I love the track “Heroes” off of Bowie’s album “Heroes.” Bowie was at an interesting inflection point here in his career having burned through two (three?) identities. The iconic cover makes me think of Japanese Noh theatre, perhaps a hint of Bowie’s impending directional shift, but nevertheless falls, rightly, into the designation as being part of “the Berlin Trilogy.” It was a great run of work with Bowie and Brian Eno collaborating in West Berlin and harnessing the city’s schizophrenic energy to paint the beautiful story of the title track “Heroes.”
I, I can remember (I remember)
Standing, by the wall (by the wall)
And the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads)
And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall)
And the shame, was on the other side
Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever
Then we could be heroes, just for one day
Somehow the photography of the iconic album fits perfectly.
And, of course, the video: complete with late 70’s laser lights and fog effects:
There’s such a unified “feel” to this collection of media, it was fascinating to hear about an alternative take. Retronaut recently posted this series of other cover candidates, and they’re all marvelous.
I remember the first time I heard the backstory to “You Can Go Your Own Way:” Lindsey Buckingham (greatest name, EVAR) wrote it about Stevie Nicks and, effectively, made her sing it, with him, night after night. It’s such a great song, and it’s so truthful about breaking up, and it is so completely brutal that it surely will transcend a few generations.
I’m fascinated by this dynamic, where people still smarting from the wounds of relationship dissolution manage to make great art. It seems masochistic and exploitative, I wonder if it works? The only analog to this implosion would perhaps be ABBA’s “Winner Takes it All.” Perhaps only it can rival the Buckingham / Nicks implosion because both male-female dyads were being rent asunder at the same time.
Perhaps fitting to the “times two” nature of ABBA, “Knowing Me, Knowing You” enhances the sentiment.
Thanks to Pandora we have several thematic internet radio stations that play around the household when we’re around. It offers, by random chance, the opportunity to discern interesting sound production work or instrument choices. I happened to catch the wonderful track by New Order “Regret” by chance. Listen to the prominent bass work by bass pioneer Peter “Hooky” Hook. The first 30 seconds are sufficient to get the sound in your head.
Hear the hollow tone, but the crisp dynamics? I’m fairly sure that’s a Yamaha bass (any New Order gurus read this?). By chance The Cure’s “In Between Days” played next:
I love that hollow sounding English bass. Even during New Order’s Joy Divison incarnation Hook really pushed forward with how a bass could melodically carry a song. The Cure’s Simon Gallup seems to have been influenced by that. That bass sound immediately captures a whole world of music just by a certain tone.
I really enjoy David Byrne as a commentator, artist, pretty much anything, except as a singer and except as the icon of the Talking Heads. I just am not really into their music besides the obligatory “Psycho Killer.” That said, the Heads were an influential musical act and I can hear their reach far and wide into today (No Talking Heads, no Lady Gaga).
But I have always liked Byrne’s commentary and interviews, he seems like a really interesting cat and is a standard bearer for what my friend Alfredo calls “The White Guys who Make World Music (Sting, Peter Gabriel, Paul Simon, et al.).” Here are some of the quotes wrote down while reading this.
In these quotes Byrne muses on censorship, the South Bay, the psychology of coffee shops, and beyond.
A cognitive scientist need only look at what we have made — the hives we have
created — to know what we think and what we believe to be important, , as well
as how we structure those thoughts and beliefs. It’s all there, in plain view,
right out in the open…They say, in their unique visual language, “This is
what we think matters, this is how we live and how we play.”
2
There once existed natural geographic reasons for most towns to come into
being:…Eventually what was originally a geographical justification for
choosing one place over another to settle got cemented down as rail lines reached
across the open spaces…In many cases the rivers or lakes eventually became
irrelevant, and shipping mode…As a result the rivers and waterfronts soon
became derelict…
10
The faint cacophony of many distant cell phone rings. In the train car —
snippets of Mozart and hip-hop, old-school ring tones, and pop-song
fragments…These ring tones are “signs” for “real” music. This is music not
meant to be actually listened to as music, but to remind you of and refer to
other, real music. These are audio road signs that proclaim “I am a Mozart
person”…symphony of music that is not music but asks that you remember music.
22
Europe is manicured, a millennial custodial project.
The best surveillance is the one where everyone suspects they’re being watched
all the time.
What’s the time limit on reparations? How long can you legitimately claim that
it should be handed back to you? Can Jews in Leipzig demand their old houses
back?
The two biggest self deceptions of all are that life has a meaning and that each
of us is unique
She mentions Israel’s dominance over the Palestinians, and the aggressive
behavior of the Israelis, as if this were a well-known fact….I am surprised to
hear it voiced so openly. In America, and especially in New York, there is a
hidden level of not-so-subtle censorship of such statements. They are just
never heard, or if they are the speaker is often given a nasty look or accused
of anti-Semitism…At that point, it seems to you that there is no censorship at
all; it appears to you that your thoughts are actually unfettered and free.
(188-9)
When the TV-saturated public begins to act as if the TV reality is real [Fox
News, America’s dumbest criminals] and behaves accordingly — reacting fearfully
and suspiciously to a world perceived as being primarily populated with drug
dealers and con men, according to Gerbner’s scenarios— then eventually the real
world begins to adjust itself to match the fiction. …. Existence can be
confirmed, just not in the proportion seen in TV land. ….any marketing
…person will tell you, perception is all. (Referring to George Gerbner,
professor of communication)
Re: Rodochenko. Here is a layout featuring “illuminations” added to a tractor
factory for the enjoyment and excitement of the workers —- sort of workplace as
pleasure palace / theme park. Google, the current hip place to work, where the
workplace is hyped as a cool campus, has some catching up to do.
Abercrombie and Fitch…has remade itself as a kind of homoerotic Fascist-chic
outpost. Talk about a makeover! Do the straight kids who shop there, many
of whom would never knowingly be associated with anything gay, think Oh,
they’re just cute guys?
In Venezuela there are chains of coffee shops where the clientele, almost
exclusively male, is waited on by attractive women in tight outfits. ….The
twist…is that the interior architecture allows the female wait-staff to tower
over the men. They women are positioned behind the counter on a slightly
elevated platform. This means the typical Latin macho man is either being put
in his place and enjoying it our that he is being transported back to
childhood, where his primary view is of this mother’s breasts looming
conveniently above him.
From what I can tell, there’s really not much to do around this part of the bay
(Cupertino). I ride my bike fairly aimlessly down clean, spotless arteries and
see on one around — not walking or biking anyway. All roads lead to places
that are versions of what I just left. I ask if folks her go up to San
Francisco to catch shows, exhibits, or to sample the wildly innovative cuisine
in the SF restaurants. Nope, these folks just love their work, so they stay put
her in the beautiful suburbs, working late, or they take their work home.
Ah, “Do you listen to ?” that infallible pick-up line of the high-school set, that aureal social filter par excellence. I remember once when the answers to those questions meant so much to me. Today my friend Mike asked me to correlate question: “Have you heard $BAND_NAME”
I’ve heard a great number of bands, but the truth is, I haven’t really listened to music in years.
It’s one of those questions you’re not supposed to say “No” to. It’s up there with, “Isn’t that queso good,” or “Isn’t $STARLET_NAME hot?” Once I used to put music on and do nothing but listen.
Later I would work, code, or work and code with it on. Now, I simply can’t bear anything with words or narrative anywhere near me when I work - unless I didn’t choose it (i.e. at a coffee shop) .
One of the activities that Lauren and I have tried to partake in since the earliest times in our relationship is going to see live music. This was infinitely harder in the South Bay area, but is, in Austin, slightly more difficult than finding a bowl of queso — that is, not at all.
An act who we really liked and who we saw in San Francisco was Stellastarr*, a New York-based band that rose up rapidly with The Strokes, Interpol, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Stellastarr* lack the dourness and monotonality of Interpol or the conscious Brooklyn-tough of the Strokes, but channel a poppy, betimes disco-affected sound with a quixotic vocals lain upon a sonic elephant in the china shop of guitar noise (What hath Sonic Youth wrought?). It’s actually pretty danceable too.
As icing on the cake, the show was at The Parish, my favorite venue in Austin. It’s upstairs, intimate, the bar staff are actually competent and friendly, and the sound system is excellent.
I’ve been into Stellstarr* since theirfirst release just seemed like something worth grabbing when I was at the Amoeba over on Haight Street, so it’s been a lot of fun to watch their evolution.
The thing that I love about Stellstarr* is the way that their primary
vocalists, Shawn and Amanda, have voices that engage in some sort of
complimentary and very epic sonic tug of war. Shawn has a histrionic,
epileptically-dashed wail that can throw the listener down the stairs with
some melancholy themes; however at that exact moment, Amanda’s voice comes
in with a lilting, rising, hopeful progression such that the listener, as he
falls backwards over the stairs, catches a glimpse of an angel, and hangs
there, suspended, between the dialectic of these two modes with Arthur’s
thundering percussion and churning seas of Michael’s guitar noise beneath him.
It’s really quite something live, I assure you.
Not only did the headliners perform a great show, but their warm-up acts were also great. New Hampshires “Wild Light” showed excellent musicianship as they all swapped keyboard / bass / and guitar duties and all took turns carrying the vocal burden. I even turned to Lauren at some point and asserted that “I was feelin’ it.” I did think that for such a solid and well-rehearsed band their song (ahem) “California on My Mind” was needlessly puerile.
Also opening were “Experimental Aircraft” who did a very nice shoegaze + blips and blurts. A bit like Ride meets Stereolab in parts, but very much with a strong injection of Joy Division throughout.
I heard via Slicing Up Eyeballs on Facebook that David Byrne has a book coming out: Bicycle Diaries.
David Byrne writing an engaging and interesting book about bicycling is a bit like what I make of Carlos D[engler] of Interpol’s DJ career: “What you aren’t adored by quite enough people?”
Just imagine, the impeccably silver-coiffed Byrne, apparently, chooses to rent, hire, or acquire a bicycle when he reaches the various towns and locales he visits on the occasion of performing as one of the most revered and creative musicians ever.
Yes, not one to rest on being at the forefront of the punk and new wave musical genres — gracing CBGB’s with Blondie, Television and the NY Dolls — or to bask in being one of the original White Guys Who Do World Music (ago gratias tibi Alfredi Garcia), or to simply enjoy being a buddy of the entire country of Brazil, Byrne grabs a velo or a fiets, eschewing those quotidian concerns of drugs and ribaldry, and bikes around, thinking Byrne-y thoughts — thoughts that in lesser (talking?) heads would be the kind of thing they build a musical career on, but which he tosses aside disinterestedly as he pedals on noting that the cantaloupes are ripe.
