If it's performance art, it must be the 1980s ...

Just a few weeks ago, I was in Paris and watched an irritating opera called Pastorale. The music was a pastiche of everything you've heard from John Adams in the past 30 years. The visuals, however, were astounding ... well, they were astounding in 1983 when I saw the one-night version of Laurie Anderson's United States, which used the same visual tricks but with much better content and a more serious context.

Hard to believe now, but Laurie Anderson actually had a U.K. hit single with all eight minutes of "O Superman," which got her a big label recording contract and money to do beyond-state-of-the-art live shows. It also kicked off "performance art" as a lingua franca term that went far beyond the few scattered Fluxus followers wandering around upstate New York.

I've seen Laurie Anderson several times since then. A few times, she was great. A few times, "disappointing" would be giving too much praise. And "disappointing" is the word I'd use with most of the "performance artists" who ended up getting a shot at the big-time music world after her "O Superman" fluke hit. Among those are the subject of this post: Bob and Bob. Specifically, Dark Bob and Light Bob.

I couldn't have told you a whole lot about them until I stumbled on Dark Bob's Web site. All you need to know to not want to know more is that Dark Bob -- or as he prefers to be known, The Dark Bob -- is that he now collaborates with the painful, painful Andy Dick.

But back in 1983, he was collaborating with Light Bob and -- coasting on that Laurie Anderson wave -- he managed to get a lone 12" dance single out on the Polydor label ... and what an irritating record "We Know You're Alone" is. I didn't like it all that much in 1983 and I don't like it now. It feels very forced -- sort of, "We're making an ironic statement by issuing a dance-style record with stupid lyrics because we know the record-buying public is stupid and we're so clever and we'll probably have a hit." Well, as Spy magazine found out in the 1990s, irony can only carry you so far in this world.

An actual dance beat would have helped rather than a weird, not-quite-on-the-beat percussion track. And unlike Devo, Bob and Bob also failed to understand that simple doesn't necessarily mean stupid. Almost everyone can spot the difference between minimalist-but-pointed lyrics and plain dumb ones.

The record featured a long version of  "We Know You're Alone" and an even longer dance version plus a b-side track called "We've Been Seeing Things" that's slightly -- but not much -- better.

(BTW, don't be confused by the cover. It is so not a Tom Tom Club sounding item.)

So, for curiosity value, enjoy Bob's and Bob's "We Know You're Alone" EP. (No password on this one.)

What Were They Thinking?

As far as music (or anything else for that matter), it's a very different world from 1979. We all know the music industry has lost its way and doesn't have strategy for anything. But back then, record labels tried to think "long-term" about artists and albums. In particular, there was the "singles strategy" ... the first single may not be a huge hit but is designed to attract attention to the album release. The subsequent singles were then pushed harder for the hits, which would then in turn continue to drive album sales. 

The reason for that story today is is to figure out why Stiff Records -- one of my all-time favorite labels -- chose to kill the career of the one-of-a-kind singer / saxophonist Lene Lovich with the single release of "What Will I Do without You?". This was the third UK single from her successful Flex  album, which had already yielded the semi-successful "Bird Song" and "Angels" singles.  Those were both bad choices for singles, being low on melody and high on atmosphere. (They both had fabulous videos, though. For proof see, "Bird Song" Video.)

To try and regroup, the label chose the most "immediate" song from Flex for the third single, "What Will I Do without You?". They packaged it in a double 7" with four previously unreleased live tracks to help drive interest. But what they forgot to do was issue the actual album track as the single; instead, the company chose to release a demo version of the song as a single. Instead of the sophisticated, danceable album version, they pushed a plodding version with a personality-free vocal from Lovich. (And if you've heard anything by her, you know that her recordings -- if nothing else -- DEFINITELY have personality.)

It didn't help that the cover art was particularly cheap and uninspired, even though it was a four-color printing job.

At the same time, her US label was pushing her fabulous version of the Four Season's song "The Night." Although it wasn't a hit, at least it was a very understandable choice. And Soft Cell had a UK hit with it many years later, so it was a radio-viable choice.*

In a couple of years, she recouped a bit with the US club hits "New Toy" and "It's You, Only You," but her radio hits were long gone.  

Should I blame Stiff records? Well, here's the single mix of "What Will I Do without You? " and you tell me.


*POSTSCRIPT: I recently discovered that Stiff UK had indeed chosen "The Night" as the third single but -- oddly -- withdrew it and released this instead with the same catalogue number. 

I Am Thin and Gorgeous ... Sad Nostalgia

I've never forgotten Absolutely Fabulous  ... the show had some of my favorite moments in the 1990s. And I need to thank Jimmy Page -- yes, that Jimmy Page -- for introducing me to it. (It's a long but not interesting story of a friend of a friend of a friend of his ex-wife who got us the tape from the UK long before it aired on US television). So thanks, Jimmy.

And I've never forgotten the Pet Shop Boys' joyous genetic splicing of the show's dialogue with one of their better dance instrumentals.

What I had forgotten was that Junior Vasquez decided in 1997 -- more than a bit past the show's prime -- that we needed a variant on what the Pet Shop Boys had done. To meet what he obviously perceived was a market need, he created "I Am Thin and Gorgeous." The sheer fun of the Pet Shop Boys' take was gone. In its stead, we get a tired children's' song riff at the beginning and some of the less memorable dialogue from the show popping up with massive echoes.

If I were to hear "I Am Thin and Gorgeous" in a club, which I never have, I suspect I'd think the DJ was looking at an Absolutely Fabulous DVD and the sound bled on top of a generic dance track. The Pet Shop Boys' piece worked so well because they treated the dialogue like rhythmic lyrics, not simply randomly chosen dialogue.

Junior has done good work. He will do good work again. "I Am Thin and Gorgeous" really didn't serve well as a dance piece or as a treat for followers of the show. But -- for completists out there -- here are the four  "I Am Thin and Gorgeous" mixes released on CD in the US in 1997.

Download the file and enjoy it. Well, enjoy it for what it is. Password is in the comments.

The Past of the Cabaret Futura

It was 1982. The new wave was waning; new romanticism was still in fresh flower. In New Orleans, despite a weird tax structure that penalized anyone who wanted to perform in the city, we still were lucky enough to get quite a few performers who were willing to trade money for the mystery and cachet that (they felt) New Orleans held.

Many nights of those days remain vivid. One I've been thinking about lately is the Cabaret Futura tour of the USA. The Cabaret Futura was a concept and a place in London, headed by Mr. Richard Strange. Knowing what I know now of the pain it is to bring a troupe onto the road, I'm even more amazed that the people involved in the Cabaret Futura managed to get it together and tour the USA. The main reason I went was to see The Passage , whose song "XOYO" I loved (and still do).

The surprise of the night, though, was Cabaret Futura head Richard Strange's set. I just he was just terrific. It was much more akin to performance art than a rock show and he pulled the attitude off beautifully. Richard Strange was also surprisingly funky for a British white boy (much more so than the sadness that resulted from Spandau Ballet after they told us that they didn't need that pressure on). 

I don't know what it says about how the show was received generally in the USA, but Richard Strange disbanded the Cabaret Futura after returning to the UK. 

For more details, you can read The Cabaret by Lisa Appignanesi. And for your listening pleasure, I give you the long out-of-print Richard Strange 12" single of "International Language," his closest-to-a-hit single. You can hear the funkiness on the b-side, "God is Science."

Download the file. Password in comments.

I Was Seduced by Disco at an Early Age ...

... unlike my third-degree-of-separation connection Jimmy Page, who was -- as he once claimed in a "Best of ..." LP commercial that ran incessantly on early cable -- "seduced by rock 'n' roll at an early age."



So today, I highlight an album that I knew of but hadn't actually listened to until recently, Stairway to Love by The Wonder Band.

While disco was known for its many remakes of well-known rock tunes -- a subject of another post on another day -- I remember articles in 1979 damning to hell the evil producers who dared to desecrate an authentic classic like "Stairway to Heaven" by reducing it to mere disco. In fact, I'm convinced it was this album that ignited the whole "Disco sucks" bandwagon that ugly people with no access to cocaine and easy sex jumped on.

In my world, "Stairway to Heaven" was the soundtrack for losers who sat around smoking pot and drinking six packs of Bud. Not my scene then, not my scene now.

The worst present I ever got was when I was in high school. I can't remember exactly what piece of sheet music I was carrying around, but a casual friend asked me if he could make a copy -- back in the days when copies were so blurry that you might as well have transcribed by hand. I said sure. In return, he gifted me with a handwritten vocal-and-guitar lead sheet for "Stairway to Heaven." All I could think was, "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" And that is why I never actively sought out Stairway to Love by The Wonder Band.

Now here we are almost 30 years later and I have a copy. And you know what? It's pretty darn tasteful -- and I mean "tasteful" in a good way. It's got lovely string arrangements that died the day that dance music discovered sampled strings via the Fairlight synthesizer. It's also got the late, great Gwen Guthrie on vocals. And it makes -- for me at least -- Led Zeppelin tolerable. (And since disco is just sped-up, classed-up blues, doesn't it make sense that Led Zeppelin would work as disco?)

It was produced by a trio that I know next-to-nothing about: Sílvio Tancredi, Israel Sanchez and Armando Noriega. According to the IMDB, Sílvio Tancredi did the soundtrack for 1978's Cheerleaders Beach Party (I've never seen it but I already know it's one of my favorite films). Israel "Issy" Sanchez is a member of the Dance Music Hall of Fame. Armando Noriega seems to have fallen off the earth around 1980 but he played saxophone on one of the best albums ever, Easy Going's Fear (on which  our friend Sílvio Tancredi also gets a thank you.)


So please enjoy this cleaned-up-as-best-I-could, direct-from-vinyl slice of disco goodness, Stairway to Love. P/W in comments.

Disco Circus / Plastic Paradise

Plastic Paradise ...  in some ways, an apt title. 

This 1981 LP follows on the heels of the first Disco Circus LP, which featured a major club hit called "Over and Over." That first one also featured a seven-minute cover of "In a Gadda Da Vida." 

And weirdly enough, not the only disco cover of that tune -- South Africa's Hot R.S. went bigger and did a  15-minute, side-long version. (There's also a Boney M. version that's nine minutes long and will encourage you to sit very still; their producer Frank Farian's mind was obviously somewhere else other than creating a record that encouraged dancing.)

Sadly, the second Disco Circus LP -- a creation of the Munich disco mainstay Jürgen Korduletsch -- picked up on the "cover" thread from the first album and not the "Over and Over" coolness factor. The LP kicks off OK with a song called "Are You Ready?" that desperately needs a longer mix, but it's got some goodness going with a bit of what made "Over and Over" so memorable. After that, the album devolves quickly into some very dull moments and closes out with uninspired covers of "Sunshine of Your Love" and "Gimme Some Lovin'." (That might have cool if it were a medley but -- no -- just one song, then another).

The title would have been quite apt if the whole album were an exposé of the disco lifestyle like D.C. LaRue's brilliant Confessions (go buy it). It's not. It's just a pack of eight medium-length songs -- too long for radio, too short for disco. And the music is a little too rote -- too, well, plastic.

The cover looks like someone stole Michel Polnareff's glasses and then dropped by Dress Barn for some very 1979 style accessories like candy hearts and generic pills (since it was -- after all -- 1981.)  Colorize and -- there you go -- instant time capsule.

Enjoy the rip (from CD). P/W in comments.