Five Songs 11/1/13

1. David Bowie, "The Man Who Sold the World" from The Man Who Sold the World (November 4, 1970)

* - Despite calling myself a Bowie fan, I had only ever heard the Nirvana cover of this song until this past week.

2. Misfits, "Skulls" from Walk Among Us (March 1982)

* - Special thanks to Amy Bolan for introducing me to the Misfits.

3. Katy Perry, "Unconditionally" from Prism (October 18, 2013)



* - Whatever criticism I may have about this song, it has nearly made me cry twice.
** - This is a lyric video, which is apparently very popular with artists now. When the real music video comes out for this single, I'll make sure to put it up.
*** - Special thanks to Amy Bolan for introducing me to this song.

4. Public Enemy, "Harder Than You Think (Featurecast Remix)" (August 1, 2012)



* - Special thanks to Justin Metz and Soquitcherbitchen for introducing me to this song.

5. RAC, "Super Mario Bros (RAC Mix)" from Nintendo vs Sega EP (April 25, 2008)



* - Special thanks to Justin Metz and Soquitcherbitchen for introducing me to this song.

Interpreting Modern Love: A Simulblog

The following blog post is a simulblog. Chad P of Political Jesus and I decided to both write our interpretation of the song "Modern Love" by David Bowie. His blog, also titled "Interpreting Modern Love: A Simulblog" can be read here. Any similarities between these posts are strictly the result of the same likemindedness that has fueled the friendship between Chad and myself. I will not see Chad's blog until both blogs are finished and published, and Chad will not see mine.

I was really excited when Chad suggested that we write a simulblog about the David Bowie song "Modern Love." First of all, I think we all have to agree that David Bowie is fantastic. Second of all, there's a sense of continuity in thought between the various works of David Bowie over the year, something of a constructive understanding of the universe. Third of all, I understand that Cavemen Go is only as good as the community that surrounds it, and a simulblog such as this is, in and of itself, an act of community.

Just by looking at the title "Modern Love," I get an impression of what this song means. David Bowie is reflecting on what he thinks love looks like here and now, or there and then, considering the song was released in 1983. (I was born in 1982, so I guess David Bowie is ruminating about what love looked like circa the time when my parents were constructing a family. I suppose I'm more connected to this question than I had originally imagined.) The song is qualified, however - the song is not titled "Love," but "Modern Love." It is love situated in a particular place and time. This, of course, makes me wonder where we find David Bowie's vantage point regarding "Modern Love." Does he consider himself part of this modernism? Or does he find himself as something of a pre-modernist or post-modernist?

I've written a couple of similar blogs under the column heading of "Pop Deconstruction," and I'm sure that there are those among you who would assume that I will lump David Bowie in the same camp with me, a postmodern kind of iconoclastic individual, simply because I love David Bowie and I want something in common with him. I believe that you would be correct with the assertion, but only superficially. I believe that I am motivated more by an understanding of the works of David Bowie than by my need to think of us as alike. Let me be a little less vague and say it straight: David Bowie's "Modern Love" is a description of the face of modern love from the critical and also self-critical perspective of a post-modern thinker.

Much of "Modern Love" describes a bland day-in/day-out habitual existence. The spoken first words say, "I know when to go out and when to stay in. Get things done." This line screams of the gospel of American Protestant productivity. (Is this an American song, then? David Bowie is British, but the album was recorded at the Power Station in New York in 1982.) Follow rules. Stay productive. Earn money. Give a tenth of it to the church, and show up for Sunday service. This is your duty to "God and man." But is there not also a hint of the first wave of the over-medicated American lifestyle? Bowie sings, "I catch the paper boy, but things don't really change. I'm standing in the wind, but I never wave bye-bye." The protagonist feels isolated and powerless, incapable of reaching out and making a real connection with another individual, passionless. He drinks too much coffee in the morning, his way of giving into the unbearable monotony of existence, buttressed by anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications, perhaps cholesterol medicine as well, and then whiskey and sleeping pills to prevent insomnia. Our protagonist is a zombie. "There's no sign of life."

The chorus of "Modern Love" is potentially heretical. It seems, at this point, like David Bowie himself is describing his response to this kind of thoughtless, passionless existence. He says that he will never fall for modern love, which "walks beside" him and "walks on by" him, his only purpose to get "to the church on time." The gospel of "Modern Love" is a gospel of unfeeling obedience in hope of some sort of salvation. All of life passes the modern individual by, because all this individual is concerned with is getting to church on time. The idea of life as getting to church on time seems to terrify Bowie. It makes him party, makes him revolt against this sheepish behavior which masquerades itself as the highest good for humankind. Regarding putting ones trust in sluggish humankind and the God that supports this type of living, Bowie continues to revolt. He despises confessions and he despises the religion that enslaves and essentially destroys the heart. His final verdict: He doesn't believe in modern love.

Much of the American Christian public would just ignore David Bowie as an atheist, an unbeliever. Is there truly no religion for Bowie? Is there truly no belief? I think many would rather focus on the fact that Bowie's beliefs are not orthodox, and ignore the truly fruitful question: What are Bowie's beliefs? Much of Bowie's works of the previous decade (the 1970s), showed a strong religious and almost messianic dimension. The song "Starman" from the album The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars paints a picture of some divine being who wants to enter into a relationship with humankind, who does not shun passion and sexuality, but incorporates it into the religious experience. The Jewish and Christian scriptures speak of a God who created humankind, but Bowie pushes us to prove that there is life on this planet. In songs like "Life on Mars?" from my personal favorite Bowie album, 1971's Hunky Dory the question, "Is there life on Mars?" should almost certainly be read, "Is there life on Earth, the kind of life that is worth saving?" The descriptions of sailors fighting in the dance hall and lawmen beating up the wrong people suggest that there is not.

If you ask me, a religious person myself, I think that Bowie's criticism of "Modern Love" is not impossible to incorporate into the life of a religious individual. One need not kill the religious impulse in order to be a postmodern, critical individual. Certainly, his criticism is harsh, making it difficult to bow, to follow doctrine, scripture and tradition, to be a loyal and obedient sheep. But is a sheep really a good model for religious individuals, particularly Christians, to follow? The creativity that Bowie admires and elevates on Hunky Dory offers a positive answer to the negative criticism of "Modern Love." Who could ever imagine a creator God without the power of creativity? Who could ever imagine a humankind cast in such a God's image without the power of creativity? David Bowie challenges us to look to individuals like Andy Warhol ("Andy Warhol") and Bob Dylan ("Song for Bob Dylan"), to reinvent ourselves and the world around us. And what better models could we take. If you do happen to get to church on time, perhaps you'll learn about an individual named Jesus who is called the Christ or the messiah, an individual who was anything but a sheep, whose creativity, for better or worse, changed the entire world.

What is the answer to "Modern Love"? Post-modern love, a love that shuns neither passion nor sexuality, that appears in different forms in different people, that values creativity, and thoughtful retooling of existence. Was it Jesus or P-Funk who once said, "The kingdom of heaven is within"? (Trick question. Some version of this statement has been said by both parties at various times.) If the highest command of "Modern Love" is to get to the church on time, then we have clearly missed the point. When you get to that church, you'll be the same passionless individual who is so incapable that he cannot even wave to the paperboy as he passes by, who can neither connect with a person nor a personal God. David Bowie's postmodern love prepares us for life-changing relationships, and casts us as interesting and original individuals, the "Golden Ones" of "Oh! You Pretty Things," rather than mindless sheep following a shepherd because we're not smart enough to do anything else. If the kingdom of heaven is within, then the tools of a strong heart and mind and the ability to enter into a relationship with the divine are how you get there.

As for me, I'm with Bowie. I don't believe in modern love either. I do believe that the song "Modern Love" is a fantastic and thoughtful song. I think it might be time for me to find out what Chad thinks. Come join me.

Labyrinth (1986)

Amy recently looked into the original response to Jim Henson's The Labyrinth. Siskel and Ebert gave it a pretty scathing review in 1986, reducing it to little more than a bad dream movie. Today, Labyrinth is lauded. It may not be Rocky Horror Picture Show, but its cult following is massive. Whatever the film's faults, the soundtrack is fantastic, Bowie is the perfect diva, Jennifer Connelly is surprisingly good, and Henson's muppets are the pinnacle of puppet work. Labyrinth is close to my heart, and I have a feeling that I'm not the only one who feels like this.

David Bowie Aladdin Sane (1973: RCA)

1. "Watch That Man" - 4:25
2. "Aladdin Sane (1913-1938-1972)" - 5:06
3. "Drive-In Saturday" - 4:29
4. "Panic in Detroit" - 4:25
5. "Cracked Actor" - 2:56
6. "Time" - 5:09
7. "The Prettiest Star" - 3:26
8. "Let's Spend the Night Together" - 3:03
9. "The Jean Genie" - 4:02
10. "Lady Grinning Soul" - 3:46

While The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars is often credited as the best Bowie album and the reason David Bowie is a household name, I think that the album's greatest strength lies elsewhere. While on the Ziggy Stardust tour, Bowie wrote an even better album titled Aladdin Sane (or as Bowie has called it, "Ziggy goes to America"). Songs like "Panic in Detroit" point to this origin of Aladdin Sane most obviously, but it has been suggested that all of the songs on the album have some location they're pointing to.

Aladdin Sane is a story of "A Lad Insane," a young man diving into the abyss of mental chaos, a theme that is propagated by a musical interplay between order and dischord. The fact that this album was written on tour and much of its mythology gives images of a touring celebrity, one can assume that, like the Pink Floyd album Wish You Were Here, Aladdin Sane points to the difficulties of sudden success and its effect on the human mind.

I think that limiting an album like Aladdin Sane to one theme can be dangerous. In fact, I think that Aladdin Sane could not have been successful if it didn't speak to the rest of humanity in some way, people who will never become celebrities but remain, like Bowie, freaks, the people on the outside. There are certainly themes of love, lust, loss and disdain present on Aladdin Sane, and who can't connect in some way to that.

Bowie is the foreigner in America who both belongs (is from England) and doesn't belong (is an all-out American rock star, and what rock star doesn't belong in America?). His religious zeal for a transcendent love that fully welcomes desire breaks through opposing forces - citizen/foreigner, gay/straight, majority/marginal - freeing all of us to come out (not out of the closet so much as out on the stage) as exactly who we are.

The experience of "A Lad Insane"/Aladdin Sane is never far from any of us.

David Bowie Hunky Dory (1972: RCA)

1. "Changes" - 3:37
2. "Oh! You Pretty Things" - 3:12
3. "Eight Line Poem" - 2:55
4. "Life on Mars?" - 3:53
5. "Kooks" - 2:53
6. "Quicksand" - 5:08
7. "Fill Your Heart" - 3:07
8. "Song for Bob Dylan" - 4:12
9. "Andy Warhol" - 3:56
10. "Queen Bitch" - 3:18
11. "The Bewlay Brothers" - 5:22

I think about a world to come where the books were found by the golden ones, written in pain, written in awe by a puzzled man who questioned, "What are we here for?" All the strangers came today and it looks as though they're here to stay.

Hunk Dory is possibly the most inaccurate album title I've ever encountered. It suggests that the 1972 David Bowie album was just OK. A better title for this album, which I consider one of the greatest artistic endeavors of the 20th century, would be Perfection, certainly not Hunky Dory, or Just OK.

The place that Hunky Dory occupies in my heart and mind is similar to the place the mysterious black monolith occupies in the hearts and minds of the once-vegetarian man-apes from the beginning of Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey. Using the language of science fiction and horror films ("the golden ones," "the nightmares came today," etc.) Bowie describes brilliant and artistic individuals, Bob Dylans and Andy Warhols, as aliens in thei world, powerful and passionate foreigners in our midst who face either crucifixion or coronation but nothing else. Cinema is the mechanism of the mind and memory plays out on the silver screen. I am forever captivated by this rumination on inspiration and the inspired.

Bowie preaches of a love that is both cosmic and erotic, a love that makes heroes out of herds, that celebrates all that is great about humanity, a love that is inseparable from peace, that looks down on the violent masses and sighs, "Oh man, look at those cavemen go." Is there life on Mars? Is that the real question we're forced to deal with? I don't think so. I think we need to ask whether there's life, intelligent life, that is, full and free life, on Earth. Even more: I think we need to prove that there's life on Earth. This is the legacy and the responsibility that Hunky Dory leaves us with, to prove that humans, the stewards of the planet Earth, are more than just OK.

Arts and Crafts: Record Wall Clock

When I lived in New York City I coveted a clock that I found in a little shop that was made out of an old Elton John record. By the time I saved up the money, the clock had been sold. I was told that these record clocks are easy to make, but I just didn't know where to start.

While sorting through our slowly growing record collection, Amy and I were broken-hearted to find that two of our records had been warped, my 7" single of the Prince song "Alphabet St.," and Amy's David Bowie LP, sides C and D of David Live. With little money, time and effort, Amy converted "Alphabet St." into a wall clock, and I'm about to tell you how.

Step 1: Acquire a Cheap Wall Clock

Just about any cheap clock will do. We bought this particular model at Target for $3.99. We're basically looking to rip this apart and cannibalize the hands and the motor.

Step 2: Acquire a Record

This is the difficult part. The record has to be something you want on your wall, a Prince record, for example, in my case. But the record also has to be something that you're willing to part with from your collection, that you will never listen to again because of the modifications. For me, this was easy: "Alphabet St." was already partially warped and completely unplayable. For you, it might not be so simple. Check out local garage sales and $1 record bins. Give a proper funeral for the selected record.

Step 3: Scavenge Parts from Cheap Wall Clock

Using a pocket knife, screwdriver, or any other convenient tool, jimmy the casing off of the wall clock that you have purchased.

 

Remove the hands and the motor from the clock. Gently pull the hands off of the clock face. Once you have done this, the motor will be disengaged from the back.

Step 4: Cook Your Record

As I mentioned before, my Prince record was already partially warped, so in order to make it aesthetically pleasing as a clock it was necessary to fully warp the record. If the record that you choose is still in fair condition and this is not the aesthetic you're aiming for, feel free to skip this step.

Preheat the stove to 300 degrees. Place a layer of aluminum foil on a pan and place the record on top. Place the record-on-a-pan into the stove and cook for somewhere near two minutes. Check on the record every few seconds. You should see the record warping. If you keep the record in the oven for too long it will begin to melt, adhering to whatever you have placed it on (hence the layer of aluminum foil). After two minutes, peel the record off with a spatula. The record should be fairly pliable and warm by now. If it has not taken the desired shape just yet, feel free to manipulate it with your hands until it looks the way you would like. Let the record set for a couple minutes. It shouldn't take long, maybe three to five minutes from the moment it is removed from the oven.

Step 5: Adhere Clock Parts to Record

Remember how you removed the hands and motor from the scrapper clock that you bought for this project? Well, simply do the exact opposite, placing the hands on the side of the record that you wish to be seen and the motor on the opposite side. The motor can be affixed to the back of the record best with rubber cement or epoxy. We didn't have any of that, so Amy attached it using a glue stick and a bunch of scotch tape.

Step 6: Affix Record Wall Clock to Wall / Bask in its Glory

If your motor isn't covered in scotch tape (Amy...) then you should be able to set the time using the dial on the back of the clock. If, like me, you are prohibited from using the dial, simply spin the hands of the clock until the right time is shown. As for the wall mount, I strung together a couple twist-ties and wrapped them around the base of the motor and it has served us well. I even slammed my hands really hard into the wall that the clock is mounted on and turned the fan on, the two things that dismount most of my wall-mounted art and paraphernalia, and it is still holding. With a little ingenuity and some cheap supplies perhaps you can find a better mounting method. The point is that you've now got your awesome record wall clock on your wall and the only thing to do now is to sit directly across from it and watch your life tick away.

The Shirtcast #28 - Justin Tiemeyer

Friend of the show, Justin Tiemeyer hops up to the decks to play an eclectic selection for The Shirtcast. Please enjoy and check out Justin's blog 'Cavemen Go' for frequent, mind-expanding posts.

http://cavemengo.blogspot.com/

MGMT - Time to Pretend
Roxette - The Look
Meat Puppets - Climbing
David Bowie - Kooks
Queens of the Stone Age - Song for the Dead
Talking Heads - Road to Nowhere
The Cars - I'm Not the One
Led Zeppelin - Since I've Been Loving You
Tears for Fears - Woman in Chains
Portishead - Small

lgsproductions.com

Click on the triangle below to listen to my podcast mix (you may recognize it as a variation on my Bottomless mix):



Or listen to The Shirtcast at the PodOmatic home here.

Celebrity Audobon: David Bowie

A guide to shape-shifting celebrities and the bird forms they are known to transform into.

David Bowie transformed into a snowy owl in the 1986 film Labyrinth, and into a bald eagle on a 2006 episode of the television program Venture Bros. titled "Showdown at Cremation Creek (Part II)."

Of Tiptoes: A Mix By Justin Tiemeyer

Album art courtesy of Becky Prevette and Amy Bolan.

15 Albums From Which A Justin Tiemeyer Can Be Constructed

(In chronological order)

1. Queen - Greatest Hits (1981, 1991)

Queen is the first because I can't remember the name of the Monkees tape we always listened to in my parents' station wagon. I remember being vexed in middle school when this guy named Austin asked me who my favorite band was and I had no answer. Some time later I discovered a passion for Queen, but when I hunted Austin down to tell him Queen is my favorite band he seemed unimpressed, as if he had moved on from that momentary conversation months earlier. Dick...

2. Aerosmith - Nine Lives (1997)

My best friend Jared and I got into Aerosmith fairly heavily because his older brother Paul was really into them. We just ate up anything Aerosmith at a fairly young age, but it wasn't until 1997 that we witnessed the release of brand new Aerosmith material for the first time during our obsession. We listened to Nine Lives day and night, each of us having bought it early on and thus possessing the CD with the naughty pictures all over it. The first time I ever traveled very far from home was with Jared and his family on a trip down to Gulf Shores, Alabama, and we listened to Nine Lives on our Discmans nearly the whole trip.

3. Pink Floyd - The Wall (1979)

When I was in high school I was convinced that I was the youngest person on the planet to both know as much as I did about Pink Floyd and to never have done any sort of drug while exploring the Floyd catalog. I remember listening to The Wall over and over again in my car, explaining the nuances of the album to anyone sitting next to me in my little Honda CRX. You see, it's about the war, but it's also about music, and more than that, it's about one man's struggle with emotional events as expressed by war metaphors in music.

4. Led Zeppelin - Houses of the Holy (1973)

 
This one time I went to Vertigo Records with my good friend Elliot Mayo, now world-famous DJ Elijah. I wasn't into looking at the electronic records just yet, but I did enjoy looking for cool Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin t-shirts. When I came across the Houses of the Holy t-shirt, I was faced with a dilemma: on the one hand, this was one of the most important albums I've ever listened to - it had changed me, but on the other hand, it was a t-shirt populated with naked children and I was still in high school. In the end I saved my money. I probably bought some issues of Uncanny X-Men with it. This would have been either during the Onslaught or Operation: Zero Tolerance days.

5. Smashing Pumpkins - Adore (1998)

Any time before my senior year of high school this album would have sounded much too dark for me. But when a girl I thought I was in love with began dating a good friend of mine I found myself really struggling with a kind of darkness that made this album accessible. I've since found several other boys who claim Adore to be their favorite album, and who can cite similar dark periods of life that the album helped them through. I would never again underestimate the healing power of a really sad album.

6. Red Hot Chili Peppers - By The Way (2002)

Because my brother and I drove around everywhere singing this album together we joined forces and created a band called Craig. We focused mainly on playing classic rock music and writing solid, interesting songs. Because we weren't trying to mimic either Green Day or Blink 182 we were different from all the other bands in the area. When I was kicked out of the band they changed the named to Craig and the Cowboys, which made me conclude that I am the negation of Cowboys.

7. Ryan Adams - Gold (2001)

I don't know what had happened, but I remember driving in my GMC Jimmy and crying while listening to this album. I dried my eyes and met Brian Vandenberg at a coffee shop where we were going to hear our mutual friend Matt play some music. Matt ended up writing a novel in a very Dickensian fashion, so I'm sure he'd be fairly happy to be called "Our Mutual Friend."

8. Zwan - Mary Star of the Sea (2003)

Has Billy Corgan ever sounded as happy, positive and enlightened as he did on this album? Has he ever released a record that comes with fun rainbow guitar stickers that I've found on my old belongings in my parents' basement from time to time? No. And I fear it will never happen again.

9. The Beatles - Abbey Road (1969)

Abbey Road wasn't the first album that flowed from one track to the next. According to Brian Wilson, that was Rubber Soul. According to the rest of the world, Wilson's band The Beach Boys recorded the second real album: Pet Sounds. Abbey Road, however, was the pinnacle of album-making. It never sounded so good until then and it never sounded so good afterward. Let's throw all of that away. The fact of the matter is that I can't imagine that a human could ever fall in love without ever hearing the George Harrisonsong "Something" from this album. That's the more important impact of this album.

10. David Bowie - Young Americans (1975)

Young Americans is by far not the best album put out by David Bowie, but it is the only album I owned on cassette during the lonely year in Toledo in which I couldn't get the car CD player to work. We bonded through struggle much like Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves did in Speed.

11. Neil Young - Harvest (1972)

I listened to this album enough times that I considered writing a book of short stories, one for each track on the album. The ideas were pretty interesting, but I was not very good at finishing things that I started back then. I didn't have any deadlines, so I never got anything done.

12. Prince and the Revolution - Parade (1986)

No need for an anecdote. It's simply the best.

13. Radiohead - In Rainbows (2007)

Becky, Elliot and I were walking around Manhattan, and I had this melody stuck in my head. It was Radiohead's "Reckoner." I didn't know any of the words. I just kept humming this melody. Suddenly, the sound was coming at me from behind. I looked at the storefronts and none of the stores were open. None of them were pumping Radiohead out of their speakers. None of them even had speakers. I was convinced for some time that Thom Yorke himself was walking several paces behind us singing this song to himself until a car pulled away and the music was gone.

14. Tom Petty - Wildflowers (1994)

You're just a poor boy along way from home
You're just a poor boy a long way from home

15. Arcade Fire - Funeral (2004)

I didn't fall in love with Arcade Fire because David Bowie loved them first, but it certainly didn't hurt. But seriously, how cool was it when David Bowie and Arcade Fire performed "Wake Up" together on VH1's Fashion Rocks. I don't know whether I was more excited about that or the Where the Wild Things Are trailer with the same song. Oooh.

Happy Mick Ronson's Birthday!

Around here we honor the folk who made our world a better place to live in. If Mick Ronson never touched a guitar I'd be a different person today. That's a fact.

Make Way For the Homo Superior

Here's an excerpt from a pretty interesting article that analyzes the works of David Bowie as if they are a religious text comparable to other religious texts.

Like Christ, Ziggy spreads a radical gospel of love. But while Christ admonishes his followers to abandon the nasty, brutish logic of the Mosaic world view (“eye for eye, and tooth for tooth”) and emulate his unconditional, turn-the-other-cheek love for all mankind (a message so revolutionary it convinces the apostle John that God, in a word, is love), Ziggy preaches a gospel of transcendental eros. “Let all the children boogie,” he decrees, in “Starman,” using a mothballed hippie verb that, back in the day, was a euphemism for doing the nasty.

In Ziggy’s erotic beatitude, the solitary self is consumed by an overmastering “idiot love”—a transport of sexual rapture that obliterates the boundaries of the conscious ego and “spark[s] the fusion,” in the song “Soul Love,” with…uh…the Cosmic Whatever. Is Ziggy’s space-hippie sermonizing about transcending adolescent alienation? Or hieing your astral ass off a dying planet through some orgasm-fueled transport of rapture? Bowie’s starman, a prophet who thinks with his crotch, isn’t big on specifics. All he knows is that “the church of man, love, is such a holy place to be,” a proverb that manages the neat trick of crossing eros with agape, reconciling them in the profane sacrament of soul love (“Moonage Daydream”).

Read the whole article here.

Jim Henson Character Breakdown

Bottomless: A Mix By Justin Tiemeyer

Album art courtesy of Fiona Maier.

The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain "Life on Mars?" (David Bowie Cover)

The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain, "Life on Mars?" (David Bowie) from Live in London #1 (2008: UOGB)