Everybody Knows

 

Who else can write such cynical words and still sound like a beacon of redemption? Goddamn it, the old man is right. I could rhapsodize – again – about how Leonard Cohen is the last great gospel singer, the last great poet of the erotic and the divine, the last great Canadian Jew, but really, the songs speak for themselves.

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
Thats how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died

Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long stem rose
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that you love me baby
Everybody knows that you really do
Everybody knows that youve been faithful
Ah give or take a night or two
Everybody knows youve been discreet
But there were so many people you just had to meet
Without your clothes
And everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
Thats how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
Thats how it goes
Everybody knows

And everybody knows that it’s now or never
Everybody knows that it’s me or you
And everybody knows that you live forever
Ah when youve done a line or two
Everybody knows the deal is rotten
Old black Joe’s still pickin cotton
For your ribbons and bows
And everybody knows

And everybody knows that the plague is coming
Everybody knows that it’s moving fast
Everybody knows that the naked man and woman
Are just a shining artifact of the past
Everybody knows the scene is dead
But theres gonna be a meter on your bed
That will disclose
What everybody knows

And everybody knows that you’re in trouble
Everybody knows what youve been through
From the bloody cross on top of Calvary
To the beach of Malibu
Everybody knows it’s coming apart
Take one last look at this sacred heart
Before it blows
And everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
Thats how it goes
Everybody knows

Oh everybody knows, everybody knows
Thats how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody Getting High

That’s Mick Jagger commenting on a celebrity culture that’s become much crazier since his own golden days. Hypocritical it may seem that Jagger finds drug-fueled jet setting distasteful, but remember in his day things were different. When he had his fun he was rubbing elbows with genius, getting wasted in the service of art. Nowadays everybody’s full of shit and a phony. The high-flying lifestyle of the rich and famous – it was the height of glamor thirty years ago, but now it’s just vacuous. Or so says the man who’s seen, been and lived it all. He is, after all, Mick Jagger. Who can blame him if he thinks Hollywood parties aren’t all that compared to some of the parties he’s been to. And speaking of Mick Jagger and his ongoing quest to do non-Rolling Stones related things, he’s got a new band going; one that includes Dave Stewart, a longtime friend; Joss Stone to share the vocals; Damian Marley, who brought his own rhythm section; and some guy called A.R. Rahman, who hails from Bollywood. It’s called Super Heavy and there’s an album pending. Sounds exciting, no? I’m totally intrigued by the idea of a Mick Jagger/ eighties synth-pop/reggae/Bollywood mashup.

Model of the Week: Du Juan

One thing I noticed about the recent runway shows – the increasingly diverse roster of models. There’d been grumbling in the industry for a few years about runways being too blonde, too white, too generic. Now we’re seeing so many more young models from all over the globe. Including, increasingly, more Asian faces. A couple of years ago I wrote a post about how disproportionately underrepresented in fashion Asian women have been. White faces still predominate, and it will be a long time before that changes, but the number of models with roots on the Asian continent has skyrocketed. Among them, Shanghai native Du Juan has been building a name for herself for about five years now, making her among the most established Asian models. Du began modeling after being told she was too tall to continue the ballet career she’d been pursuing. Since then she’s walked countless shows for top designers, appeared in all the top magazines and became the face of L’oreal’s Chinese marketing.

with Raquel Zimmermann

with Coco Rocha and Chanel Iman

Every Word

“All your slick moves, they were once innocent moves.”

Sade is one sophisticated lady. It’s not just her looks, although those are astounding. It’s the longing and melancholy in her voice when she sings about the universal travails of love. Her voice, her words, the romantic woe in her music. It’s also her great sense of tact. She’s the essence of sophistication because she understands her own allure. She’s got a sound that’s unmistakable and her fans love her. That’s all she needs. There’s no denying she’s a great star, an icon. Yet she’s kept, for nearly three decades of stardom, her own self shrouded in mystery. It’s public knowledge there was once a marriage, and there is a daughter and a home in Stroud. But Sade isn’t one to put herself in public for any reason but to perform. Her relationships, her family, her privacy are closely guarded. She writes songs which have the ring of truth -when she sings about heartbreak, there’s no lie in her voice – but never do her songs point fingers. She’s never crossed the line between expressing her feelings and bringing out the dirty laundry. Being private when she needs to and being public when she has something to offer artistically has been her way. And that’s class. It’s not necessary to know the intimate details of an artist’s life to understand or appreciate the art, and in our day of total media immersion more stars should take a lesson from Sade on bowing gracefully in and out of the spotlight.

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

So let’s assume this is the same relationship from the previous Police song, before it devolved into a stalker situation. See, it predates Every Breath You Take by two years, which is plenty of time for good times to turn bad. First, in 1981, every little thing she did was magic. By 1983 something has gone wrong and Sting is watching every step she takes, presumably disregarding a restraining order. In 1984 he’s the king of pain, for whatever reason. Then The Police break up and Sting is never heard from again. No, actually, Sting was heard from again, frequently, and frankly I don’t know the first thing about his life, except that he and his wife like TMI and PDA. I’m just totally free associating here. It’s funny to imagine little narratives from the words of songs, even and maybe especially if they don’t correlate to real life at all.

Every Little Bit Hurts

Nobody ever accused The Clash of not being sensitive, have they? Sometimes it’s the toughest guys who are most convincing with love songs. Because you know if a tough guy’s singing about crying and dying he’s got to be serious. This classic has been through many iterations since its birth in 1964 in the hands of Brenda Holloway, including versions by heavyweights like Aretha Franklin, Gladys Knight and Alicia Keys. The Clash recorded their cover during the prolific Sandinista! sessions. Sandinista!, already bursting at the seams with 36 tracks, just didn’t have room for a mushy soul cover, and the song didn’t see daylight until the even burstier 1991 box set Clash On Broadway. That is why box sets and special editions should be paid close attention to. They sometimes yield finds that rank as high in quality as any chart-topper, yet forgotten.

Every Drop Of Rain

More Here Lies Love stuff, starring Candie Payne and St Vincent, neither of whom I’d previously known of. David Byrne showed impeccable taste in selecting the most beautiful female voices for his record. I’ve checked out these ladies and they’re both well worth checking out. Candie Payne is a Liverpudlian who draws on sixties girl groups, which is a big thing right now. St Vincent, whose real name is Annie Clark, formerly of Polyphonic Spree, is more eclectic, using everything from electronica to jazz as influences. Both worth a look-see.

Every Dreadlocks

Did I say Chill Out was my faves Black Uhuru record? I might have lied. It might be Sinsemilla. Or it might be a tie…

In non-music events, be forewarned, there’s been a spot of computer trouble the last couple of days. It’s behaving itself this minute, but who knows what it’s gonna do next. I may have to do a full system wipe and reboot, or worst-case, purchase a fresh hard-drive. Hopefully I can avoid a three week visit to PC Guru, but we’ll see. If I’m offline for a while, you know why.

Every Breath You Take

This is a most classic Police song that everyone knows and loves, a totem of 80′s pop, instantly recognizable. It was, of course, a chartbuster. Younger listeners (who have no taste) will recognize the tune from Puff Money Dirty Daddy Diddy Whatever the Fuck His Stupid Name Is using the melody but not the words in his ’97 tribute to the hip hop martyr B.I.G. Which, by the way, was so mind-alteringly horrible mere words can’t do justice to its badness. In short, it’s a very famous and popular song that netted a lot of cash for everyone involved. It is also, you’ll notice, really really creepy. It’s about stalking some poor woman through every move she makes. Can’t you just imagine looking out the window at 3am and seeing Sting sitting outside in his car? Sting hanging around the parking lot of your workplace waiting for your lunch break. Sting ‘just happening’ to ‘bump into’ you at the supermarket?. Sting sending you vaguely threatening notes tied up with Valentine chocolates. Sting boiling your bunny after you’ve told him for the umpteenth time to shove off. Sting breaking the restraining order again and again. Sting in handcuffs after he tried to break into your house and assault your new boyfriend. Creepy stalker shit right there, Sting!

Ever Fallen In Love

Yes, all the time. It’s the only way.

Today is one of my favorite things – topsy-turvy cover songs. Because Buzzcocks and bossa nova are just screaming to go together. Purists might take offense, but my opinion is the lovely ladies of Nouvelle Vague blew the Buzzcocks’ original straight outta the water. Okay, alright, the original was good, but I don’t particularly like the Buzzcocks and simply adore muzzy French beauties, so for me it’s not a hard choice. Maybe you’ll agree that Nouvelle Vague’s low-key approach really does justice to the emotional content of the song, which can get a little  blurred underneath a guitar attack. The words are simply meaningful, and I’m sure they were perfectly heartfelt coming from the mouth of Pete Shelley. But they do seem to resonate more loudly in the mouths of girls, or maybe I’m biased.