So why is that even though I only owned two Kate Bush singles (the first two) and none of her albums did I have this great big poster of her on my bedroom wall?
Silly question really.
I assume this must have gone up around 1979-80. My walls at the time were also decorated with pictures of Pauline Murray, Siouxsie Sioux, and Debbie Harry but those were mostly torn out of magazines and the NME. I would love to have had a big poster of Ms. Murray in particular on the wall but they didn’t make those. Somehow I don’t think she would have posed in a leotard though.
It’s not easy being a teenage boy, especially when the hormones kick in and you start to realize that girls aren’t, in fact, icky, but lovely creatures you want to get to know better. It’s even worse when, like me, you’re the only male living with two women which makes you more than usually coy and embarrassed about your natural masculine instincts. My mother could be a real piss-taker if she found out I fancied someone on the telly and I would only steal furtive glances at Page Three or Titbits for fear of being caught ogling some boobs or bottoms. So graduating from Bruce Lee to putting a woman on my bedroom wall was a big step, but I made it when I stuck up this poster of Marilyn Monroe over the foot of my bed.
But it wasn’t because I really fancied Marilyn — though I wouldn’t kick her out of bed if she farted — in the 1970s there was a lot of nostalgia for old Hollywood glamour (there was nostalgia for a lot of things in the 70s, a sign of how bad things were in the present) so it was almost compulsory to have a picture of her or Humphrey Bogart or James Dean on your wall — usually bought from Athena — though the fact that you can see right up her skirt must have influenced me as well. Dusky brunettes like Raquel Welch were more my cup of tea but I think the nostalgic element of Marilyn made her a “safer” choice, despite her obvious va-va-voom qualities in that picture being a vintage icon made her seem less raunchy and a little more innocent than Raquel Welch who was still a potent sex symbol in the 70s and posed for Playboy back then. Putting Marilyn on the wall was like sticking up the Mona Lisa, she was a classic, that Playboy I had to keep in my cupboard under a pile of comics.
Another sex symbol of the 1970s who didn’t end up on my bedroom wall either was Farrah Fawcett-Majors (her name at the time which I still call her) whose now-iconic poster apparently sold 12 million copies which means I was about the only bloke in the world who didn’t have her on his wall. That’s because I just wasn’t into that all-American, cheerleader type, all big blonde hair and big dazzling teeth. I also never put up that poster of a tennis player scratching her bum. Why on earth was that so popular back then?
I saw Bat For Lashes live last Thursday and she/they were almost supernaturally good, I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a concert more. Natasha Khan is even more beautiful in real life, has an incredible voice, writes amazing songs and oozes charm and charisma, but I think the thing I liked the most about her (well, the second most) was how much she seemed to be enjoying herself. For someone who often makes such dark and mournful records she rarely stopped smiling and danced around like a happy schoolgirl in her bedroom half the time. It adds a whole extra layer of enjoyment to a concert if the person on stage is having as much fun as you are.
One phenomenon I’ve noticed at concerts lately is how many people are taking pictures. Every time Natasha came over to our side of the stage almost everyone around me held up a cellphone or digital camera and started snapping away. It’s a bit annoying to be trying to concentrate on a show when there are all these little illuminated screens glowing all around you. I preferred it when people held up cigarette lighters or just their fists. There were a lot of people videoing the show too, which is even more irritating but at least it meant I could go to YouTube the next day and relive the actual concert I’d just seen. Like this clip of my favourite moment, a thunderous version of “What’s A Girl To Do?” filmed by what looks like the girl who was standing right in front of me.
The future used to look like such a brilliant place to live when I was a kid, all sleek and shiny surfaces, rockets, hover cars, robots and talking computers. But now that we’re actually living in what I considered “the future” back then — 2001 was eight years ago — it doesn’t seem half as exciting and the long-term outlook is even a bit grim. Given the choice I think I’d rather live in the future of Gerry Anderson‘s 1970 tv series “UFO” which had all the usual science fiction gizmos and vehicles but was also a very hip and groovy-looking world of mod interiors and futuristic babes in cat suits and silver mini skirts, all set to a brilliant theme tune.
I was a big fan of the show when it was first broadcast — I even made my own SHADO badge out of cardboard — but as I was only 8 at the time I was more interested in the Interceptors and Ed Straker’s car than all the space age dolly birds lounging around on modular furniture. But even I took notice of the girls stationed on the Moonbase who wore tight sparkly uniforms and purple wigs (the function of which has never been explained but who cares), especially Lt. Gay Ellis played by the lovely Gabrielle Drake* whose forceful command of “Interceptors! Immediate launch!” in that posh Head Girl voice of hers conjures up all sorts of, um, thoughts. Innocent though I was, I definitely had the feeling that there was more going on in the show than I understood (it had “adult” themes — ooooh) and scenes like this left a mark on my impressionable young mind.
Unfortunately we don’t have this sexy future to look forward to as it’s been and gone — “UFO” was set in 1980 which, far as I remember, didn’t look anything like that. Though with all the silver outfits and purple hair I like to think Gerry Anderson predicted the look of both Glam Rock and Punk.
*Gabrielle, as you may or may not know, was the older sister of mopey folkie Nick Drake — though in that outfit she looks more like David Bowie’s sister — and there’s a duet between the two of them on the “Family Tree” collection of Drake’s early home recordings which is rather lovely. Though I can’t help but picture her singing this wearing a purple wig.
I had hoped to post some more this week but I’ve had a miserable bloody week at work which left me too tired and stressed for that. As they say in the movies “I’m getting too old for this shit.”
This makes me feel a whole lot better though.
*It’s the 4th of July holiday here on Saturday so the weekend is starting on Thursday this week. Not a day too soon if you ask me.
With its poetry reciting and meaningful stares this clip from Jean-Luc Godard’s “Alphaville” is like a parody of pretentious European cinema. But it’s still utterly beautiful and Anna Karina is so lovely I think I could watch a film of her reading a Eurostar timetable.
As a bonus here she is again looking like every indie boys dream girlfriend in “Vivre Sa Vie”. We never had no birds like that down my local snooker club.
The sentimental musings of an ageing expat in words, music, and pictures. Mp3 files are up for a limited time so drink them while they're hot.
Contact me: lee at londonlee dot com
