LoveSong: Life on Mars: Bowie

So many songs, so little time.

I woke up this morning thinking about Bowie. There'd been a boozy discussion about 'genius': which musicians the word might apply to. It's a conversation as potentially incendiary as a pub trawl over the values of 'Art'. You don't need to like something to appreciate its value. Prince anyone? Genius, but I don't reach for his albums often. Dylan? Indubitably. I play Bruce more. Miles? Yes. Joni? Yes. Macca? Lennon? Nope. I love them both, but their 'genius' was collective: with the Fab Four. Paddy? Possibly. Neil Hannon? Possibly. I don't reckon Paul Buchanan a genius but his music means more to me than Prince's and almost any other artist's.

I rate this particular song, on record, as one of the great modern productions: one of the great vocals. Apparently when Bowie recorded the version on Hunky Dory, he nailed it in one take and fell in a wrecked, wracked, weeping mess at its conclusion: genius made man at the recognition of his gift. That literary giant/midget Rimbaud said “Genius is the recovery of childhood at will” and perhaps that was Bowie's gift: that he could wilfully tap into past wonders: the mysteries and mischief of formative life. Ironic then that the song is apparently about a teenage girl's desire to escape her restrictive childhood. Also paradoxical that this otherworldly man, so often likened to an alien, could speak with a common tongue.

So: Bowie? Yes: without a shadow of a doubt. He dressed his genius up in the clothes of imaginary friends and yet... he still made the song his own.
And here he is, stripping it down to its undies. Even the Liberace piano stylings cannot undermine the power of this brilliant performance.
What a genius!
What an Artist!
What a man!

Distant Voices, Still Lives

Sailing on no honeymoon

Just separate chairs in separate rooms
Jesus, please
Make us happy sometimes
No more shout
No more fight
Family life

It's interesting how arrested many of us are by the Blue Nile song 'Family Life'. I have always thought that it was something to do with the way that singer Paul Buchanan tremulously presents us with shards of personal memory that resonate as universal recognition. Everyone's family life is different, but we all hold moments of collective clan memory that equate to personal pain. That tussle to retain and release what pleases or injures is a mournful shuffle towards something... less. Even if it is a memory full of emptiness - that clumsy dance with the 'everyday' - the cruelties stay with us as a part of our personal history. Of course there's beauty too, but that is often ephemeral, idealised in retrospect. Scars are held as badges of family honour, a kinship of ritual that ties and binds. It's a strange loyalty that we have to the overwhelming burden of a past imperfect. Our fragility and strength are often bequeathed to us by a patriarchal parent: we remain tethered to, and haunted by the sound of their voices. Our past becomes us, as our past becomes us...

Sorry to rattle on but... last night I watched 'Distant Voices, Still Lives', Terence Davies' impressionistic take on a working-class family's life in 1940s and 1950s Liverpool. It is based on Davies's family and is chillingly familiar. Everyone is hopeful for 'happier', but are happy with their lot. The tableau is masterfully held together by music: old familiar tunes, offered as mantras to soundtrack the misery and mirth. I reckon that Paul Buchanan might have watched it before penning his masterpiece. Give it a go: you'll know exactly what I mean.

Bruce Springsteen: Stuck in 'The Middle': With Who?

Bruce Springsteen has finally made an ad: a film in fact: 'The Middle', to help celebrate Jeep's 80th year. And he's getting pelters for it:

"Christian Nationalism! There's no middle with someone who wears a ‘Camp Auschwitz’ shirt or who walks a Confederate flag through the US Capitol. There's no middle with insurrectionists. There's no middle with fascists. There's no middle with anyone who harasses a school shooting survivor.”

“I believe what the Jeep ad was telling us is that if we just set aside our differences with the fascists who want us silenced or dead, Bruce Springsteen will bring us each a Jeep we can use when we eventually have to flee to Canada.”

Bruce himself dedicates the film “To the ReUnited States of America.” and says “It’s no secret … The middle has been a hard place to get to lately. Between red and blue. Between servant and citizen. Between our freedom and our fear. Now, fear has never been the best of who we are. And as for freedom, it’s not the property of just the fortunate few; it belongs to us all.”

Regardless of any fee taken or paid - he is a working man after all - the message seems like a fairly simplistic attempt to unify to me. I’m guessing that Bruce sees it as his job. His blue collar popularism has always appealed across the board. ‘Jeep’ is a nuts and bolts brand aimed at the working man. As is religion. He’s gone to the heart of the country. He’s put on a stetson and gone for the buckle of the Bible Belt. 

Bases loaded and covered then. But, this seems more of a bunt than a home run. Perhaps Bruce is taking stock before a reset and a big swing? Despite his recent public alignment with Democratic politics, Bruce has always stood solid on common ground. Trouble is, the sands have shifted so much recently that Americans are either unsure of their footing or more entrenched than ever. Now, more than ever, the promised land seems more of an American pipe dream than a reality. It’ll be interesting to see how Bruce pitches his next delivery. I don’t anticipate a curve ball but I reckon there’ll be some bile in a heavy delivery. A spit ball then.

What Bruce is trying to endorse with the film is unclear. That’s if his hands were on the wheel. Other than a vague intent to unite, the mystic message is middling, muddled. But is taking a stand for common ground really legitimatising extremism? And wtf is ‘Emotional Terrorism’? At worst Bruce’s message is naive: at least it is well intentioned. Ultimately I hear a simple message: a plea for unity, forgiveness, perhaps even contrition.

The other main criticism seems to be that finally Bruce seems available for sale or rent. It’s not really Bruce trying to sell a car, more a brand trying to ally itself to his. It doesn’t make me want to buy a Jeep. Or a bible. 

Take a look. Do you see Christian Nationalism in the homilies? Do you hear resignation and acceptance of extremism in the call to "meet in the middle"? I just hear a tired, elderly man, keen on unity. Oh, and that sponsor's fee. At least Bruce didn’t give Jeep a song: a hymn: a slogan. Apt that the music he offered was ethereal; impressionistic: there’s nothing more undeniably American, or beautifully vague, than a gently weeping peddle steel guitar.