their friend, start to react in particular ways. Giovanni accepts the advances of a young, beautiful, disturbed, nymphomaniac patient, while Lidia wanders off to walk the streets of Milan, experiencing all sorts of odd bits of the flotsam and jetsam of life, such as a crying child, rotting buildings, people shooting off Roman Candles, and a street fight. Eventually, Lidia ends up at the couple’s old apartment building, representing a happier time in their relationship, where Giovanni finds her.
However, once separated from this happy place, Lidia is once again despondent and restless. She suggests that they go out for the evening, first to a nightclub, and then to a party with friends. Again, characteristic of Antonioni, there is a lot to see, but not really a lot going on, at least in the narrative sense. The two watch an amazing nightclub act that we could easily stretch to represent the acrobatic nature of relationships, but that might not be necessary. The party is where most of the film takes place, and where most of the issues are set into motion. Lidia wanders around, alone though surrounded by people, not having much fun. Giovanni, in the meantime, becomes the focus of the party, being offered jobs and getting a lot of female attention. A simple game of flirtation, Giovanni and Valentina sliding her compact along a checkered floor in an imitation of shuffleboard or curling, turns into a spectator sport and a gambling affair. Everything seems to go Giovanni’s way. Lidia and Valentina end up connecting in their own awkward, yet straightforward and unpretentious manner. It forms a strange sort of love triangle.
Lidia eventually admits, as they leave the party as dawn breaks over the surrounding golf course, that she doesn’t love Giovanni anymore. They sit, and she reads a love letter to him that she has secreted in her purse. It is poetic and beautiful, speaking of a love that we have not seen displayed anywhere in this film. He asks her, “Who wrote that?” It is a double insult as this insinuates that she has a secret lover that he doesn’t know about, meaning that he is unattending and absent, and even more insulting in that it was he who wrote it in the early days of their courtship, proving himself more of a cad. It is no wonder that Don Draper, a character from AMC’s Mad Men, says that he enjoyed La Notte. Giovanni and Lidia are prototypes and molds for Don and Betty Draper. The elite circles, loveless relationship, and complete façade are near replicated in the hit show that takes place at the same time as Antonioni’s films. It is yet another heartbreaking ending, yet more real than most other films.
L’Eclisse (1962, Michelangelo Antonioni)
I saw these three films out of order and I wish I hadn’t. Ending with L’Eclisse would have been tragically magical. I’ll explain what I mean. Just as the other two films the “Trilogie a la Ennui,” L’Eclisse is rife with sadness, existential angst, strong, yet troubled female characters as central figures, and long takes, scenes, and shots without a lot going on but what is in the viewer’s mind. This pretty much sums up these films of Michelangelo Antonioni. So, T.S. Eliot’s poetic refrain ends up being fairly prophetic. Once again, we also have Monica Vitti, this time not playing a tertiary character, but as the focus. She is Vittoria, a literary translator who falls for a young stockbroker, Riccardo, played by the awesome Alain Delon, and begins a summer fling with him.
The movie opens with playful pop music, somewhat a staple of the French New Wave movement at the time, reminiscent certainly of Godard. But, the music shifts to eerie, ominous music. It is overpowering foreshadowing of what is to come. Everything that comes before, her breakup with her original boyfriend, her fascination with a neighbor and her African art and music collection, and visits to the stock exchange are merely prelude to one unifying event. Oddly, though the event unifies the segments of the film, it does the opposite with our characters. The relationship between Vittoria and Riccardo is fraught with problems. She seemingly tries to give herself over to her passions but cannot commit fully. He grows frustrated, torn between his passions of work and of a love that seems like it would be hard work that would conflict with his profession.
The two make a date to meet on “their corner,” a special place they have designated their own. It has a rain barrel that is somewhat their touchstone. As the hour draws near for their rendezvous, we are graced with a series of evocative shots. Time passes, day turns into dusk and then into night. We see people getting off busses. We see the sprinkler the couple played in on a previous date being ceremoniously shut off, acting as another symbol. The rain barrel on the corner begins to leak, draining its contents as if signifying the love that escaped their relationship. We see a blonde woman and wonder if she has made the date, both getting our hopes up and letting us know that this kind of situation would be devastatingly one-sided. But no, it is not her. Neither appears, but does this mean something? Is this just reality, that people eventually abandon each other? Possibly, but is it inevitable? I don’t know.
Regardless, L’Eclisse is a wonderful and tragic film. The last thirty minutes are spellbinding. They brought me to tears. Martin Scorsese called L’Eclisse the boldest film in Antonioni’s trilogy and I am not inclined to disagree with him. This trilogy, being made in a three-year span, is truly remarkable. I don’t know how he did it. Now, some fifteen plus years after the fact, I finally understand my coworker’s passionate pleas to see these films. If only more people would come and go, talking of Michelangelo.
Highlights from My Vinyl Collection, Part 13
This is the thirteenth installment of "Highlights from My Vinyl Collection," an appreciation of great music, not necessarily rare finds or expensive imports. This is not about "deleted Smiths singles and original, not rereleased - underlined - Frank Zappa albums," as Rob Gordon so eloquently put it, though a small few select gems might appear every now and again.
The Smithereens - "Only a Memory b/w The Seeker"
The Smithereens have unfortunately become one of those bands that is forgotten by many who lived through their time and unheard of by later generations. It is a travesty. The Smithereens gave arena rock / metal amplification to Byrds or Beatlesesque music. "Blood and Roses," the band's first big hit, was a bass heavy, moody, and rocking track that brought straightforward rock and roll back to the radio airwaves in a time dominated by new wave and synth tracks. But, it was the Smithereens' (named after a Yosemite Sam neologism) sophomore album, Green Thoughts, that vaulted them into popularity. "Only a Memory" was the first single from that album, and a prized 45rpm 7-inch record in my collection. It's not that it's valuable, merely a personal favorite. One of the reasons I prize this record is for the album track, but in this case, the b-side almost eclipses the a-side. This cover of The Who's 1970 classic, "The Seeker," is astounding. Knowing the Smithereens' reverence for their heroes, it is especially meaningful when Pat DiNizio sings, in his inimitable voice, "I asked Bobby Dylan / I asked the Beatles / I asked Timothy Leary / But he couldn't help me either...". Though 7-inch singles have resurfaced, they haven't quite reached the prominence they had, even in their decline when I was collecting them. Unfortunately, trying to find singles is like searching the internet without good SEO, you have to flip through them one by one. While I don't mind doing this while I am by myself, whenever I am with others in a record store, time is not a luxury. I'll keep looking for great records, which again reminds me of "The Seeker." I'll be searching low and high, too.
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 48
New Edition - "Count Me Out"
(Single Release: October 1985)
Before the Backstreet Boys, N*Sync, and even before the New Kids on the Block, there was New Edition. Who doesn't like New Edition? Before the term "boy band" became ubiquitous and somewhat slimy, New Edition was simply thought of as reviving the young vocal group tradition of the Jackson 5. In fact, the name "New Edition," was suposed to insinuate that they actually were the new edition of the Jackson 5. However, in 1985, the group was in trouble. Gone were the early teen days of "Candy Girl," "Cool It Now," and "Mr. Telephone Man." They were reaching the later teen stage, already rife with angst, and it caused the splintering of one band mate. As you can see from the video above, Bobby Brown, the singer of the "Mr. Telephone Man" chorus, is noticeably absent. This album would be the last with Brown as part of the group. Later, the band would go on to record one of my favorite songs of theirs, "If It Isn't Love," and would splinter off into the solo acts of Bobby Brown, Johnny Gill, Ralph Tresvant, and the trio of Bell Biv Devoe. As if I have to tell all of you that information, right? Anyway, "Count Me Out" is definitely in the tradition of the group's earliest hits, with the doo-wop harmonized backing vocals and a narrative conversation with the fellas. It is in essence a sequel to "Cool It Now," after the guys had ribbed Ralph for his lovesick pining, he gets the girl, and now in this song, he would rather hang out with his girl than with his guy friends. The video posted above even shows that there is a visual link to the video for "Cool It Now." Very meta. Because a lot of my junior high and high school friends were into alternative rock, as was I, my New Edition fandom was somewhat hidden away. Luckily, my freshman year of college found me in a dorm with one guy who liked metal and another who shared my appreciation for Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky, Mike, Ralph, and Johnny. It was a musical smorgasbord. I can tend to poke fun at R&B, slow jams, and New Jack Swing, and even did so for a certain humorous Treblezine article, but in reality, I can't help but like everything New Edition related. Whether it's Ralph's "Sensitivity," Bobby's "Every Little Step," BBD's "Poison," or any smash hit from New Edition, these songs tend to make my world a little brighter.
(Single Release: October 1985)
Before the Backstreet Boys, N*Sync, and even before the New Kids on the Block, there was New Edition. Who doesn't like New Edition? Before the term "boy band" became ubiquitous and somewhat slimy, New Edition was simply thought of as reviving the young vocal group tradition of the Jackson 5. In fact, the name "New Edition," was suposed to insinuate that they actually were the new edition of the Jackson 5. However, in 1985, the group was in trouble. Gone were the early teen days of "Candy Girl," "Cool It Now," and "Mr. Telephone Man." They were reaching the later teen stage, already rife with angst, and it caused the splintering of one band mate. As you can see from the video above, Bobby Brown, the singer of the "Mr. Telephone Man" chorus, is noticeably absent. This album would be the last with Brown as part of the group. Later, the band would go on to record one of my favorite songs of theirs, "If It Isn't Love," and would splinter off into the solo acts of Bobby Brown, Johnny Gill, Ralph Tresvant, and the trio of Bell Biv Devoe. As if I have to tell all of you that information, right? Anyway, "Count Me Out" is definitely in the tradition of the group's earliest hits, with the doo-wop harmonized backing vocals and a narrative conversation with the fellas. It is in essence a sequel to "Cool It Now," after the guys had ribbed Ralph for his lovesick pining, he gets the girl, and now in this song, he would rather hang out with his girl than with his guy friends. The video posted above even shows that there is a visual link to the video for "Cool It Now." Very meta. Because a lot of my junior high and high school friends were into alternative rock, as was I, my New Edition fandom was somewhat hidden away. Luckily, my freshman year of college found me in a dorm with one guy who liked metal and another who shared my appreciation for Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky, Mike, Ralph, and Johnny. It was a musical smorgasbord. I can tend to poke fun at R&B, slow jams, and New Jack Swing, and even did so for a certain humorous Treblezine article, but in reality, I can't help but like everything New Edition related. Whether it's Ralph's "Sensitivity," Bobby's "Every Little Step," BBD's "Poison," or any smash hit from New Edition, these songs tend to make my world a little brighter.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 47
Level 42 - "Something About You"
(Single Release: September 1985)
There is just something incredibly nerdy about my love of Level 42, and in particular "Lessons in Love" and this 1985 single, "Something About You." But, looking back, it doesn't seem very likely that it was inevitable. This was likely about the time that my father started listening to modern jazz fusion. We, his kids, hated it. No, we don't want to listen to Spyro Gyra, the Yellowjackets, Rippingtons, or Fattburger, thank you very much. Granted, now I could possibly greatly appreciate those bands and actually do, but back then, they were square, pure L7, which is ironic considering that "square" was a term for people like me, who didn't appreciate jazz. Oh well. But, somehow the mainstream pop version of jazz fusion, embodied in Level 42, broke through. It wasn't necessarily because their name was derived from Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, though that was certainly cool. After all, if the name had anything to do with it, I would have been way into another of my dad's bands, Shadowfax. No, it just had to do with great songwriting, Mark King's slap-bass stylings that provided a heavy groove, and the juxtaposition of King's lower register voice with keyboard player Mike Lindup's falsetto. All of these are evident in "Something About You," the band's second biggest single, behind the aforementioned "Lessons in Love." A new world of sophisticated, adult-alternative pop had opened up to me. I did not, however, dive in headlong to discover more. I was merely happy enough to enjoy Level 42's songs for the next two and a half decades.
(Single Release: September 1985)
There is just something incredibly nerdy about my love of Level 42, and in particular "Lessons in Love" and this 1985 single, "Something About You." But, looking back, it doesn't seem very likely that it was inevitable. This was likely about the time that my father started listening to modern jazz fusion. We, his kids, hated it. No, we don't want to listen to Spyro Gyra, the Yellowjackets, Rippingtons, or Fattburger, thank you very much. Granted, now I could possibly greatly appreciate those bands and actually do, but back then, they were square, pure L7, which is ironic considering that "square" was a term for people like me, who didn't appreciate jazz. Oh well. But, somehow the mainstream pop version of jazz fusion, embodied in Level 42, broke through. It wasn't necessarily because their name was derived from Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, though that was certainly cool. After all, if the name had anything to do with it, I would have been way into another of my dad's bands, Shadowfax. No, it just had to do with great songwriting, Mark King's slap-bass stylings that provided a heavy groove, and the juxtaposition of King's lower register voice with keyboard player Mike Lindup's falsetto. All of these are evident in "Something About You," the band's second biggest single, behind the aforementioned "Lessons in Love." A new world of sophisticated, adult-alternative pop had opened up to me. I did not, however, dive in headlong to discover more. I was merely happy enough to enjoy Level 42's songs for the next two and a half decades.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 46
ABC - "Be Near Me"
(Single Release: January 1985)
"The message is perfectly simple, the meaning is clear. Don't ever stray too far, and don't disappear."
The 80s were replete with remixes. 12" singles became stock-in-trade, with anywhere from at least one extended version provided up to, sometimes, and entire album's worth of dance mixes. I was a huge sucker for them. One band in particular that lured me in with the extended singles was ABC. Having scored hits on two previous albums (and more precisely, the first album, The Lexicon of Love), ABC was an already established pop act. But, their third album, How to Be a...Zillionaire!, found main band members Martin Fry and Mark White opting for a completely different look, if not sound. With pop songwriting skills intact, Fry and White recruited two new band members more for their looks than their musical abilities. Though this wasn't the first time that fashion won out over function, it might have been the first time that band members were hired because they looked good as cartoons. Regardless, the album became one of their most commercially successful, spawning four hit singles before they would go back into the studio two years later with an album that would mark a return to the look and feel of their debut. The quotation above is how the song begins and the rest of the song follows the same template of a simple pleading Motown style love song, just without the Motown sound, or at least a more 80s pop version of Motown. It even has a call and response section (possibly my favorite part of the song) that follows, "What's your reputation? Ecstasy. What's your destination? Next to me." I love it. But, one has to wonder whether, in some scientific fashion, whether these songs would have been as successful without the cartoony flash. We would need a control group, a version of ABC without the packaging. A second question follows of whether or not this type of image would be successful outside of 1985. Regardless, "Be Near Me" was ABC's highest charting hit in the US and still a personal favorite.
(Single Release: January 1985)
"The message is perfectly simple, the meaning is clear. Don't ever stray too far, and don't disappear."
The 80s were replete with remixes. 12" singles became stock-in-trade, with anywhere from at least one extended version provided up to, sometimes, and entire album's worth of dance mixes. I was a huge sucker for them. One band in particular that lured me in with the extended singles was ABC. Having scored hits on two previous albums (and more precisely, the first album, The Lexicon of Love), ABC was an already established pop act. But, their third album, How to Be a...Zillionaire!, found main band members Martin Fry and Mark White opting for a completely different look, if not sound. With pop songwriting skills intact, Fry and White recruited two new band members more for their looks than their musical abilities. Though this wasn't the first time that fashion won out over function, it might have been the first time that band members were hired because they looked good as cartoons. Regardless, the album became one of their most commercially successful, spawning four hit singles before they would go back into the studio two years later with an album that would mark a return to the look and feel of their debut. The quotation above is how the song begins and the rest of the song follows the same template of a simple pleading Motown style love song, just without the Motown sound, or at least a more 80s pop version of Motown. It even has a call and response section (possibly my favorite part of the song) that follows, "What's your reputation? Ecstasy. What's your destination? Next to me." I love it. But, one has to wonder whether, in some scientific fashion, whether these songs would have been as successful without the cartoony flash. We would need a control group, a version of ABC without the packaging. A second question follows of whether or not this type of image would be successful outside of 1985. Regardless, "Be Near Me" was ABC's highest charting hit in the US and still a personal favorite.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 45
Simply Red - "Holding Back the Years"
(Single Release: 1985)
Every so often, a song hits the mainstream charts that I would never have expected. Over the last year, amongst the songs by Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, and Justin Bieber, there were also chart-topping hits by Mumford & Sons. I was both shocked and comforted. It made me wonder whether the same people were listening to all of these artists, or whether this was a unified rebellion by the people who don't usually listen to popular music, with usual eclectic tastes bonding together behind one band to have it infiltrate the mainstream. Somehow, I don't think it's that complicated, but it is nonetheless reassuring. Looking back to 1985, especially amongst the other entries I've made thus far on the blog, I would count Simply Red's "Holding Back the Years" as one of those surprising and comforting anomalies. It is a ballad in the older sense of the word, not a love song, but a narrative set to music, in this case downtempo and more than a bit melancholy. Mick Hucknall wrote the song when he was seventeen, his mother having abandoned him to live with his father when he was but three. "Strangled by the wishes of pater / Hoping for the arm of mater," he sings, though most listeners probably have paid scant attention to the meaning of the lyrics. This is one of a couple songs that make me feel sad about aging. I turn forty this year and it is becoming harder for me to cope with it. I remember turning thirty and hearing another song that always makes me feel sad about aging, Blur's "The Universal." Ten years later and I am no better at coping. But, like every well constructed song, it can be enjoyed without that lyrical dimension. The piano and horns, especially during the bridge, are soothing and reverent of an organic kind of music that was considered passé in the 80s. Hucknall's voice is full of passion. There are only a few voices in popular music I would consider transcendent. Alison Moyet, Marvin Gaye, Jeff Buckley, Robert Plant, Freddie Mercury, Tom Waits, and David Bowie are in that group, and I'd say that Hucknall is not too far behind. His belting of "holding" is certainly powerfully captivating. Just a few short years ago, I was in a small local grocery at the checkout and this song was playing on the overhead system. The somewhat sassy clerk looked up at the speakers, then looked at me with a puzzled expression. "Man, how long has he been holding on? It's time to let go..." I'll always remember that exchange whenever I hear the song and also use it as a way to make myself smile and get over the passing of time. As Damon Albarn sang, "When the days they seem to fall through you, well just let them go."
(Single Release: 1985)
Every so often, a song hits the mainstream charts that I would never have expected. Over the last year, amongst the songs by Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, and Justin Bieber, there were also chart-topping hits by Mumford & Sons. I was both shocked and comforted. It made me wonder whether the same people were listening to all of these artists, or whether this was a unified rebellion by the people who don't usually listen to popular music, with usual eclectic tastes bonding together behind one band to have it infiltrate the mainstream. Somehow, I don't think it's that complicated, but it is nonetheless reassuring. Looking back to 1985, especially amongst the other entries I've made thus far on the blog, I would count Simply Red's "Holding Back the Years" as one of those surprising and comforting anomalies. It is a ballad in the older sense of the word, not a love song, but a narrative set to music, in this case downtempo and more than a bit melancholy. Mick Hucknall wrote the song when he was seventeen, his mother having abandoned him to live with his father when he was but three. "Strangled by the wishes of pater / Hoping for the arm of mater," he sings, though most listeners probably have paid scant attention to the meaning of the lyrics. This is one of a couple songs that make me feel sad about aging. I turn forty this year and it is becoming harder for me to cope with it. I remember turning thirty and hearing another song that always makes me feel sad about aging, Blur's "The Universal." Ten years later and I am no better at coping. But, like every well constructed song, it can be enjoyed without that lyrical dimension. The piano and horns, especially during the bridge, are soothing and reverent of an organic kind of music that was considered passé in the 80s. Hucknall's voice is full of passion. There are only a few voices in popular music I would consider transcendent. Alison Moyet, Marvin Gaye, Jeff Buckley, Robert Plant, Freddie Mercury, Tom Waits, and David Bowie are in that group, and I'd say that Hucknall is not too far behind. His belting of "holding" is certainly powerfully captivating. Just a few short years ago, I was in a small local grocery at the checkout and this song was playing on the overhead system. The somewhat sassy clerk looked up at the speakers, then looked at me with a puzzled expression. "Man, how long has he been holding on? It's time to let go..." I'll always remember that exchange whenever I hear the song and also use it as a way to make myself smile and get over the passing of time. As Damon Albarn sang, "When the days they seem to fall through you, well just let them go."
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 44
Falco - "Rock Me Amadeus"
(Single Release: June 1985)
One year after Miloš Forman directed the award winning film, Amadeus came Falco's loving, yet kitschy tribute. Falco, an Austrian pop star, had already become somewhat famous in the U.S. with "Der Kommisar," which was given an English language cover version by British band, After the Fire. "Rock Me Amadeus," however, became the first German language song to hit #1 in the U.S. charts. (I guess "99 Luftballons" didn't make the cut). The song has now become somewhat the butt of jokes in parodying the 80s, mostly thanks to its quite memorable, sing-song chorus, which, along with "Superstar" are the only recognizable English words. Family Guy, Muppet Babies, "Weird" Al, and Adam Sandler have all taken jabs, but the best is definitely The Simpsons' "Rock Me Dr. Zaius" from the Planet of the Apes musical. I can't help but enjoy this song. There is sort of an Adam Ant meets rudimentary rap kind of vibe. One particular YouTube caption claims that this is the best song ever. I can't back up that hyperbole, but I'll side against the naysayers at the very least. By the way, how many other pop songs are there about historic composers? "Lisztomania?" "Roll Over, Beethoven?" Is that it?
(Single Release: June 1985)
One year after Miloš Forman directed the award winning film, Amadeus came Falco's loving, yet kitschy tribute. Falco, an Austrian pop star, had already become somewhat famous in the U.S. with "Der Kommisar," which was given an English language cover version by British band, After the Fire. "Rock Me Amadeus," however, became the first German language song to hit #1 in the U.S. charts. (I guess "99 Luftballons" didn't make the cut). The song has now become somewhat the butt of jokes in parodying the 80s, mostly thanks to its quite memorable, sing-song chorus, which, along with "Superstar" are the only recognizable English words. Family Guy, Muppet Babies, "Weird" Al, and Adam Sandler have all taken jabs, but the best is definitely The Simpsons' "Rock Me Dr. Zaius" from the Planet of the Apes musical. I can't help but enjoy this song. There is sort of an Adam Ant meets rudimentary rap kind of vibe. One particular YouTube caption claims that this is the best song ever. I can't back up that hyperbole, but I'll side against the naysayers at the very least. By the way, how many other pop songs are there about historic composers? "Lisztomania?" "Roll Over, Beethoven?" Is that it?
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 43
Heart - "These Dreams"
(Album Release: July 1985)
When I wrote about Madonna's "Crazy For You," I revealed my love of cheesy 80s female sung ballads, including Heart's "These Dreams." There was certainly a time, considering the rest of the music I've presented on this list and my circle of friends, that this was decidedly uncool. Since I didn't live in Seattle at the time, I couldn't even claim local spirit. Now it can be told. I do adore this song. It is one of the few tracks with lead vocals by Nancy Wilson as opposed to sister, Ann. Though, I'm not sure if that is what makes it stand out. It is a ballad amongst a deep catalog of rock classics, including "Barracuda," "Magic Man," and "Crazy on You." That could be why it stands out. It is also completely trapped in the amber that is the 80s. The synth sounds, which seem to take up most of the song, would normally be considered anathema to 70s rock bands such as Heart, but in the 80s, there seemed to be a "when in Rome" type philosophy (not in reference to the 80s band who sang "The Promise"). The video is even more entrenched in the 80s, with huge hair, deco inspired sets, and flashy outfits with shoulder pads. The visuals seem somewhat silly in hindsight and, well, they probably seemed that way at the time, too. Nancy does her crazy rock star kicks and guitar acrobatics, despite the fact that this song is a sleepy synth track. In other words, the actions in the video, by almost all the band members, don't match the style of the song. Despite all of the goofiness of it, I still really enjoy this song. Moving to Seattle was a validation I never expected. As soon as I got here, I no longer had to hide my love of Heart, and I don't mean of the classic rock songs that everyone loves; I mean the syrupy, polished, overproduced 80s stuff. It was OK. Heart is BELOVED up here. They can essentially do no wrong. By all accounts, I should despise this track. Despite the fact that it is co-written by Bernie Taupin, the lyrics are awful. "I walk without a cut / through a stained glass wall"?? The music is written by the guy who wrote "We Built This City." I would have thought he would have been exiled after that song. But, that has not affected me and now, in Seattle, I have found kindred spirits. Now, if I can only find a girl who is okay with my love of the Bangles' "Eternal Flame.'
(Album Release: July 1985)
When I wrote about Madonna's "Crazy For You," I revealed my love of cheesy 80s female sung ballads, including Heart's "These Dreams." There was certainly a time, considering the rest of the music I've presented on this list and my circle of friends, that this was decidedly uncool. Since I didn't live in Seattle at the time, I couldn't even claim local spirit. Now it can be told. I do adore this song. It is one of the few tracks with lead vocals by Nancy Wilson as opposed to sister, Ann. Though, I'm not sure if that is what makes it stand out. It is a ballad amongst a deep catalog of rock classics, including "Barracuda," "Magic Man," and "Crazy on You." That could be why it stands out. It is also completely trapped in the amber that is the 80s. The synth sounds, which seem to take up most of the song, would normally be considered anathema to 70s rock bands such as Heart, but in the 80s, there seemed to be a "when in Rome" type philosophy (not in reference to the 80s band who sang "The Promise"). The video is even more entrenched in the 80s, with huge hair, deco inspired sets, and flashy outfits with shoulder pads. The visuals seem somewhat silly in hindsight and, well, they probably seemed that way at the time, too. Nancy does her crazy rock star kicks and guitar acrobatics, despite the fact that this song is a sleepy synth track. In other words, the actions in the video, by almost all the band members, don't match the style of the song. Despite all of the goofiness of it, I still really enjoy this song. Moving to Seattle was a validation I never expected. As soon as I got here, I no longer had to hide my love of Heart, and I don't mean of the classic rock songs that everyone loves; I mean the syrupy, polished, overproduced 80s stuff. It was OK. Heart is BELOVED up here. They can essentially do no wrong. By all accounts, I should despise this track. Despite the fact that it is co-written by Bernie Taupin, the lyrics are awful. "I walk without a cut / through a stained glass wall"?? The music is written by the guy who wrote "We Built This City." I would have thought he would have been exiled after that song. But, that has not affected me and now, in Seattle, I have found kindred spirits. Now, if I can only find a girl who is okay with my love of the Bangles' "Eternal Flame.'
Monday, August 8, 2011
Great Songs from My Favorite Year in Music: 1985, Part 42
Cyndi Lauper - "The Goonies 'R' Good Enough"
(Single Release: June 1985)
I've been seriously debating whether or not to include this song. It's not one of my favorites. I've never owned a copy. It's not that I don't like Cyndi Lauper. On the contrary, I think she has some great stuff. This song, however, is incredibly goofy and that is perhaps why it charms me so. Of course, it doesn't hurt that I watched The Goonies over and over again as a child. I was also into wrestling and thus enjoyed many of the cameos including that of wrestling superstar baddie as well as chewing gum and kicking ass They Live star, "Rowdy" Roddy Piper. All the Goonies kids appear here, too. And apparently, though I haven't been able to spot them yet, the Bangles cameo as female pirates. Are you kidding? Susanna Hoffs in a pirate outfit? Believe me, I've looked. Though the song is kitschy and has nostalgic value, I'm not sure it merits the huge two minute plus storyline intro and a seven plus minute running time, though at least the one I've presented here isn't the extended two-parter that goes for twelve minutes. Honestly, I think any appreciation I have for this song comes from its tenuous connection (at best) to the film. But, that was enough to tip the scales in favor of including it in this blog series. Or, maybe it's not enough. Oh well, too late.
(Single Release: June 1985)
I've been seriously debating whether or not to include this song. It's not one of my favorites. I've never owned a copy. It's not that I don't like Cyndi Lauper. On the contrary, I think she has some great stuff. This song, however, is incredibly goofy and that is perhaps why it charms me so. Of course, it doesn't hurt that I watched The Goonies over and over again as a child. I was also into wrestling and thus enjoyed many of the cameos including that of wrestling superstar baddie as well as chewing gum and kicking ass They Live star, "Rowdy" Roddy Piper. All the Goonies kids appear here, too. And apparently, though I haven't been able to spot them yet, the Bangles cameo as female pirates. Are you kidding? Susanna Hoffs in a pirate outfit? Believe me, I've looked. Though the song is kitschy and has nostalgic value, I'm not sure it merits the huge two minute plus storyline intro and a seven plus minute running time, though at least the one I've presented here isn't the extended two-parter that goes for twelve minutes. Honestly, I think any appreciation I have for this song comes from its tenuous connection (at best) to the film. But, that was enough to tip the scales in favor of including it in this blog series. Or, maybe it's not enough. Oh well, too late.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Sunday's Playlist: 8-7-11
The Drums – “I Need Fun in My Life”
The Walkmen – “Woe is Me”
Broadcast – “The Little Bell”
The Sundays – “I Won”
Lonely Island – “Threw It on the Ground”
Michael Jackson – “P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)”
Bad Lieutenant – “These Changes”
Stricken City – “Tak o Tak”
U2 – “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”
The Smithereens – “Behind the Wall of Sleep”
Neko Case – “This Tornado Loves You”
Bomba Estéreo – “Palenke”
F#$@ed Up – “Running on Nothing”
Stina Nordenstam – “I Came So Far For Beauty”
Zero 7 – “Distractions”
Vampire Weekend – “California English”
Machines of Loving Grace – “Richest Junkie Still Alive (Sank Remix)”
Belle and Sebastian – “The State I Am In”
Porter Wagoner – “The Rubber Room”
The Cardigans – “Ironman”
Guided by Voices – “Smothered in Hugs”
The Other Two – “The Greatest Thing”
Les Savy Fav – “Poltergeist”
Santogold – “Lights Out”
Elbow – “Jesus is a Rochdale Girl”
Starsailor – “Poor Misguided Fool”
Crystal Castle – “Pap Smear”
Mumford & Sons – “Winter Winds”
My Morning Jacket – “Slow Slow Tune”
White Denim – “I’d Have it Just the Way We Were”
Devo – “March On”
The Walkmen – “Woe is Me”
Broadcast – “The Little Bell”
The Sundays – “I Won”
Lonely Island – “Threw It on the Ground”
Michael Jackson – “P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)”
Bad Lieutenant – “These Changes”
Stricken City – “Tak o Tak”
U2 – “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”
The Smithereens – “Behind the Wall of Sleep”
Neko Case – “This Tornado Loves You”
Bomba Estéreo – “Palenke”
F#$@ed Up – “Running on Nothing”
Stina Nordenstam – “I Came So Far For Beauty”
Zero 7 – “Distractions”
Vampire Weekend – “California English”
Machines of Loving Grace – “Richest Junkie Still Alive (Sank Remix)”
Belle and Sebastian – “The State I Am In”
Porter Wagoner – “The Rubber Room”
The Cardigans – “Ironman”
Guided by Voices – “Smothered in Hugs”
The Other Two – “The Greatest Thing”
Les Savy Fav – “Poltergeist”
Santogold – “Lights Out”
Elbow – “Jesus is a Rochdale Girl”
Starsailor – “Poor Misguided Fool”
Crystal Castle – “Pap Smear”
Mumford & Sons – “Winter Winds”
My Morning Jacket – “Slow Slow Tune”
White Denim – “I’d Have it Just the Way We Were”
Devo – “March On”
Films of the 60s, Part 9: Is There a Ghost in My House?
“When I lived alone, is there a ghost in my house?” – Band of Horses
G-g-g-g-ghosts! I used to be terrified of ghosts. Stories from friends about attic hatches opening up on their own, apparitions, and urban myths would always give me the chills. There was just something particularly menacing about an unseen presence, even more an unseen malevolent presence that acts for unknown reasons, or even worse, is angry about you being in its space, which is usually a huge motivating factor in ghost fiction. Whereas before, I was about 90% sure I believed in ghosts, I am now at about 1%, just leaving open a small opportunity for mere possibility. What changed my mind? Oddly enough, ghost shows. Whether Hunters, Adventures, Lab, or other, I immersed myself in these programs, partly to rid myself of the fear, and partly because I just found them ridiculously entertaining. I don’t know if I can even explain how they came to make me an unbeliever, aside from years of specious science, arguable evidence, and iffy reasoning. In other words, the explanation for EVERY sound, temperature change, movement, etc. is ghosts, especially with Ghost Adventures. Ugh. I’m over it. That doesn’t mean I’m not interested in ghosts or ghost stories anymore. In fact, I’d say I’m probably more interested, but I take it as captivating fiction, not as scientific explanation for life after death. It seems lately, however, that American studios can’t write and film a good ghost story. Some of the best seem to be coming from different Asian countries. But, in the 60s, there were some really good ones, and perhaps a few cheesy, but fun ones as well.
13 Ghosts (1960, William Castle)
I’ve written previously about House on Haunted Hill, one of William Castle’s gimmicky films. Through such films as The Tingler (probably his most ingenious idea), he was able to make the movie going experience more of a communal and interactive one, something from which modern cinema can learn a little something. I won’t go into it here, but look up William Castle on Wikipedia and check out what The Tingler was all about. Anyway, 13 Ghosts was another one of those gimmick horror films, about a family who inherits a haunted house. No, it’s not an entirely original idea, but that wasn’t the point. There were a few curveballs here that made it interesting. For one, the house came with a spooky maid who provided exposition, played by Margaret Hamilton, aka “The Wicked Witch of the West!” For another, the ghosts were all sorts of weird, including some that made sense, such as Emilio the chef (who looks a whole lot like the Swedish Chef due to his cartoonishly large moustache), his unfaithful wife, and her lover (all of whom can be seen in the pic above), but also ghosts that made no sense whatsoever, such as a flaming skeleton, the headless lion tamer, and a ghost lion.
Really? A ghost of a lion? I won’t even get into the idea that there are animal ghosts, but does the idea of a ghost of a scary animal make it doubly scary? No. Scary plus scary does not equal scary, somehow. Anyway, onto the gimmick. The idea with 13 Ghosts is that ticket buyers were given “Illusion-O!” glasses, based somewhat on the 3-D premise of the red and blue plastic lenses that would reveal different layers of effect. With “Illusion-O!,” there was one full bar of red lens and one of blue lens. Viewers were then allowed to pick whether they believed in ghosts or didn’t and choose accordingly whether they wanted to see the red-colored ghost images or choose to hide them. Fairly ingenious, no? I can say that just by using a pair of 3-D glasses I got with the Batman Arkham Asylum game, the effect worked quite well. I was shockingly surprised!
This film was later remade with Tony Shalhoub and critics panned it fairly harshly, saying that it lacked scares. I found that critique quite odd as the original was hugely lacking in scares. In fact, the original is family friendly, and none of the characters seem to be all that concerned with the presence of ghosts. There is even a somewhat family sitcom-like happy ending, and the young boy of the family hoping that the ghosts come back. Sure, the ghosts punished the greedy lawyer and saved him from a bed that was going to crush him (you’ll have to see it to understand that statement), but still, he likes having ghosts around?
Other than the neat trick of the “Illusion-O!,” the effects in this film are terrible, and the suspension of disbelief needed is crazy. Flies on strings and floating Ouija boards are just two examples, and with the latter, the family still decides to stay the night and say they are just having a group hallucination! Ummm….yeah. As soon as I see a floating Ouija board planchette, I’m not trying to reason it out. Frankly, when I saw the family’s reaction, I felt they all deserved to die at that point. One of the worst effects is the sound of the ghosts. Some of them have the requisite low moan, but others have pitched and sped up voices so that they sound like the Chipmunks. Though I often get a chill when I hear the Chipmunks’ Christmas song, I don’t find it terrifying. But, even with its many flaws, the movie is entertaining and fun, even downright silly at times, making it a campy favorite, especially if you can get a hold of some 3-D glasses, or even the “Illusion-O!” lenses, which were briefly made available for the DVD release in 2002.
The Innocents (1961, Jack Clayton)
Henry James’ “The Turn of the Screw” is considered one of the western world’s most classic ghost tales. Published in 1898, the story has been told, retold, and made into plays and films many times over since then. “The Turn of the Screw” has everything I love about ghost stories. It is not one of those slasher or jump-scare kind of stories, but is instead based in a real-world setting and is entirely ambiguous. Throughout the story, we are left to wonder whether the ghosts in this story are real, are perhaps figments of the governess’ imagination or psychosis, or are metaphors for some other kind of malevolent evil. In other words, it mirrors the conflicting views on the actual existence of ghosts. If they are real, they are incredibly frightening just by their mere existence and suggested presence, and if not, they speak to the psychological state of the witness.
The Innocents, a British film that quite faithfully adapts “The Turn of the Screw,” is a masterpiece of psychological horror, even adding more elements that ratchet up the scares, including more of a gothic feel thanks to screenwriter Truman Capote, a Freudian sexual element, and the absolutely frightening trope of the devilish, high-voiced, proper, accented child. (Shudder). Is there anything scarier than a little English boy who seems possessed? Of course, with film, as compared to literature, there is not as much room left for interpretation, as the filmmaker has to decide what we, as the viewers, can actually see along with the governess. Should we see the ghosts or should we, along with the kids and the maid, see nothing? Either way, we are forced into one perspective. However, director Jack Clayton handles this deftly. Though we can see and hear the apparitions along with the governess, we are still left wondering how much of what we saw was real.
Though Miles and Flora, the children the governess is charged to take care of, exhibit actions that make us question their complicity in the existence of the spirits, or even in a possible evil plot to send the governess spiraling into madness, we can just as easily see it from the point of view of seeing the governess being affected by her own knowledge (the objects in the attic, the exposition from the maid, the scary nature of the manse itself, etc.), which she then projects onto the children. I love this film. It is certainly not your typical ghost story, going far beyond the usual jump scares and delving into psychological territory that adds further dimension to what could have easily been a two-dimensional adaptation. The acting is superb, the writing is captivating, and the overall direction and handling of the film as a whole is phenomenal. I hate movies that end up with one “in your face” easy answer, and this one leaves you talking about it long after the last frame slips through the projector (metaphorically).
The Haunting (1963, Robert Wise)
This is probably the most frightening ghost film of the three I’m presenting in this post. Directed by the great Robert Wise, who also brought us the first Star Trek film, The Sound of Music, and West Side Story, The Haunting is another one that was remade, but again, not nearly as well. Based on the novel by Shirley Jackson, the story follows a group of paranormal experts, which was well before its time, and their exploration of a spooky house. Again, not particularly original, but the way in which these scares are given is truly psychological and innovative. (Weird aside: my iPod, on shuffle, just brought up Les Savy Fav’s “Poltergeist.” Maybe I should rethink this whole “existence of ghosts” thing.) Anyway, Martin Scorsese puts The Haunting at the top of his scariest movies list, and while I might reserve that spot for The Shining, or perhaps The Exorcist, I certainly can’t fault Marty in his reasoning.
First of all, I’m shocked that this movie received a “G” rating. There are three deaths, including a hanging, within the first ten minutes. Kid-friendly, this movie is not. The weird experiences in the house seem to center around Nell, played by Julie Harris, who seems to be more and more attracted to the strange goings-on, almost compelled to become involved in the spirit world. As compared to most ghost films, very few of the scares are actual visual representations of ghosts, but rather terrifying sounds and slowly moving doorknobs and such. Frankly, I find this more terrifying than the former. Show me a ghost, such as the terribly superimposed ones within 13 Ghosts and I tend to laugh, but show me a doorknob slowly turning and my mind tends to go to places that I’d rather it not. I suppose that’s why in watching the numerous ghost hunting shows that exist, I am never all that scared, but if I were actually there, in the dark and hearing footsteps, I’d be mortified.
The Haunting takes its scares seriously and not as gimmicks or cheap thrills. Further, the ghosts have a seeming mission or goal and are not just random. We begin to get more and more clues to what these ghosts are all about as the investigators continue their experiments, but the full reveal at the end of the film is more satisfying than I could have imagined. The Haunting provides real scares and a compelling story. It even broke some taboos by having a character display some lesbian tendencies at a time when that certainly wasn’t as accepted as it is today. Do yourself a favor, watch this one with a good surround sound system, preferably late at night, and possibly alone.
G-g-g-g-ghosts! I used to be terrified of ghosts. Stories from friends about attic hatches opening up on their own, apparitions, and urban myths would always give me the chills. There was just something particularly menacing about an unseen presence, even more an unseen malevolent presence that acts for unknown reasons, or even worse, is angry about you being in its space, which is usually a huge motivating factor in ghost fiction. Whereas before, I was about 90% sure I believed in ghosts, I am now at about 1%, just leaving open a small opportunity for mere possibility. What changed my mind? Oddly enough, ghost shows. Whether Hunters, Adventures, Lab, or other, I immersed myself in these programs, partly to rid myself of the fear, and partly because I just found them ridiculously entertaining. I don’t know if I can even explain how they came to make me an unbeliever, aside from years of specious science, arguable evidence, and iffy reasoning. In other words, the explanation for EVERY sound, temperature change, movement, etc. is ghosts, especially with Ghost Adventures. Ugh. I’m over it. That doesn’t mean I’m not interested in ghosts or ghost stories anymore. In fact, I’d say I’m probably more interested, but I take it as captivating fiction, not as scientific explanation for life after death. It seems lately, however, that American studios can’t write and film a good ghost story. Some of the best seem to be coming from different Asian countries. But, in the 60s, there were some really good ones, and perhaps a few cheesy, but fun ones as well.
13 Ghosts (1960, William Castle)
I’ve written previously about House on Haunted Hill, one of William Castle’s gimmicky films. Through such films as The Tingler (probably his most ingenious idea), he was able to make the movie going experience more of a communal and interactive one, something from which modern cinema can learn a little something. I won’t go into it here, but look up William Castle on Wikipedia and check out what The Tingler was all about. Anyway, 13 Ghosts was another one of those gimmick horror films, about a family who inherits a haunted house. No, it’s not an entirely original idea, but that wasn’t the point. There were a few curveballs here that made it interesting. For one, the house came with a spooky maid who provided exposition, played by Margaret Hamilton, aka “The Wicked Witch of the West!” For another, the ghosts were all sorts of weird, including some that made sense, such as Emilio the chef (who looks a whole lot like the Swedish Chef due to his cartoonishly large moustache), his unfaithful wife, and her lover (all of whom can be seen in the pic above), but also ghosts that made no sense whatsoever, such as a flaming skeleton, the headless lion tamer, and a ghost lion.
Really? A ghost of a lion? I won’t even get into the idea that there are animal ghosts, but does the idea of a ghost of a scary animal make it doubly scary? No. Scary plus scary does not equal scary, somehow. Anyway, onto the gimmick. The idea with 13 Ghosts is that ticket buyers were given “Illusion-O!” glasses, based somewhat on the 3-D premise of the red and blue plastic lenses that would reveal different layers of effect. With “Illusion-O!,” there was one full bar of red lens and one of blue lens. Viewers were then allowed to pick whether they believed in ghosts or didn’t and choose accordingly whether they wanted to see the red-colored ghost images or choose to hide them. Fairly ingenious, no? I can say that just by using a pair of 3-D glasses I got with the Batman Arkham Asylum game, the effect worked quite well. I was shockingly surprised!
This film was later remade with Tony Shalhoub and critics panned it fairly harshly, saying that it lacked scares. I found that critique quite odd as the original was hugely lacking in scares. In fact, the original is family friendly, and none of the characters seem to be all that concerned with the presence of ghosts. There is even a somewhat family sitcom-like happy ending, and the young boy of the family hoping that the ghosts come back. Sure, the ghosts punished the greedy lawyer and saved him from a bed that was going to crush him (you’ll have to see it to understand that statement), but still, he likes having ghosts around?
Other than the neat trick of the “Illusion-O!,” the effects in this film are terrible, and the suspension of disbelief needed is crazy. Flies on strings and floating Ouija boards are just two examples, and with the latter, the family still decides to stay the night and say they are just having a group hallucination! Ummm….yeah. As soon as I see a floating Ouija board planchette, I’m not trying to reason it out. Frankly, when I saw the family’s reaction, I felt they all deserved to die at that point. One of the worst effects is the sound of the ghosts. Some of them have the requisite low moan, but others have pitched and sped up voices so that they sound like the Chipmunks. Though I often get a chill when I hear the Chipmunks’ Christmas song, I don’t find it terrifying. But, even with its many flaws, the movie is entertaining and fun, even downright silly at times, making it a campy favorite, especially if you can get a hold of some 3-D glasses, or even the “Illusion-O!” lenses, which were briefly made available for the DVD release in 2002.
The Innocents (1961, Jack Clayton)
Henry James’ “The Turn of the Screw” is considered one of the western world’s most classic ghost tales. Published in 1898, the story has been told, retold, and made into plays and films many times over since then. “The Turn of the Screw” has everything I love about ghost stories. It is not one of those slasher or jump-scare kind of stories, but is instead based in a real-world setting and is entirely ambiguous. Throughout the story, we are left to wonder whether the ghosts in this story are real, are perhaps figments of the governess’ imagination or psychosis, or are metaphors for some other kind of malevolent evil. In other words, it mirrors the conflicting views on the actual existence of ghosts. If they are real, they are incredibly frightening just by their mere existence and suggested presence, and if not, they speak to the psychological state of the witness.
The Innocents, a British film that quite faithfully adapts “The Turn of the Screw,” is a masterpiece of psychological horror, even adding more elements that ratchet up the scares, including more of a gothic feel thanks to screenwriter Truman Capote, a Freudian sexual element, and the absolutely frightening trope of the devilish, high-voiced, proper, accented child. (Shudder). Is there anything scarier than a little English boy who seems possessed? Of course, with film, as compared to literature, there is not as much room left for interpretation, as the filmmaker has to decide what we, as the viewers, can actually see along with the governess. Should we see the ghosts or should we, along with the kids and the maid, see nothing? Either way, we are forced into one perspective. However, director Jack Clayton handles this deftly. Though we can see and hear the apparitions along with the governess, we are still left wondering how much of what we saw was real.
Though Miles and Flora, the children the governess is charged to take care of, exhibit actions that make us question their complicity in the existence of the spirits, or even in a possible evil plot to send the governess spiraling into madness, we can just as easily see it from the point of view of seeing the governess being affected by her own knowledge (the objects in the attic, the exposition from the maid, the scary nature of the manse itself, etc.), which she then projects onto the children. I love this film. It is certainly not your typical ghost story, going far beyond the usual jump scares and delving into psychological territory that adds further dimension to what could have easily been a two-dimensional adaptation. The acting is superb, the writing is captivating, and the overall direction and handling of the film as a whole is phenomenal. I hate movies that end up with one “in your face” easy answer, and this one leaves you talking about it long after the last frame slips through the projector (metaphorically).
The Haunting (1963, Robert Wise)
This is probably the most frightening ghost film of the three I’m presenting in this post. Directed by the great Robert Wise, who also brought us the first Star Trek film, The Sound of Music, and West Side Story, The Haunting is another one that was remade, but again, not nearly as well. Based on the novel by Shirley Jackson, the story follows a group of paranormal experts, which was well before its time, and their exploration of a spooky house. Again, not particularly original, but the way in which these scares are given is truly psychological and innovative. (Weird aside: my iPod, on shuffle, just brought up Les Savy Fav’s “Poltergeist.” Maybe I should rethink this whole “existence of ghosts” thing.) Anyway, Martin Scorsese puts The Haunting at the top of his scariest movies list, and while I might reserve that spot for The Shining, or perhaps The Exorcist, I certainly can’t fault Marty in his reasoning.
First of all, I’m shocked that this movie received a “G” rating. There are three deaths, including a hanging, within the first ten minutes. Kid-friendly, this movie is not. The weird experiences in the house seem to center around Nell, played by Julie Harris, who seems to be more and more attracted to the strange goings-on, almost compelled to become involved in the spirit world. As compared to most ghost films, very few of the scares are actual visual representations of ghosts, but rather terrifying sounds and slowly moving doorknobs and such. Frankly, I find this more terrifying than the former. Show me a ghost, such as the terribly superimposed ones within 13 Ghosts and I tend to laugh, but show me a doorknob slowly turning and my mind tends to go to places that I’d rather it not. I suppose that’s why in watching the numerous ghost hunting shows that exist, I am never all that scared, but if I were actually there, in the dark and hearing footsteps, I’d be mortified.
The Haunting takes its scares seriously and not as gimmicks or cheap thrills. Further, the ghosts have a seeming mission or goal and are not just random. We begin to get more and more clues to what these ghosts are all about as the investigators continue their experiments, but the full reveal at the end of the film is more satisfying than I could have imagined. The Haunting provides real scares and a compelling story. It even broke some taboos by having a character display some lesbian tendencies at a time when that certainly wasn’t as accepted as it is today. Do yourself a favor, watch this one with a good surround sound system, preferably late at night, and possibly alone.
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