m

BLOG
Showing posts with label Boy George. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boy George. Show all posts

Monday, January 16, 2017

FB Questionnaire: Top 10 Records of My Teens

Sixteen.
This latest Facebook questionnaire asks you to name the top ten records of your teen years. This one sparked more than a few, shall we say, enthusiastic discussions among my social network. There were some near-Unfriending incidents. Granted, mine is a particularly musically-charged gang of misfits. Dear friends absolutely demolish each other over hot button issues such as whether or not Billy Squire got robbed. (Update: Don't @ me.)

Songs in the Key of Life - Stevie Wonder


Colour By Numbers - Culture Club

Purple Rain - Prince
Rocky Horror Picture Show - soundtrack
Working Class Dog - Rick Springfield
Rapture - Anita Baker


Pretty in Pink - soundtrack
Thriller - Michael Jackson
Love Songs - The Beatles (compilation)

*Runners-Up
Dream Into Action - Howard Jones
No Parlez - Paul Young


Even Now - Barry Manilow
Afterburner - ZZ Top

Off the Coast of Me - Kid Creole and the Coconuts

Thursday, July 28, 2016

Throwing Back to 1983: Culture Club

Culture Club got so popular so fast that I needed to rouse myself from my summer of 2016 grim languor and actually do research. Billboard charts show that, yes, these guys were the first band since the Beatles to chart with 4 songs at once. No wonder it's all a blur.

"Do You Really Want to Hurt Me" was the first charting single off Culture Club's debut album Kissing to be Clever (1982), then they followed quickly with Colour By Numbers and more hit singles. Every hit had a video. Wouldn't you, if you were such a visual delight and was 1982? I fell headlong in love. I'm certain that what pulled me into Culture Club's incredibly infectious blend of new wave and blue-eyed soul ("the blues in high heels") was the second album, Colour by Numbers, and that it began with the video for "Church of the Poison Mind. " You see, in the earlier "Do You Really Want To Hurt Me" Boy George was doing his kicky/sway dance moves, but he was a bit stiff and his expression remained stony throughout. But in "Church of the Poison Mind" Boy George lets fly his wholly endearing personality. Those devious eyes are sparkling, he's smiling, he's singing with his hands, his cheeky wit is popping off the screen. The uptempo pop/soul tunesmithery is accompanied by the band members running away from Japanese paparazzi, down streets and through alleys, and finally escaping through a door in a brick wall into an airplane, which Roy Hay and Jon Moss pilot to New York. Not only that, but "Church of the Poison Mind" also prominently features Helen Terry. Helen was the shit. Her gospel vocals soar, murmur or sidle alongside, around and over Boy George's velvety croon. That lady sends that whole record over the top. When Helen sings, ain't nobody sitting down.

Culture Club shot off like a firecracker and burned out just as fast. Waking Up With The House On Fire (1984) offered few gems, the standout track being "Mistake No. 3." I'd suggest that maybe they should have spent more time with the material instead of rushing a third release so quickly, but I don't think it would have helped. Boy George was reportedly leading an ill-advised, excessive lifestyle and the band couldn't survive the tumult. They broke up in 1986 and things looked pretty dire for Boy George. But happy ending -- he does bounce back with some respectable solo projects, famously sang the title tune for The Crying Game, and today a new, once again slim and happy-looking Boy George is back performing for the people.

I played my Colour By Numbers album until it warped, then I got the cassette, then the CD, and now I just stream it. Colour By Numbers has traveled with me for three decades across the great digital divide.  It's other big hits were "Karma Chameleon" of course, and "Miss Me Blind," but if you have never heard "Black Money," "Stormkeeper" or "Victims" then you really need to get Colour By Numbers. "Victims" brilliantly ends the record, as well as any argument against Culture Club being anything but pure genius.


(This essay was part of a "Throwback Thursday" series requested by a friend. A bunch of us did it. You're supposed to post, and write about, one "top favorite" video from the 1980s every Thursday.)

Sunday, May 22, 2016

It's A Miracle

Pam had an extra ticket to see Cyndi Lauper and Boy George at the Wang Theatre. Guess who got to go? ME. That kind of thing never happens to me. Thanks, Pammeke! And thanks, person-who-couldn't-make-it-whose-seat-I-took!

First of all, I love The Wang. It's one of those right proper old art deco theatres. You know, decked out with red velvet and gold trim, ceiling paintings, sculptural detail and fancy chandeliers. It opened in the 1920s and holds 3500 delighted Gen Xers. Pam scored orchestra seats, row M for Motherf*****, how'd you score these seats?
Pam and I just wore what we'd worn that day, but the audience in general is largely to be commended on their various get-ups in the style of generic 80s, or costumed as Cyndi or George. Some of them went all out, down to the fingernails! It looked exhausting. I imagined fishnet imprint in the back of my thighs and was glad I was just wearing my normal clothes. Then again to re-assess "Pam and I just wore what we'd worn that day." My beautiful friend was in a funky green patterned retro-dress, tights and boots, and a biker hat. I was in a red tunic and a lacy scarf over black & white patterned leggings & my old Doc Martens. An authentic pair, and I'm not just referring to my boots. My boots, and Pam and I, have crossed the decades with this music. No costume required.
On this mini tour Cyndi and George are switching who goes first, according to the bellowing doorman whose primary information could have been accomplished by a sign. "Cyndi goes on first!" and "Will call to the left! If you have your tickets, go straight up the middle!"

Cyndi wore all black with a corset, her hair these days an aggressive busby of bubblegum pink. She's in fine voice, the band sounds fantastic. She opened with "She Bop," her naughty "this is really about masturbation" song. But it seems this tour, the bubbly chanteuse is in a melancholy "cowboy song" mode. She did Patsy Cline's "Walking After Midnight," and one or two more from that era. She did "When You Were Mine," a Prince tune she's been covering for decades. All told, a very intimate "storytelling" style of set, with like a 20 minute lead-in to set the mood describing when she first heard rock n' roll, growing up in "Ozone Pawk, where there's a lawta people who tawk like me." Two encores, the first was a loud one she launched into with a yell, "Are ya ready?!" and the band swung into "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." There may have been someone who didn't leap up and sing along, but I didn't see that guy. Great set!  The final encore was "Time After Time," a gift to the lofty space and met with a respectful resounding quiet, as she performed it solo on just her lap dulcimer. She closed with an amazing version of "True Colors," and the audience went wild when she held a "power to the people" pose for long enough to matter. Superior set, and I goggled at Pam that after that magnificent show we still get to see Boy friggin' George now?

His crew got set up fast, including a full drum kit and a percussionist, in fact the young dude playing records while we waited got his set cut short! I'm sure he didn't mind, because here comes Boy George. George came out wearing I think his own clothing designs, if not his then a contemporary -- a tunic & leggings with cartoonish motif, couldn't tell exactly the detail even from row M, a funky black jacket and quite a large yellow hat. I couldn't love him any harder. George was in fine voice, these blues in high heels never sounded better. Three backup singers doing the parts Helen Terry did in the 80s. They were fantastic. Unbelievably he mined the back catalog! Dude had a whole career after 1989 but only did one song from post-Culture Club (Bow Down Mister), everything else he pulled from Colour by Numbers or Kissing to be Clever, plus some cover songs. I thought it was a good move. He probably figured with a twin bill of 80s icons that the crowd would be appreciative of a retrospective. I loved it, didn't expect it because Culture Club just came thru here a few months ago. He was jokey with the front row, a little bitchy with the crew but in a lovable way. "Shall I sit down here like this, in this position? Could we do better? It's not that expensive, is it?" For the last song (of the set, there were 2 encores) Cyndi came out, resplendent in a loungey track suit surely made by the designer of George's tunic set. Together they led the delirious audience through a raucous "Karma Chameleon."

Boy George Set List (Boston: May 21, 2016)

Fun Time (Stooges cover)
It's a Miracle
I'll Tumble 4 Ya
Church of the Poison Mind
The Jean Genie (Bowie cover)
Do You Really Want To Hurt Me
Miss Me Blind
Karma Chameleon (w/ Cyndi Lauper)

Encore:
Bang a Gong (T Rex cover w/ Cyndi Lauper)
Bow Down Mister

Encore:
Imagine (Lennon cover, quiet duo w/ Cyndi Lauper on her dulcimer)



Dirty Sweet 'N You're My Girl

Walking to the train after, I confided to Pam that I felt like I had some spiritual communing with Genine, gone from this plane just over a month now and still on my mind daily. I'd read Genine's Obituary and traded some messages with others from high school who were lucky enough to get into her warm light for awhile, but I didn't go to the memorial service and didn't feel like a proper goodbye could be achieved. At the Wang I fucking thought I saw her. I know for sure I felt her. Then I realized with a surge of happiness that I'll always feel her whenever Boy George sings a song. That's magic. Pam and I sat on a low wall sipping Starbucks late-nite teas and talking about the gifts the universe brings, trading stories about things that happen that can't always be explained, but you just need to keep your heart open and let it happen. It's nice when you find others who "get it."

So. Pam had an extra ticket to see Cyndi Lauper and Boy George at the Wang Theatre. Guess who got to go? Muggins here. That kind of thing never happens to me. Thanks, Pammeke! And thanks, person-who-couldn't-make-it-whose-seat-I-took! And thanks, Genine. Because of course.



Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Dirty Sweet 'N You're My Girl (Eulogy For An Awesome Chick)

Genine was a high school friend. Brief, bright and deep, that was our love, from about mid-freshmen year to the summer of junior year. I wish I could find my goddamn yearbook so I could see what we wrote into the blurbs on each others' pages at graduation. Was it "remember when we..." and was it promises to keep in better touch? It's things like that you grasp for, when you find out a one-time friend is gone.

Sunday, November 8, 2015

Top Ten Tiger Beat Stars, Redux

This one's for my girlfriends and all the 80s kids, my big-haired comrades-in-legwarmers, a delightfully shrill roving army on rollerskates. We wore neon and spandex and acid-washed baggy designer jeans, and we launched the careers of our Tiger Beat Star boyfriends. Oh yes, Rick Springfield, you're nothing without us! Same for you, Johnny Depp. You're welcome, John Stamos. And all of these dreamboats whose faces wallpapered our bedroom walls. Pulpy pin-ups gleefully clipped coiffed and pouting and posing alongside important articles such as, "Be The Girl Who Understands Him Best!" Like, fer sure. 


1. Elm Street, Jump Street, Easy Street

Johnny Depp, he of the sky-high luxurious locks, chocolate brown gaze and the pout'iest pout of the decade, appeared on my teenage radar with his roles on 21 Jump Street and Nightmare on Elm Street. In the former, Johnny played a narcotics cop that looked young enough to pull off posing as a high school student, and in the latter, he was one of the hapless victims of Freddy Kreuger -- a bed ate him up. As we both grew older I grew to appreesh Mr. Depp for more than just his face. The dude knows how to pick a script. With so many stupid movies launching the careers of pretty young men, it was endearing that Johnny Depp was holding out for more complex roles, demonstrating a respectable preference for artistry over easy money.  Edward Scissorhands and Ed Wood were wonderfully strange projects where the actor's portrayals were above par for the times, over the top but complex, and then he'd go all understated and quiet for roles such as What's Eating Gilbert Grape. He's a bit odd, sure. Bought an island and lived there for awhile, plus he's cultivated that odd "actor's accent." Rumor ihas it he's now got a house in Woodbury, CT near where my parents live.



2. Androgeny Progeny

Grade school teachers love to torture us with writing assignments like "What I Want For Christmas," "What I Did Last Summer" and "My Hero: _______."  In 7th grade my hero was Boy George. Having been raised on a musical diet of soul and R&B, this golden-throated creature and his "blues in high heels" knocked me out of my Buster Browns. In my essay I babbled for six pages, front and back, fangirling from the bottom of my heart all the reasons George O'Dowd (I recall adopting the tweenager's superior tone for simply knowing his real name) deserved to be my hero. I'm sure a great many words were merely attempts to state the importance of his androgynous style, something that I'd never seen before but which shaped my entire world from then forward. I've adored Boy George through decades of mediocrity, too, signing off emails with his lyrics and dressing up in his peerless 80s styles for costume parties. In the 90s Boy George, a complex individual, had run-ins with the law, did community service, went through a drug phase, a fat phase, Jesus Christ alone only knows what else. But it's 2015 and he's back in fine voice and full-tilt boogie awesome. I hope Boy George is fixing to resurrect his fabulous former pop & soul elegance. Just the idea makes me and my inner 7th-grader deliriously happy.



3. Getting Better

In Earth Girls Are Easy Jeff Goldblum sidles out of that salon steamroom door and into our fangirly dreams. If you missed the movie, that's okay, it is pretty dumb. Geena Davis, in real life a Mensa society member and award-winning archer, plays a ditzy underachiever who discovers that a spaceship has landed in her swimming pool with three furry aliens inside. It's an early role for Jim Carrey and Damon Wayons, who are both totes adorbs. But Jeff Goldbum, though. Geena Davis and her girlfriend, played by Downtown Julie Brown, help the alien dudes blend in with the population of the Valley in the 80s, so Julie, a beauty salon owner, shaves them and gives them clothes. Emerging shorn and swarthy in a cloud of steam, Jeff, all cheekbones and lips, gazes at gobsmacked Geena and asks, "Good?" Um, yeah. Very good. Hes like some kind of feral man-beast. Damn, bitch, Jeff Goldbum was a fine ass alien. Throughout his career he delivered performances both awesome and forgettable, sometimes sexy for being sexy like in Jurassic Park ("I bring scientists, YOU bring a rawk stah!")  and sometimes sexy for being brainy like in Independence Day, and oh why not, The Fly -- with the beautiful Geena Davis again. "You're getting worse!" "I'm getting better." Role to role, he's consistent, funny, sincere and always with that unmistakably awkward, distinctive Goldblum-ness. His latest is a Microsoft commercial where he coaches disappointed gift-recipients on how to fake-act appreciation. Hopelessly charming.



4. The Brat Pack Representin'

The "brat pack" was the name used to define the "it crowd" of the 80s, playing upon the term "rat pack" that defined the gaggle of entertainers that surrounded Frank Sinatra back in the day. The term "brat pack" managed to convey both the huge star power as well as the snark and swagger of the decade's young Hollywood elite. Who were they? Go to imdb.com, start with Emilio Estevez in 1985, and do a 6-degrees thing -- that's them. Molly Ringwald, Judd Nelson, you know the Pack. Of all the Brat Pack faces that melted the decade's most jaded hearts, Rob Lowe is the clear superlative. Strong jaw, sincere smile and piercing baby blues for days. Over the decades, from The West Wing to Parks and Recreation, Rob Lowe has managed to maintain the shimmering, flawlessness of his glory days, and is it just me or is this guy improving with a little gray hair and a few wrinkles? I think yes. I have proof. Recently uttered by one of his Parks and Recreation colleagues that may or may not have been Nick Offerman, "His face is magic."



5. Laughing In The Purple Rain

The dude may have spent the better part of the 80s running around in purple velvet and white lace, made up in heavy eyeliner n' done up in an astonishing busby of slick curls. And sure, a fog machine seemed to follow him around. But Prince Rogers Nelson was the shit, and remains the ultimate in badassery to this day. Prince ruled the stage on high heels, gyrating and staring lustily into the camera. The man was not afraid to use his tongue to get a point across, right? Prince blended the sexy licks and swagger of Jimi Hendrix with dance and funk, coming up with something quite new. I absorbed Purple Rain into my blood. Killer songcraft, guitars for days, and he was so prolific he even penned songs for pop stars like Madonna and Sinead O'Connor. Admittedly, in the late 80s Prince went a little overboard, experimenting with long form concept records and new personas, changing his name to a symbol and weirding everyone out with all the God stuff -- pretty much refusing to perform his former sex-driven discography amid rumors of inviting women over to pray. But based on recent appearances, he's made something of a return to pop culture and seems to have found the inner peace he was clearly seeking. Hope so. God makes people so weird. Hope the purple one comes back strong.



6. Just a Good Old Boy

Be still my 9-year old heart, the crush I had on Bo Duke! Our whole family watched The Dukes of Hazzard on Friday nights. My brother and I loved The Incredible Hulk, Different Strokes, and Happy Days, but we lost our shit over The Dukes of Hazzard. The dumbest of all prime time shows, we worshiped those Duke boys, especially surfer-boy, blue-eyed Bo with the dreamy smile and flop of blonde hair. Bo always drove the General Lee, making sweet jumps and going up on two wheels. The show holds up not-at-all from an adult perspective, from the ridiculousness of two punk-ass cousins constantly baiting the local cops and causing havoc around town, to the specious lifestyles of these Dukes. What did they do for a living? Why did they drink buttermilk, can you even DO that? And why did they weld their car doors shut? But in those days, nobody minded. These days, formerly round-chinned, angelic John Schneider is a chiseled, ruggedly handsome actor playing bit parts on TV here and there, including a reprisal of Bo Duke in a TV commercial along with Tom Wopat.



7. Domo Arigato, Mr. Shaw

Mr. Roboto was one of the first videos I saw when MTV first launched. Really, thank God for MTV. One of the benefits of music video was introducing a person to a band she may not have otherwise discovered. In those days, my parents were raising us on an awesome and steady diet of soul and R&B with some jazz and classic pop like The Beatles and Donovan, and my eldest cousin introduced the heavier rock like Ozzy, Van Halen and Led Zep. But if not for MTV I wouldn't have been introduced to bands like The Cars and Styx. I grew to love Styx, and found my first guitar god in one Tommy Shaw. I tore out a full page from Hit Parade and pinned the blonde shredder to my bedroom wall along with my other boyfriends. He has changed a lot, but today's guitar wizard is still a major dude, older and wiser with just the right amount of scruffitude, and the man still wails like a demon on that guitar.



8. The Fresh Prince

Way before The Fresh Prince of Bel Air came on TV (1990), Will Smith appeared on MTV along with DJ Jazzy Jeff and Ready Rock C, making a sensation with the hit single "Parents Just Don't Understand." I was more used to the edgier, politically-charged rap style of trailblazers like Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five, so The Fresh Prince brought a more fun, accessible rap to a white Connecticut teenager at just the right time. Will Smith helped provide a cultural handshake, always a stroke of brilliance in a musical artist. And man, did I love me some Will Smith, so yeah, I watched The French Prince of Bel Air in college. I learned all the lyrics to the long version of the theme song (it's longer than you think) and even though we were both no longer teenagers I somehow still feel like I "grew up" with the Fresh Prince. These days, he's still a huge talent, still presents as a super nice guy, still keeps himself in great shape. He goes skydiving, plays basketball, and he's raising some very talented, gorgeous kids too. I will watch Will Smith in anything.



9. Success Hasn't Spoiled Him Yet

I don't recall if it was Jessie's Girl on the radio or the appearance of Dr. Noah Drake on General Hospital, but my friends and I wigged out over Rick Springfield. We listened to Working Class Dog and Success Hasn't Spoiled Me Yet, on vinyl, over and over, we danced to every song, we knew his dog's name, we called each other squealing on the phone whenever Dr. Noah Drake did something amazing. We heard he lived in Glendale, California so we looked up Glendale on the map at the library, which is a very very old sentence to say. We felt a teenage girl's ownership over the guy, and if memory serves we made our parents take us to see him in concert three times. Right now he's in a movie about a band's life on the road, starring Meryl Streep as bandleader. I will probably see it. I should also check out some of his music after 1987, I have been remiss. Sorry Rick, there was a lot going on, but I'll getchoo, boo.



10. Uncle Jesse

Another General Hospital heartbreaker, John Stamos joined the show as a mad, bad dude they called Blackie Parrish. That is literally the only fact that I can recall. They don't exactly write soap operas for longevity. Blackie Parrish offered a titillating combination of babyfaced cuteness along with this dark, swarthy bad boy thing, and given his perpetual seething anger, he was a big hit with girls of an age -- my age -- where we wouldn't have known what to do with him if he suddenly showed up at the skating rink where we spent our Saturdays. These days the same girls would probably just give him some nice soup and tell him to use a coaster, but tell him in no uncertain terms that it's absolutely ridiculous how handsome he still is all these years later.  John Stamos is, right now, starring in a new TV show as a grandfather who didn't even know he had a kid, let alone a kid with a kid. I won't be watching it, because...why would I watch that...I'm betting it's canceled by the time you read this. However, fantastic casting in an actor of grandfatherly age who does not look like anyone's idea of a grandfather. I mean, really, John Stamos, what the hell, pretty boy.

**************************

Before I go, there was one young man that, had he gotten the chance to make it out of the Hollywood drug scene, would be at the top of my list. I'm sure of it. He was an exquisite beauty and a fine actor. My age exactly, River Phoenix died when we were 23. His death hit me hard personally, and it felt like the world at large had suffered the loss of a genuine talent that never even got the chance to develop into greatness. What a shame. Forever young, rest in peace, River.

River Phoenix
1970 - 1993