akmed

perhaps the greatest single band of the 70's whose influence pretty much dictated the course of the 80's- roxy music. eno left early on to exploit/ produce( depending on who you speak with) a slew of important bands - from the only recordings of some of the nyc no wave bands to devo and to have a very profound impact on his own on all techno's little honkie bastard droppings- from ambient to chill out to trip hop-any electronic ' dance' music only certain types of males are ravingly fond of playing for one another. bryan ferry is a singer's singer and manages to still be one sexy bastard even with that outrageous gay 'stash. here is pop music with layers of meaning sung with an exacting passion. who the fuck now could write let alone preform ' mother of pearl'- such a fascinating, complex song, a love song that is neither simple minded nor trite? even her royal highness siouxsie falls rather flat trying to cover ' sea breezes'.



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...