Everything’s Alright


From David Bowie’s 1980 Floor Show, which despite the misleading title filmed in 1973, mainly to promote Pin Ups and the upcoming Diamond Dogs. It’a quite the historic document. It’s a showcase of some super classic songs, and also notable because Bowie changed costumes for every one. Of those costumes, this is a mild example, though we do see the classic Ziggy ‘do, the shaved brows, neon yellow britches, and some shoes our boy can barely flounce across the stage in. I don’t think it’s available on DVD, for whatever mysterious reason, but if you find a bootleg, by all means invest in it.

Don’t Speak

Ok, I’m not a huge No Doubt fan. They came from the nineties. They were a reasonably alright band. They made a few good songs. I like this song and their cover of It’s My Life. I’m just crazy in love with Gwen Stefani and her personal style. She is a fucking hero. She singlehandedly made neon hair a fashion statement. When she had braces it was cool. When she did bindi it was cool. So strong is her sway that when she showed up on the red carpet wearing what appeared to be the flayed pelt of Cookie Monster tied around her waist, fashion tabloids politely cropped her bottom half and focussed only on how great her hair looked. Since her mad surfer girl days she’s really matured gracefully and her retro-modern style is as influential as ever. Every starlet worth her salt today wants to start her own label, and seriously every one of them does. But Gwen Stefani is one of the very few who actually deserves to have her own label, and her L.A.M.B. line is  successful and acclaimed, because she’s got a unique aesthetic that people want a piece of. Stefani is a true original.


11:59 was the B-side for Heart Of Glass back in 1979 when the concept of ‘sides’ was still viable. See, back in the day they used to release singles on these little 7″ rounds of vinyl, with a song on each side, A and B. Why someone would bother purchasing a two song disc instead of waiting for the whole album to drop, I don’t know, except in those cases when the big singles weren’t included on the album they were meant to promote, but I think they stopped pulling that ol’ bait ‘n switch sometime in the sixties. Honestly, I don’t know how singles are disseminated nowadays. No one in their right brain-space is going to buy a CD with less than 10 songs on it, because that’s just such a ridiculous waste of time, money and plastic. There’s iTunes, I suppose, where you can download a single (or album track) for 99 cents. But again, why bother when you can bootleg it for free, or if you’ve got scruples, stream it on YouTube or Pandora or Jango or MySpace, or one of any number of free music streaming venues the interwebs have to offer. I guess singles to serve some purpose – they get played on the radio, they give artists an excuse to film extravagant videos, and they may even be worth buying if you’re reasonably certain that you won’t be able to tolerate a full forty minutes of Bruno Mars music. I’m amazed that Top 40 radio still flourishes despite being about as obsolete as the horse and buggy. Why does anyone still bother when everything and the kitchen sink is available online, faster, cheaper and better?

On a different tangent, observe below, Deborah Harry looking stunning in, um, harem shorts? White pantaloons? God forbid,  a white pantaloon harem onesie? It’s like I said yesterday, Deb is above and beyond the conventions of mere mortals. If she likes jumpers and onesies, so it will be, and she rocks it. Watch her and weep.

Cosmic Slop

I don’t usually take requests, but I’ll make an exception. This is for Vasil, who suffers unfairly at the hands of schoolyard bullies, a.k.a his coworkers.  (We were just talking about how weird it is that our workplace is more high school than high school ever was – except this time around I’m popular and the other kids talk to me.) I took his request because no one should have to go day-in, day-out on a diet of Mexican hip-hop, ‘the best country variety’ and that dumb doucherag Charlie Hodge. And also because Funkadelic’s Cosmic Slop is a trip and a half, a far-out great song from a great album, and no less funky for being delivered by a (presumably extremely hammered) man wearing a diaper. Let’s take note how, besides their vast musical influence, Funkadelic deftly presaged the trends of rave culture, including giant fuzzy hats, giant plastic pacifiers, giant oddly shaped sunglasses, and of course, grown-ass men wearing diapers.

Editions of You

Two videos each featuring uniquely glamorous performances. I love a band who knows how to dress. I’m not advocating that everyone should dress like this (yes I am), but the stage bound among us should consider it part of their calling to dress impressively. Duly noted, Ferry is fabulous as can be, Eno looks like a gay cockatiel, and Manzanera looks nearly normal (Nearly Normal Phil!). Andy Mackay is wearing, in both videos, what appears to be something from the Jolly Green Giant line of fetish wear. Which I’m all in favor of. Down with flannel!

Drive-In Saturday

“She’s uncertain if she likes him, but she knows she really loves him”

A man walks down the street in that outfit, people know he’s not afraid of anything.

Take it from the red-haired alien with the chandelier earring. That line above, it’s a sentiment that doesn’t make sense – until one day you realize you know exactly what it means. Because you’re there and it’s your sentiment. I think it’s infatuation he’s talking about, that feeling. All going to show there isn’t a moment in life without a line of Bowie to turn to. Even if you have to find these moments of truth inside of some of Ziggy’s science-fiction twisted ideas of post-apocalyptic Americana. Presciently, he thought the American path was leading to a world where the virtual experience replaced any flesh-and-blood actions.

Not to stray too far off topic, but doesn’t Ziggy look lovely? I gotta say though, as I’ve gotten older I’ve come to realize that what I thought was my manly ideal really isn’t. Admittedly, I’ve never crossed paths with anyone even remotely resembling a Bowie, and if I did my brain would surely melt right down my spine, but…Honestly, the qualities that I value in Bowie, Jagger and their idolatrous ilk don’t translate to real people. In other words, IRL cross-dressing anorexics aren’t all that attractive. Alpha males are attractive. Everything I think is attractive in rock stars, I really want for myself. I don’t want a spaceboy, I wanna be a spaceboy. Another way to put it; admire him though I do (and I do and I do and I do) I can’t imagine wanting to be around someone like the young Bowie – his bow is strung too tightly – but I can dream and dream about being the young Bowie. It’s all a moot point, though, because Ziggy Stardust doesn’t exist and never did and David Bowie would be the first to tell you that.


“All my fears are water-clear, when I’m not with you.”

First off, look at that picture and just try to tell me you don’t wanna lick those pants. Because they’re shiny! And we wanna lick shiny things! Am I right? It’s just me, then, innit? Uhhm. Moving on…The elven one has conjured a transcendent love song (which you should put on your Valentine’s Day playlist). Tyrannosaurus Rex always evoked dream states – a sense of floating – and they did it better and better, until exploding into the fully electric. A Beard Of Stars was the perfect moment of balance between the primeval bongo-based folk of the earliest records and Bolan’s more urbane influences on the electric guitar. The ongoing evolution of Bolan’s vision….Bolan’s vision, uh…shiny pants…I’m getting distracted. Look at all those flower pots and that wrought-iron railing. Look how his guitar is almost as big as he is. Try to tell me you don’t want to crawl inside that photo and live there forever. You could water Marc’s flowers.