at work yesterday one of the cleaners put on KISS 108. i was struck by how godawful all the music was- all by dopey contrived male "adult alternative contemporary" piddlers and endlessly imitative, over produced, over filtered house music by the usual tittie twat teen brigade of loser child star bitches. tortured by bad pop music- which is why you no longer see me out. it's rather like this:
"i grow vacant/ stare for days". one of the only fairly good covers of roxy music comes from grace jones. she covered love is the drug . the winter always reminds me of 1985 in boston. going to the 1270 on thursdays to hear linda lawrence spin.
slave to the rhythm/ grace jones:
west end girls/ pet shop boys:
the perfect kiss/ new order( a near perfect 10 fucking minutes of dance music):
dancing horses/ echo and the bunnymen:
state farm/ yazoo:
sensoria/ cabaret voltaire:
i recall walking home to mission hill in the snow after a night of dancing for hours straight- the magical winter wonderland of the fens, alive with people still having sex even though people had started dying from ' gay flu'. pleasure left a wasteland behind it and a cultural void before it. and that's how we ended up thus:
sisters of mercy/ lucretia, my reflection:
dance the ghost with me...