The Go-Go's' 1990 "One-Off" Reunion That Refused To Die AKA Belinda Slides Back Into Her Cozy, Chaotic Cocoon

The Rock and Roll Hall of Whuh?

Whenever I hear someone complain about the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, I'm inclined to recycle the line I typically use regarding the Oscars: "Whenever I'm tempted to complain about the Oscars, I just look at the Grammys."

Because for me, at least the other two are somewhere in the ballpark, whereas the Grammys have always just seemed inscrutably random. But not everyone's so sanguine about the situation. About fifteen years ago, the comments section of every single article on Rolling Stone's website that even tangentially mentioned the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was littered with statements along the lines of "The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is a complete joke!!! Look at all the great acts that aren't in!!" And I'd think to myself, "Yeah!" And then these anonymous internet arbiters of taste would go on to explain that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was a "joke" due to its not yet having inducted ... Rush, Kiss, Chicago, Yes, or Journey. Uh ... not exactly the big exclusions I'd had in mind. I'd been thinking more along the lines of, say, Tom Waits, Roxy Music, T. Rex, or Todd Rundgren. Well, those four are all in now (as are the other five I mentioned), so ... thanks a lot, Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, you've robbed me of my God-given right to complain about you.

The thing is, people like to call the Hall of Fame a "joke," but everyone has had their own separate reasons as to why it is a joke. You've got your "classic rock" fans perturbed by the absence of Styx, Kansas, Toto, and REO Speedwagon, and then you've got your '80s alternative scenesters griping about the absence of Black Flag, the Replacements, the Pixies, and Sonic Youth, and each cluster would surely refer to the other cluster's preferences as a "joke." So which joke is it? It can't be a joke both ways, eh? Then you've got the people whose biggest problem with the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is simply its name. "Why are Madonna and Whitney Houston in while Iron Maiden and Judas Priest aren't? What a joke!" Come on guys, we all understand it's basically the Pop Music Hall of Fame, but with a cooler name. Go back to your Magic: The Gathering tournament.

But while I caught the Go-Go's bug around ten years ago, and would now defend their greatness even at the risk of lethal harm, I never quite felt they were an egregious exclusion from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. To put it simply, their discography is a little brief. Three albums from the original run, plus a reunion album from 2001, and a few other stray tracks here and there? I mean, bands like Iron Maiden and Judas Priest have accrued these monolithic, bottomless discographies of, you know, 20 to 30 albums, and sure, most people probably couldn't name any of the albums they've released since the '80s, but what I'm saying is, there are groups out there that have left behind some serious recording catalogs. I'm just not sure the Go-Go's' peak was long enough to merit that same level of outrage.

Oh sure, but what about the Stooges (three albums), or the Sex Pistols (one measly album)? Uh huh. Not that I myself prefer those acts to the Go-Go's, but I don't think I'm going out on a limb here by stating that the Stooges and the Sex Pistols, despite their equally truncated discographies, were more musically influential (and certainly more threatening to the status quo) than the Go-Go's were. In fact, putting on my All Music Guide hat for a moment, I feel like I could rattle off the names of at least ten more acts from the punk/new wave era whom I would say, as a more impartial observer, have proven to be more "musically influential" than the Go-Go's were, and yet have hardly even been mentioned as potential Hall of Fame inductees: the Jam, the Buzzcocks, Wire, the Fall, the Specials, Madness, Joe Jackson, Squeeze, the Soft Boys, XTC ... am I at ten yet? Of course, all of these bands were British, and none of them had a massive US #1 album. I'm not saying that I personally like any one of those artists more than I like the Go-Go's. That's not the point. I am someone who is able to differentiate between my own affection for a band and my sense of where that band might rank in the "I can't believe they're not in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame!" outrage hierarchy. Long story short: I was not appalled by the Go-Go's' exclusion.

However, the Go-Go's themselves apparently were. They kept mentioning it in interviews. They kept talking about how it was so freaking obvious that they should have already been inducted that there must have been a secret Skull-and-Bones style conspiracy to keep them out. The All Music Guide had this to say about their recent Showtime documentary: "There's a recent subcategory of music documentary best described as 'Our case for induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame,' and this dash through the history of the Go-Go's clearly falls into that bucket." I guess the Broadway musical wasn't enough of an honor? As a fan of the highest order, I wasn't eager to say it, but ... I'm not sure this was the best look. I might have suggested they gain a little more outside perspective, or perhaps simply not care so ... transparently. (A quick message from Little Earl to every band that's eligible for the Hall of Fame but is not yet in it: as far as I can tell, whether you're in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame or not has absolutely no bearing on the quality, value, or importance of your music.) I also began to wonder if they were playing up the "feminism" angle of their story a little too heavily, now that "the kids these days" are more into that sort of thing. Some of the band members had even suggested they were being kept out of the Hall due to sexism. Yeah, I dunno, I think it probably had more to do with their meager three-album discography, and the fact that only one of the albums within it is generally considered "classic," and not their gender, but hey, that's just me.

I also have yet to be convinced that the lack of female artists in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ranks terribly high on the list of modern society's civil rights injustices, just as I could never get too wrapped up in the whole #OscarsSoWhite debate. I mean ... it's the Oscars. Who thinks the Oscars are actually important? (I guess #GrammysSoWhite could have never gained much traction because nobody thinks the Grammys are important.) When I would read articles stating that the Go-Go's should be inducted into the Hall of Fame because, that way, the Hall could instantly add five more women into the Hall of Fame ... like, isn't that a little patronizing? Isn't the whole point that they shouldn't be inducted because of their gender per se, but because they made passionate, heartfelt, playful, well-crafted music and didn't give a fuck about what other people thought of them? Frankly, what I personally love about the Go-Go's isn't so much that they were the first all-female band to suddenly score a #1 album, but that they were the first trash-bag-and-safety-pin-festooned L.A. punk band to suddenly score a #1 album. To me, that's the story. And the Go-Go's are only half the story anyway, because you've got to factor in the unfettered Yuppie zaniness of Belinda's late '80s solo career. Of course, the other four members of the band ... uh ... don't really see that as part of the story.

Well, at any rate, they're in now! What, you expected me to complain? The nice thing is, they're all still alive - something of a minor miracle, given their various substance abuse "adventures," the general unpredictability of human health after the age of 60, and the fact that they are a band of five, and that many bands of their generation, such as the Pretenders, the Cars, Devo, or the B-52's, can no longer perform as their original lineup. Not to mention, the five of them are currently getting along well enough to attend the damn ceremony together (something that was not true even four years ago). I just hope this means they can finally spend their time talking about something else.

But the thing is, the Go-Go's have already spent 30 years talking about the same old things anyway, which I suppose is what happens when a group's heyday only consisted of a blindingly bright four-year supernova, when only the lead singer ever managed to genuinely establish an identity for herself outside the group, and when the other not-so-famous members all need to make a living somehow and yet don't feel like releasing too much more new music under the Go-Go's umbrella. This is probably something only an obsessive fan who has watched way too many post-1980s Go-Go's YouTube clips would even gripe about, but after a while, every interview starts to sound the same and every version of "We Got the Beat" simply bleeds into the others. And given that, aside from "Head Over Heels," they've essentially retired Talk Show from their concert setlist, that's two albums of material they've been milking dry for 30 years now. Just imagine what life must be like for a one hit wonder.

Perhaps the most amusing aspect, then, of revisiting the Go-Go's' 1990 reunion (ostensibly the intended subject of this post), is to observe how much of a big freaking deal both the band themselves and the media in general made of it, without anyone involved knowing, of course, that this "reunion" would last five times longer than their original recording career did.

So. While Belinda had been busy running around indulging in mermaid cosplay with the Beach Boys, convincing George Harrison to play on her album almost as a dare, unexpectedly flirting with Sammy Davis, Jr. and Dave Mustaine, and generally ascending to her throne as the undisputed Queen of Yuppie Rock, what the hell had the other former Go-Go's been up to? It's sort of like asking what Michael Collins was up to while the other two astronauts were busy walking on the moon: far from your first question, but at some point, it probably crosses your mind.

In addition to hitching her wagon to the Belinda solo train, Charlotte formed the Graces, which included a young Meredith Brooks (of future "Bitch" fame - and I mean that in the nicest way), although their lone 1989 album didn't set the charts on fire. At some point, she also married Jeff McDonald of Redd Kross. But basically, yeah, she hitched her wagon to the Belinda solo train.

Jane, whom astute readers may recall, actually left the Go-Go's to try her hand at a solo career before the band even officially broke up and stuff, released Jane Wiedlin in 1985 and Fur in 1988, which didn't exactly do Belinda-type numbers either, but her single "Rush Hour" certainly did, hitting #9 in the U.S. and #12 in the U.K. Many are the internet comments I've read expressing great fondness for "Rush Hour," but I don't recall hearing it back in 1988, and it hasn't quite grown on me much since I first heard it roughly ten years ago. Although AMG's Stewart Mason writes that "Jane Wiedlin's 1985 solo debut is probably the best solo album by any ex-member of the Go-Go's" and that "the singles 'Modern Romance' and 'Blue Kiss' really should have been hits (they're certainly better than most of Belinda Carlisle's solo work)," I mean ... I dunno ... I guess I'm just a Carlisle-ophile. For me, listening to Jane Wiedlin solo material is like eating roasted garlic all by itself. Roasted garlic is good in stuff. Adding roasted garlic to a soup? Mmmmm. But eating roasted garlic all by itself? Sure, some people might enjoy that. Probably not most people.

Kathy attempted to form a band called the World's Cutest Killers with Kelly Johnson, former guitarist of Girlschool (AKA "the Go-Go's' New Wave of British Heavy Metal counterparts"), but sadly neither it, nor a few other fledgling bands, ever got off the ground.

Gina formed the gloriously-named House of Schock with Vance DeGeneres, older brother of Ellen (!), but if you're wondering how well their lone album did, all I need to tell you is that House of Schock doesn't even have its own Wikipedia page. Hey, not every band has a Phil Collins in them, all right?

In summary: Charlotte was doing fine, Jane wasn't doing as well as she'd hoped to be doing but could have been doing worse (and let's not forget Clue and Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure), and Kathy and Gina, who were adamantly against the band breaking up to begin with, found their concerns solidly confirmed. I feel like this should put Belinda's griping about stuff like Runaway Horses "only" going gold into a little perspective.

But alas, as we all know, despite radiating a surface aura of nonstop success, Belinda felt like shit virtually the entire time, and she definitely felt like shit at the dawn of the '90s, particularly after becoming reacquainted with her old powdery friend in Ibiza. For the first time in five years, perhaps Belinda wasn't quite feeling the solo "magic." Funny how, back in 1985, the band must have seemed like a stifling, suffocating force, but now, given the pressures of maintaining her worldwide solo stardom, a resurgent coke habit, an eating disorder or two, and her marriage to her ever-loyal husband now revolving around a certain degree of untruth ... perhaps reverting back to the warm and protective cocoon of the Go-Go's didn't seem quite so stifling and suffocating after all! From Lips Unsealed:

On the bright side, I crossed paths with Gina one day. After a fun catch-up, the two of us on a whim arranged for a reunion with the other Go-Go's. Without telling anyone, we met for dinner at an Italian restaurant in West Hollywood. It was the first time the five of us had been together since Jane left and our subsequent breakup. All of us were nervous. Jane held up her palms and said, "They're sweaty!"

We agreed to one ground rule: none of us would say anything that would piss off someone else. Then we had a great time. We reminisced about the crazy times we'd had in the early days, offered apologies for things said in the latter days, worked through some hard feelings, and, as we told a local reporter who got wind of the reunion, we realized "even the bad times we've gone through didn't seem so bad."

I left dinner appreciating the special camaraderie the five of us shared - and that it had survived. But all was not rosy. As I later confessed to Morgan, I felt uncomfortable about having a successful solo career when some of the other girls were struggling in their endeavors. While Jane and Charlotte were both working on albums, Gina's label had dropped her and Kathy didn't have a deal.

I realized everyone might benefit from a Go-Go's reunion. I mentioned it to my manager, Danny Goldberg, who had a lengthy background as a political activist ... He loved the idea of a Go-Go's reunion. But it sat a few months until Danny found the right event, a fund-raiser Jane Fonda was spearheading for California's environmental ballot initiative. It sounded good to me. I called the girls. Everyone was game.

In January, we announced our reunion show at a press conference with Jane Fonda.

"I think we have about ten years, and if we don't do it in ten years, we're in big trouble," she says? Well. Good thing we solved the world's environmental crisis back in 2000, eh?

Somehow environmentalism morphed into anti-fur activism, an issue one certainly doesn't hear quite as much about these days, possibly because most furry animals are nearing extinction anyway. The band posed "naked" with a poster declaring "I'd rather Go-Go naked than wear fur!" Funny funny.

Sadly, those expecting actual nudity would have to wait another 10 years for Belinda's appearance in Playboy.

Two and a half months later, we got together for rehearsals at SIR, where I was also in rehearsals for my Runaway Horses tour. I felt self-conscious running back and forth between rehearsals and maybe some resentment from the other girls, who I sensed - and it could have been me being overly sensitive - looked at me as Miss High and Mighty with her rock band, getting ready for her world tour. At the end of the day, I was feeling like I should apologize.

You owe them nothing, Belinda, nothing!

But I was able to set that aside and enjoy stepping back into the Go-Go's. It wasn't hard for me to switch gears. The band was part of my DNA. On March 27, we played a surprise warm-up show as the KLAMMS at the Whiskey, a stage that was like a second home in our punk days. We still looked like an odd collection: Jane wore short-shorts, Kathy was in a polka-dot negligee, Charlotte radiated laid-back L.A. rock chic in a long, embroidered shirt, Gina had on her trademark jeans and T-shirt, and I was in a fancy black gown that a girlfriend of mine laughingly said made me look like I had dressed to go to Harry's Bar in London.

If the dress she's describing is the one that she appears to be wearing in almost every single Go-Go's clip from 1990, I'm inclined to describe it more as her "Disney princess" look, but fair enough.

The fun we had carried over into the next night at the Universal Amphitheater when we performed a set of the band's hits to a crowd of L.A. politicos and celebrities that included Jodie Foster, Rob Lowe, John McEnroe and Tatum O'Neal, and Sandra Bernhard. Afterward, all of us were agreeable to doing more shows and maybe even a tour later in the year when IRS released a greatest hits package.

Since the tales of drug abuse and acrimony had already been told in at least part of the press, the Go-Go's two-month reunion tour in November and December 1990 gave us a chance to focus on the thing that mattered most: the impressive collection of music we had put together before calling it quits six years earlier. With a new greatest-hits package that included a snappy remix of "Cool Jerk," plus a video featuring the five of us looking like a million bucks, everyone agreed we could make a point about our contribution to the eighties. If we also made a profit, no one would complain.

Another version of "Cool Jerk"? Hey, why not? As Belinda hints at, I.R.S. decided to take advantage of the reunion to put out a Go-Go's greatest hits album, whether the band wanted one out or not, so a remake of "Cool Jerk" was included as the *cough* new product. Of all the Go-Go's' 438 different versions of "Cool Jerk" (the early demo featured on Return to the Valley of the Go-Go's, the proper studio version released on Vacation, various live versions), I think I'm into this one the most, despite it sounding like their attempt to be the B-52's circa Cosmic Thing. The issue I've always had with the Go-Go's' perennial obsession with covering "Cool Jerk" is that, while it certainly stems from the right era (the Capitols' original came out in 1966), it lacks the angst and turmoil of, say, "Remember (Walking in the Sand)." It's the kind of song a casual Go-Go's fan might think the Go-Go's would cover. Like John Lennon with "Across the Universe," apparently the group kept hoping that just one more version would finally be the "right" one.

At any rate, the band milked their 1990 reunion for all it was worth, and trying to view every YouTube clip from this period kind of feels like swatting at flies in a swamp, but allow me to share a few highlights. Notice how, at the 2:00 mark during this interview for E!, while Kathy observes, with touching sincerity, that "the songs really held up over all this time, you know, it wasn't like I felt like we were doing something old, it felt just as current today," Belinda blatantly fiddles with the neckline of her dress for at least ten consecutive seconds, sneakily letting the world know that, yes indeed, "bad" Belinda was back. And get a load of this line: "Their very public break-up and subsequent solo careers have given them a very grounded perspective for this 'Go-Go' a-round." Oy.

Plus, every time Belinda tries to say something serious during one of these interviews, someone else in the band quickly makes fun of her. For example:

Belinda: Gandhi said, um ...

Gina: [giggles]

Belinda: I know, I'm just saying I thought it was a really good quote ...

Kathy: She can quote Gandhi if she wants.

Gina: [continues to giggle]

Belinda: I know, I'm not trying to be intellectual but he said, "The greatness of a nation can be judged by the way it treats its animals" ...

Also, who can forget this Bugle Boy commercial that apparently aired during Super Bowl XXV?

Sorry Bills, the Go-Go's must have jinxed you.

More important, having already come to terms on past disagreements, we felt like we could get along, and for the most part we did. We preceded a kickoff appearance on David Letterman's late-night talk show with a heavy-duty shopping spree in New York City that reminded me of the fun we used to have together. Onstage, I had a blast singing the old songs and looking to either side and seeing Gina and Kathy in sync and watching Jane and Charlotte trade riffs.

Belinda also apparently had a blast indulging in the kind of naughty stage banter that probably wouldn't have flown at her solo concerts, particularly when introducing the band's re-worked acoustic version of Talk Show's somewhat overlooked closing track "Mercenary," one riveting version of which appears on Return to the Valley of the Go-Go's. "This next song ... is about a girl who likes to be mean ... I know I like to be mean," she proclaims to immediate applause (sadly the version on Return to the Valley doesn't feature the comment added at other shows, "Charlotte likes to spank her boyfriend"). It should also be mentioned that, whether the band liked it or not, by December of 1990, Belinda's voice was kind of hoarse and shredded and she'd probably had one gin and tonic too many, which might either add or detract a little something, depending on your point of view. Toward the end of "Mercenary," for instance, she really lets it rip like she rarely has before or since, perhaps the cover of being in her "old" band providing her the freedom to let her sound as fucked up as she probably felt.

Occasionally the old jealousies reared their head. The girls didn't like it when we pulled up to one venue and the marquee read "Belinda Carlisle and the Go-Go's." Several hotels also gave me a larger room than the others even after we made sure to tell them everyone in the band was equal. I even forced a couple of the girls to see my room before they checked into theirs so they knew I wasn't creating the problem. After a few more times, though, I got fed up with the carping and complaining and had a Neely O'Hara-type moment when I snapped, "I can't help it if I'm a bigger star than you!"

That's the spirit. (I guess if I'd seen Valley of the Dolls instead of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, I would have picked up on Belinda's "Neely O'Hara" reference, but I had to look it up.)

Ironically, I kept myself on the road as much as possible. Without consciously realizing it, I was running from my life. In mid-December, though, the Go-Go's tour ended and I returned home, which meant either facing hard truths about my behavior or lying to Morgan.

I chose the latter.

Did we expect anything less?

That Time Belinda Partied In Ibiza And Swiftly Resumed Her Coke Consumption

Four years. That's a pretty nice chunk of time. We're talking the span of an entire U.S. presidential term, or the length between World Cups or Olympic Games (uh ... usually). One earns a high school degree in four years, or (in theory, at least) a college degree. I guess what I'm saying is, a coke addict going four years without sniffing coke - not even once? That's nothing to sneeze at. But sometimes, old habits die hard.

After she kicked coke sometime around 1985, Belinda Carlisle spent a great deal of time talking to the media about how she had heroically and irrevocably kicked coke. After she got back on coke sometime around 1989, she ... didn't spend as much time talking to the media about that. Matter of fact, she didn't talk about that at all. Yep. According to Lips Unsealed, while the official word in TV interviews and magazine articles was that Belinda's drug addiction days were "in her past," she didn't genuinely kick the habit until 2005 (!), a date which I'm afraid is far out of the range of this blog as currently constituted. So, you know, there were a few bumps in the road, but in the end, it's all good.

I have a hard time picturing people still doing coke in the '90s - even rock stars! It would be like dropping acid in the '80s. Well, it turns out that a drug much more heavily associated with the '90s ended up reintroducing Belinda to her little white-powdered friend.

Overall it seems like, four years on, the elements of her life that had initially felt so exciting and liberating (new solo career, new yuppie husband) had gradually become boring and stifling. I guess it was just time for Belinda to shake things up a little. From Lips Unsealed:

Shortly after the May kickoff of my world tour in the UK, I was in my hotel reading through the latest press clippings. I came across a recent review that described me as looking like a singing secretary onstage. He had taken exception to the Chanel-inspired suits I'd had custom-made for the tour. I took offense, but in retrospect he was right.

"Singing secretary"? For some reason I'm picturing an unsuccessful spin-off of The Flying Nun.

I looked like shit. I was way too skinny, wore too much makeup, my bobbed hair was wrong, and the suits - well, they were a different issue. They reflected the trouble I'd had at the outset deciding on a look for the tour. If you have to think too much about those things, it's a sign of confusion and uncertainty - and that was me.

One thing I wasn't confused about was my birth father. He had started writing me letters again before I left home and continued sending entreaties through my management after I started my tour. I had spoken to him a few times on the phone out of the guilt I still felt from having not seen him on my Heaven tour, but I had no intention of letting him back in my life at the level he wanted. I also found something slightly creepy about the way he professed such strong affection for me in his letters. How can you love someone you don't know?

Finally, I came straight out and told him that I didn't want to have a relationship with him. Considering how much I had adored him as a little girl, I agonized about sending him that message. He responded by sending me letters saying that I was going to burn in hell unless I found forgiveness in my heart. I ignored him, hoping and praying he would go away - and he did for a while.

"Burn in hell," eh? Probably not the best strategy to go with if you're trying to convince the daughter you abandoned to resume contact with you again, but what do I know? Frankly, I'm with Belinda on this one. She didn't hear a single peep from the guy until she became famous; if she'd never turned into a celebrity, would he have even given a shit?

Just cram all that emotional turmoil up into a little ball in your mind as you read the following excerpt:

Although still coke-free, I was drinking more. I also started keeping a secret stash of pills, including Valium, Halcion, and Rohypnol. I never thought I might be traveling back down the road to addiction. As long as I wasn't doing coke, I thought I was fine, no big deal.

And it wasn't, I suppose, until I had to perform a promotional show on the same bill as Beach Boys' genius Brian Wilson in Ibiza, an island off Spain. I had never been to this Mediterranean playground, but I knew of its reputation as a decadent, party-hearty getaway for the rich, something that was confirmed when I spotted director Roman Polanski with a pretty young girl at the baggage claim. I thought, Perfect, this is my kind of place.

Words I usually don't expect to see anywhere remotely near each other: "Roman Polanski," "pretty young girl," and "Perfect, this is my kind of place." Belinda, you truly march to the beat of your own drum.

On the way to the hotel, I got my friends Jeannine and Pearlie to promise we were going to be healthy, jog and hike, lay out in the sun, eat right, and get plenty of sleep. By night, though, I was whooping it up at the giant nightclub Amnesia and enjoying my first time doing ecstasy. It seemed like everyone was on it.

We hit all the big ecstasy clubs, including a party in the middle of nowhere - it seemed like a desert - where I watched columns of drag queens go-go dancing. It was a magnificent spectacle. I was both stunned and drawn straight into the unfolding circus. I had never experienced such a night. The whole place was like a Fellini movie. Suddenly, I was drinking tumblers of vodka, smoking cigarettes, dancing, not just listening to but absorbing the music, and having the time of my life. On E, I loved everyone I met.

What if you'd met your birth father? "How can you love someone you don't know"? I think I have the answer.

At one of the clubs, someone offered me a hit of coke. I did it without thinking; my response was automatic. Right after, though, I knew I shouldn't have done it. I thought, Uh-oh.

Well hey! You're on E, everyone's having a good time ... fortune favors the bold.

I hadn't done coke in four years. But that one hit triggered a reaction straight out of the drug addict's textbook. I went on a binge and came out of the last club in the morning. Awash in hot sunlight, I said to myself, "I'm a disaster. This is fucked."

I had yet to call home to check in with Morgan. I sat in the back of a cab and rehearsed what I was going to say to Morgan. Hi, honey, it's me. How are you? I tried different inflections. I was panicked about how I was going to sound. At the hotel, I got out of the cab and walked straight into Brian Wilson and his twenty-four-hour therapist, Dr. Eugene Landy. I tried to act normal as I said hello, but I wasn't fooling anyone. My hair was twisted and gross, my lipstick was blue, and I was covered in filth. Dr. Landy knew what was going on. He also knew Morgan, which made me fear he might call him. I was fucked.

Well, Dr. Landy isn't exactly my idea of someone whose diagnosis I would have put much stock in, but ... the point stands.

I went up to my room and paced back and forth with my cigarette, trying to come down from the coke and rehearsing what I was going to say. Finally, I called Morgan and said I had woken up early and was going to the beach for a jog. He believed me.

On hanging up, though, I was hit with a one-two of shame and guilt for lying to him and for what I had done. Ibiza wasn't good for me. The place was full of temptation. I wanted to get out of there. I performed that night and let some local friends take me out to a club. But this time I didn't drink or do anything, including enjoy myself. In the morning, I caught the first available plane out of there.

I felt like I would've died in Ibiza if I had stayed any longer. I didn't want to do coke ever again.

But soon it was like I had never stopped.

Dum-Dum-Dummmmmm.

David Letterman And Belinda Carlisle: A Love Story, In Nine Acts

Sailing through the Seven Seas of YouTube, one can find clips of Belinda Carlisle on every conceivable interview program known to man, from The View and The Joy Behar Show to BBC Breakfast and Good Morning Australia. But boy, either she couldn't get enough of David Letterman, or David Letterman couldn't get enough of her. Two '80s screwballs met in the potent New York night, and awkward television romance blossomed. How blessed we are, decades later, in that the residue of their torrid affair is here to see in all its grainy VHS glory. Join me, if you will, on a detailed retrospective I would like to call "David Letterman and Belinda Carlisle: A Love Story, In Nine Acts."

Dave vs. Belinda, Round 1:

Belinda's first encounter with Letterman, as far as I am aware, was in 1984, when she was still the lead singer of the Go-Go's, and when he was still a gap-toothed comedic curiosity, and it only gave the merest hint of the passion that would soon engulf them (and us). A few years back, I had hoped to embed the clip in a previous blog post discussing Belinda's affair with Michael Hutchence; however, I was forced to write the following: "It looks like somebody took the clip down from YouTube, but despite that obstacle, I have to say I watched it so many times, I can probably recall the entire interview from memory." Lo and behold, the clip has miraculously resurfaced, which means that the internet can see for itself just how accurate my expertly witty summary, composed without the aid of the clip at my disposal, truly was.

For our purposes today, what I'll say is this: 1) Although Dave and Belinda seem to develop a nice rapport here, he essentially treats her no differently from how he might have treated the majority of his guests (an attitude that was not destined to last); 2) Belinda is still in her coked-out Rue McClanahan phase and has not yet become, shall we say, "late '80s Belinda" in physical appearance.

Dave vs. Belinda, Round 2:

Two years was a lifetime for our freshly-minted Mrs. Mason AKA Queen of Yuppie Rock, and by the time Belinda returned to Letterman in May of 1986, she was in full-blown blonde bombshell mode and promoting her first solo album. Practically the first words out of Dave's mouth are "Boy, you look great!" Not having been privy to the details of their breakup, he asks what the hell happened to the Go-Go's ("I know it's none of our business, but..."), and her initial answer, while grossly oversimplified and rather uninformative, perhaps contains a kernel of truth to it: "It just got to be real boring." He sticks at it:

Dave: Was it one decision or did everybody collectively make it?

Belinda: No, it was sort of, uh, two people's decision. (giggles)

Dave: And who were those two people?

Belinda: Charlotte and myself.

Dave: Oh. (chuckles) Oh, I see, so you guys just kind of ... you walked.

Belinda: We just kinda, yeah, we said, "See ya later."

Another exchange features Belinda's typically self-censored responses:

Dave: So how is it different now travelling because, for eight years, you were an all-female organization and now you're with, uh, men and women in the group, is it a big difference for you?
Belinda: Well, um ... it's kind of weird like on the bus, we can't exactly parade around in, uh ... you know ... what we used to. (giggles)
Dave: And what exactly was that? (audience chuckles)
Belinda: Well you know, underwear, and uh ... undershirts, and that kind of thing. (more giggles)
Dave: So when the Go-Go's were out touring ... (audience hoots and hollers) I just want to make sure I have the proper mental image of this ...

As Belinda/Dave interviews go, this one is fairly tame, for reasons unbeknownst to me, Belinda, or Dave. However, feel free to check out the sultry version of "Mad About You" featuring Paul Shaffer on back-up vocals (at 32:47).

Dave vs. Belinda, Round 3:

And now let's cut to October 1987, with Belinda promoting "Heaven Is a Place on Earth," sporting the Wilma Flintstone black dress/green skirt outfit as seen at the Prince's Trust Concert. Apparently either Letterman hadn't been paying much attention the year prior, or he is particularly horny on this night, but let's just say that Dave has finally seen the light. The realization has hit him like a diamond bullet in the brain: Belinda Carlisle has become laughably gorgeous. Dave has essentially decided to rename his show The Let's All Gawk At How Attractive Belinda Carlisle Is Hour. Samples:

Dave: How you doin'?
Belinda: I'm all right.
Dave: Well you look great. (mile-wide gap-toothed grin on his face) You do, you really, I mean you really look great.
Belinda: Thank you.
Dave: Yeah, uh ... well how is it (possibly pivoting to a new subject, but finding himself unable to do so) ... that you look this great?
Belinda: Um ... I run about 25 miles a week ... and I ... (shrugs her shoulders) I dunno, I eat healthy...
Dave: Now when you were with the Go-Go's you didn't ... I mean you looked great then. But now ... Paul what am I lookin' for here?

Dave then proceeds, like Johnny Carson before him, to ask Belinda about her new pet pig (Belinda clarifies, "It's a suede-back potbellied Asian pig"):

Dave: Do you have it in the house with you?
Belinda: Yeah, it's a house pig.
Dave: You know, I was accused of that once in a divorce settlement, but that's a uh ... Do you have other animals?
Belinda: I have four dogs and a parrot.
Dave: And what is the interaction like between the dogs and the pig?
Belinda: Uh ... they all seem to get along all right. And the parrot likes the pig too.

Seriously, who comes off weirder here, Dave or Belinda? Finally, Dave returns to the theme of the evening:

Dave: I just can't get over it, you are stunning.
Belinda: Well God that's ... thank you.
Dave: Well you're certainly welcome, I mean, you deserve it, I mean, why not? ... Well you come back as often as you like, come back tomorrow night as a matter of fact.

Dave vs. Belinda, Round 4:

Despite Dave's suggestion, Belinda did not, in fact, come back the next night. Rather, she came back two nights later - possibly without intending to. Apparently, at the start of the show (which was to feature Buck Henry, screenwriter of The Graduate and other films, as well as noted character actor), Dave and Paul got wind that Belinda Carlisle was coincidentally in the building, and they decided to track her down "just say hello to her" because, as Dave put it, "she looks great."

With cameraman in tow, they accost her in the hallway:

Paul: Belinda you really, you really ...
Belinda: Is it tomorrow yet?
Paul: Nice to see you.
Dave: We wanted to to tell you that you just look great and ...
Paul: You look fabulous.
Dave: You want to spend the rest of the evening with us? Would you like to ... it's hard for you to say what you're really thinking right now which is, you'd like us to leave you alone, I'm guessing. Do you have plans, where are you going now?
Belinda: Um ... I have to go do an interview.
Dave: Yeah, with who?
Belinda: Slice Magazine. (giggles)
Dave: Slice Magazine. Oh it's the prestigious ... Slice Magazine.
Paul: Blow that off, babe, and come spend the rest of the evening with us.

And so, with a roar of approval from the studio audience, Belinda walks onto the set and takes a seat. He asks her if she knows Buck Henry, and, hilariously, her eyes grow wide with surprise as she exclaims, "Yeah I do know Buck Henry!" Apparently Buck, Belinda, and Morgan had spent some time together at the beach in LA. When Buck comes out, he explains to Dave, "I have a photograph I took of her a few weeks ago in a wetsuit that I'll be glad to send you - for a reasonable fee," before adding, "I know Belinda, I know her husband - he'll be pretty angry when he sees this mess." Dave proceeds to interview Buck for five minutes, while Belinda sits there and says absolutely nothing. After the commercial break, Dave welcomes everyone back with "All right, Buck Henry is here and Belinda Carlisle is here and," turning to Belinda, adds "you're hating every minute of this, aren't you?" After Dave and Paul proceed with one more round of "You look great" and "She hates us all," Dave asks, "But you'll come back eventually, won't you?" Belinda responds with a nakedly sincere, slightly clueless, "Well yeah, definitely."

Dave vs. Belinda, Round 5:

Clearly, she meant what she said. Now in her leather biker chick phase, Belinda returned to the program in March 1988, riding high on "I Get Weak." Dave mentions that she's been nominated for a Grammy and asks her if it means anything to her, to which she replies, with a typical hint of self-loathing, "No, not really." He then asks her about her wardrobe plans:

Dave: What kind of dress did you get?
Belinda: It's just sort of a ... uh ... strapless ... kind of ...
(Several audience members whistle and holler)
Dave: (To the audience) Oh please.
Belinda: Just, you know, sort of like a showgirl-type dress.
Dave: Oh a showgirl-type dress!
Belinda: Well it's not like that - it's like a partygirl-type dress.
Dave: A showgirl/partygirl-type dress. Where does one go for these accoutrements? ... And do you have things prepared to say if your are a trophy winner?
Belinda: No, I don't think I'm going to win, so I'm not preparing anything. (Audience groans with disbelief and sadness.) I know I should have a better attitude, but ...

To be fair, I believe she was up against Whitney Houston, so, she probably possessed a clear-eyed view of her chances. He asks her how her pet pig is doing, and when she responds, "I don't have it anymore," the audience once again groans with sadness, prompting Dave to ask the audience, "Now wait a minute, whose show is this?" It goes on:

Dave: What happened to your pig?
Audience member: Breakfast!
Belinda: No I didn't eat it. Um ... it was, um, it sort of was kind of messy in the house.
Dave: Well I don't think you should be keeping the pig in the house anyway.
Belinda: Well it was sort of messy outdoors too.

Dave vs. Belinda, Round 6:

She returned for more punishment in 1989, knee-deep in her Nicole Kidman circa Days of Thunder phase, to promote "Leave a Light On." Dave asks her why she recorded a bulk of Runaway Horses in France, and she responds, "Just to get away from it all, and get away from distractions." "What kind of distractions were you trying to get away from?..." "Well, we were trying to get away from phone calls, and ... um ... distractions! I don't know." One might consider this a prelude to what follows:

Dave: And you worked in Monaco for ... you did a TV show or an awards presentation, what was that?
Belinda: The Monte Carlo Music Awards. I was up for an award, but I got there and found out I was hosting it (giggles), so ... yeah.
Dave: Now see, if you'd been near a phone, there wouldn't have been this mix-up.

Wrapping things up, Dave says, "Boy you smell terrific," which inspires Belinda to quickly sniff her own wrist in an attempt to establish precisely what she smells like. Whether she succeeded or not is difficult to discern.

Dave vs. Belinda, Round 7:

Here she is in her proto-Lauren Holly phase, and it feels like the love affair might have grown just a touch more lethargic at this stage of the game, with Dave more preoccupied by some gag revolving around the construction of wooden shelves, as well as the next night's guest, three-year-old golfer Brent Palladino, and yet, a few sparks still remain. When she explains that she's been touring all summer, he asks her which place was the best and which place was the worst:

Belinda: The worst place was ...

Dave: Not here, don't tell me here.

Belinda: Uh ... Malaysia. It was kinda scary.

Dave: People nice? Food not good?

Belinda: Mmm, no, no, I got food poisoning.

Dave: Really, what were you eating there?

Belinda: Curried something.

Dave: Curried something. See, you need more information on the menu, before you order. "I'll have the curried something."

Speaking of meals: he comes right out and asks her, "What are you doing tonight?" She explains that she plans to have dinner with a few friends somewhere in Little Italy:

Dave: Could I stop by?

Belinda: Sure, come on over.

Dave: Would that kill you if I stopped by?

Belinda: No you can come on by.

Dave: You'd die if I walked in the restaurant, it would be like one of these (proceeds to pull his sport coat over his face), "Oh geez, oh my God."

Belinda: (unconvincingly) No I wouldn't do that.

Dave vs. Belinda, Round 8:

Now it's 1991 and Belinda is in her "Jackie Kennedy on November 22" phase, promoting what she and Dave do not know will be her (US) flop single, "Do You Feel Like I Feel?" In retrospect, this renders their seemingly innocuous banter slightly more tragic:

Dave: Yeah! That sounded great. Now will that, will that ... that sounded so good here, you know, that's got, like "hit" written all over it, don't you think?
Belinda: Well I think so.
Dave: And that's the one that's gonna sell the album, and it's gonna be a huge hit.
Belinda: I hope so.
Dave: And also, I understand congratulations are in order, because you're, uh, you're pregnant ... And are we far enough along now to know much about it, do we know if it's a boy, do we know if it's a girl, do we want to know?
Belinda: No, we call it The Blob.

Let me note that, while the audience does not even emit the slightest hint of laughter at Belinda 's answer, I, for one, find it magnificent.

Belinda: 'Cause that's what it looks like.
Dave: Good parenting. But do you want to know, ultimately ...?
Belinda: Yeah, yeah, I do want to know. Um ... my husband doesn't want to know, but I'll ... figure it out. (giggles)

Dave: Are you just ... wild with excitement about this?

Belinda: Well I'm kind of horrified actually, but, um ... yeah I mean I get more excited about it every day, I'm getting used to the idea. I guess I'm not 15 anymore.

Dave: No. Uh ... how old are you?

Belinda: I'm 33.

Dave: Are you - 33? Wow, that's, that's great. How old do you think I am?

Belinda: 25.

Dave: Aww, bless your little heart (kisses her hand). And what do you think I weigh?

Dave vs. Belinda, Round 9:

By the time of 1993's single "Big Scary Animal," perhaps Belinda's US standing had fallen so low that she didn't even merit an interview segment? (Looks like Letterman had moved to CBS at this point; maybe that extra airtime would have cost her record label more money than they were willing to shell out.) Let's call this round a draw. Hell, let's call every round a draw.

Please note that I am also excluding three (!) appearances by the reunited Go-Go's in 1990, 1994, and 2001, respectively, none of which feature interview segments with either Belinda or the rest of the band.

Postscript: Lord knows where I saw it, but I recall reading, in one of many numerous interviews with our fetching heroine, the interviewer asking her what qualities she found attractive in men, and her answer was something along the lines of, "A great sense of humor, you know, like Howard Stern or David Letterman." Two thoughts: 1) What, precisely, would become of David Letterman's brain if word of this ever got around to him? 2) A great sense of humor? Am I crazy to think I would've had a chance?

Runaway Belinda Interviews From The Runaway Horses Era

Like a novice equestrian riding an untamed stallion, any interviewer of Belinda Carlisle circa 1989/1990 might have found themselves treading a thin line between galloping majestically through the unspoiled countryside and being violently catapulted into the gooey mud. Maybe she'd stay the course, maybe she'd end up kicking the jockey in the balls - who could say?

I've always been familiar with USA Today as a newspaper (one which ... still exists?), but I've been unaware of its existence as any sort of television entity; until being asked to do this interview, my guess is that Belinda would have been equally ignorant. Regardless, just prior to the release of Runaway Horses in late 1989, here she finds herself reclining in the passenger seat of an old Cadillac across from a Universal City Nissan dealership, alongside an interviewer armed with a camcorder, a boom box, and hokey narration. I have to say, somehow this ends up being more substantial than it had any right to be. Highlights:

Interviewer: When you went out on the road with the Go-Go's, you had this clean-cut, wholesome image. Did that bother you at the time?

Belinda: Yeah, it was sort of, you know, I think people feel comfortable with labels, and they just happened to slap the "cute, bubbly, and effervescent" label on us, which was fine, it was really annoying, and uh ...

Interviewer: At the time, were you rebelling against that?

Belinda: Oh yeah, definitely. Definitely privately, not publicly, but privately we were definitely rebelling.

Details? Not safe for USA Today? Saving those up for the book, I suppose. The interviewer plays "Leave a Light On" from a tiny little boom box and asks Belinda if she likes it. "Oh yeah, I love it," she responds between giggles. "It's good. I better like it, I did it!"

Interviewer: Is it hard for you to listen to your own music?

Belinda: Yes it is. Especially after I just got through singing that song at least 200 times. Yeah, it is. You know, I love hearing it on the radio though, I remember the very first time I heard my voice on the radio, it was really ... thrilling and it still is, I have to admit when my song comes on I do turn it up.

Interviewer [in voiceover]: When she goes this long between performances, does the thought of a live audience make Belinda nervous?

Belinda: Even when I'm used to it, it freaks me out if I think about it, so I just try not to think about it, and I pretend that they're there to see somebody else. 'Cause it is kind of ... a couple times I've been on stage and I've sort of looked out and you could see profiles from way in the back going like this [waves arms] and you start thinking about, well they've actually paid money to see me, and then it starts, uh, playing tricks on your mind a little bit.

Impostor Syndrome, thy name is Belinda Carlisle.

Here we have a solid performance of "Summer Rain" from the Arsenio Hall Show (featuring at least a few live strings?), followed by a typically amusing interview. (Apologies for the audio that only plays on the left channel; there is a clip of simply the interview portion that features better audio, but I wanted include the performance as well, so, deal with it.) The surely neon-and-spandex-clad audience appears to approve of both the song and Belinda's majestically lengthy fake eyelashes, as I detect a few patented "Whoot! Whoot!" chants among the gathered throng.

I've forgotten how nice Arsenio's couches were. He really didn't skimp on the couches. I've also forgotten how perceptive and empathetic of an interviewer he could be. After Belinda confirms an upcoming Go-Go's reunion (to be discussed by yours truly in a future post?), Arsenio remarks, "You look good. And when I say 'good' I mean, not, yeah, you know..." The audience inevitably hollers. "I mean not in the sense of 'Why don't you come on back to my place later' ... I don't mean it like that, I mean, I'm looking into your eyes and I know you did have some problems and you've gotten 'em together and you look real healthy and happy and I'm happy for you." Belinda smiles, nods, and responds "Thank you, I am happy." Yeahhhh. According to Lips Unsealed, she was just keeping things together at this point and was merely a few months away from hitting an even rougher patch, but, you know ... it was probably wisest just to smile, nod, and say "Thank you, I am happy." The next exchange is a keeper:

Arsenio: Let's talk music. AMA's this past week?

Belinda: (giggles)

Arsenio: What'd you think, did you go?

Belinda: No. Uh-uh. I was in Vegas.

Arsenio: What do you think about, like, the direction of music, Milli Vanilli being the hottest thing in music? (laughs gleefully)

Belinda: (mangles her words but essentially says, "Mother always taught me, 'If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.'") They're not my favorite. But I know they're not your favorite either.

Arsenio: I'm just amazed by it.

Belinda: I am too. I am too! What can I say?

Arsenio: I mean, some place, Tom Petty, and Paul McCartney, and great writers like Luther Vandross and Elton John, they're sittin' around and sayin' "What the hell is goin' on?!"

Well how 'bout them apples? I guess even at the time, before their terrible "secret" trickled out, many in the entertainment business were already rather unimpressed with Milli Vanilli. Catchy tunes though. Later, Belinda goes into detail about her process for picking her material, something she hardly ever talked about:

Arsenio: How do you choose your material, I mean, what do you look for? 'Cause I think, people sing your songs constantly.

Belinda: Well I know lyrically, you know, by looking at it, whether it's right for me or not and, um, I have a good sense of what I do, and uh, I just know really basically within 30 seconds whether the song is right for me or not, doesn't really take me that long to figure it out.

This might help explain her glorious demo of "Waiting For a Star to Fall," although it certainly lasted longer than 30 seconds. He asks her if she writes a lot, and she replies, without too much exaggeration, "I'm starting to write, I have a credit on the Graces album [one of Charlotte Caffey's projects] and I have a half-a-credit on my album, so I'm tryin'." When Arsenio repeats, "Half a credit," she responds, playfully, "That's better than no credit." He asks her which song she co-wrote, she answers "Shades of Michaelangelo," and when she hears crickets, Belinda raises her arms and shouts, "Yeah!" like a girl in school who just ran for class president, failed to receive a single vote, and is attempting to laugh it off.

Just when I thought I'd seen it all, here's Belinda on what appears to be a UK children's TV show called Going Live! The host begins by handing Belinda a Platinum award for Runaway Horses (or rather, forcing young Hayden and Genevieve to do the dirty work), which she pretends to appreciate but ultimately seems to understand she has no real use for. Then, upon being prompted, she shares the following story: "I was jogging in the park in Australia, and I love dogs, and I stopped to pet a great dane, and he liked me a lot and he attacked me in the park." She proceeds to raise her eyebrows with sardonic glee.

Next comes a segment in which children across the British Isles call in and ask Belinda questions, which she is supposed to be able to hear through a giant 1990-era cell phone, but her phone seems to malfunction and she can't make out a damn thing. Utilizing that quick British problem-solving know-how of his, the host simply repeats the questions for Belinda, but she is obviously wondering why the program doesn't just pipe the caller audio into large studio speakers like a normal TV program would. A technician speedily pops up and hands Belinda a new cell phone, but this doesn't necessarily make the cell phone gimmick seem any more justifiable. After a pair of softball questions from Claire Chisholm and Zoe Lawrence about fear of live performance and animal rights activism, respectively, Nicholas Payne asks what should be a softball question, but gives Belinda the chance to puncture the magical veneer of pop stardom:

Nicholas Payne: Why did you choose the ... musical career?

Belinda: Why did I? Umm ... well I sort of fell into it accidentally. I was with a bunch of friends one night at a party, four of the girls, and everybody we knew was in a band and they were terrible, so we thought, that we could be in a band and be terrible too.

Host: This is the Go-Go's.

Belinda: Yeah, uh-huh. But that was the great thing about the punk days, you know, you didn't really have to know how to play your instruments.

Host: Would you say that you've now changed, and maybe changed your singing and vocals?

Belinda: Oh I've since, about four or five years into my, you know, singing career, I started taking vocal lessons.

Host: Right, right, did they make any difference? I mean, did you think halfway through, "Oh this is a waste of time"?

Belinda: Oh it makes a big difference, I still go to vocal lessons, yeah, yeah.

Host: And what is that, stretching your ...

Belinda: It's learning how to sing properly and not singing through your throat, singing through your diaphragm, your stomach, and it's, umm, you know, they sort of stretch your vocal abilities out a little bit.

Host: Sounds very painful to me.

So there you go Nicholas, you could be a pop star too - with or without vocal lessons. James Gilbert then asks Belinda if she has ever been to Marseilles, given that the town is mentioned in the lyrics to "La Luna," and Belinda spends about thirty seconds uninformatively repeating that her time in Marseilles was "interesting," leading one to conclude that whatever did happen to Belinda in Marseilles was probably very interesting indeed, and probably NSF-Going Live! She and the host then show off the glorious package of Runaway Horses paraphernalia that lucky viewers could win if they correctly answer the question, "What is the term used to describe the height of a horse?"

The show finally switches to an awkward segment where the host and Belinda grab postcards out of a giant basket, read out questions and answers, and then announce the winners of various prizes, with Belinda essentially acting as Vannah White. She attempts to be a good sport (and she somehow knows how many colors there are in a rainbow!), but clearly has a look on her face that all but says, "When I finally get out of here, I'm going to have a talk with my agent about this."

Last but not least, here's another interview from, I presume, only a short while later during the same tour of Britain, and this poor UK TV station appears to have caught Belinda on a ... less-than-optimal day. If Belinda isn't high on coke here, she certainly appears to be high on something (in Lips Unsealed she mentions lugging around a tasty cocktail of Valium, Halcion, and Rohypnol at this time). Either she'd been singing herself hoarse the entire week prior, or she'd been drinking one pint of lighter fluid too many, but her speaking voice has been reduced to a craggy ball of razors. Notice, also, how her speech is extremely rushed and tense, with hardly any pauses. She barely looks at the interviewer, and she only laughs when she recounts the depressing details of her drug use. The answers all sound slightly rehearsed and canned. Basically, she looks kind of ... fucked up. Which makes this clip utterly mesmerizing and turns all the talk about her "past struggles with addiction" into something alternately sad and hilarious. It's as if the station had prepared a segment based on a bunch of marketing info they'd received from Belinda's record label, and then Belinda walked into the studio almost certainly under the influence of one chemical or another and completely undercut the narrative, but the anchors pretended not to notice and simply stuck to the script. It's gold, baby! Best segment:

Interviewer: Well how did you decide to stop then?

Belinda: I met my husband, and I knew that I couldn't carry on with a relationship with him, um, if I continued the way I was going. He had no idea that I was a drug addict when he got involved with me. And, um, he didn't give me any ultimatum, I just decided that, if I was to, you know, I wanted to marry him.

Interviewer: When did you tell him that you had this problem, when did he guess?

Belinda: No, I think he figured it out when he found all the coke underneath the sofa. (Laughs uncontrollably.) I think that's ... I think that's ... (can't seem to stop laughing) when he figured out, "I've gotten involved with a drug addict." Um, but, I mean, I could hide it pretty well. You know. I'll never forget that morning when he found ... (bursts into uncontrollable laughter again) ... he dumps it over the balcony and I was like, "Oh no! My drugs!" But um, I realized then that I had a choice, that I had to either get my act together or, you know, I wouldn't be where I am now.

And where, exactly, are you now, Belinda? Props for her skillful re-enactment of Morgan tossing her coke; I feel like she really took us into the moment. The zaniness continues:

Interviewer: So what did you do then, Belinda, what route did you go then to stop it?

Belinda: I had a friend that just got clean, and I called her and she took me to a meeting. I'm not a program person because I still drink occasionally, it was never a problem with me, um, you know, drugs were a problem with me. Um, so, for a while I was going to support groups, and now I'm in, um, sort of an offspring of a support group that deals with a different addiction which is food. And so now I'm working my steps through the drugs too. Um, but if it's not one thing it's the other.

Interviewer: Can I talk to you a bit about your music?

Oh that's right, her music. I'd forgotten about that. Once it's all over, the camera cuts back to the studio set, where the two unflappable anchors do their best to ignore what they'd seen and mostly focus on what they'd heard. "She's been very honest about all that." "But it's brilliant what she's been through, to come out of it like that, and to have a wonderful career." Oh yes, to "come out of it" like that. Totally the impression I got.

Waiting For An Embarrassing Belinda Demo To Fall (Into Bootleggers' Arms)

So, my favorite singers. It's funny who might make the list. Not necessarily the singers who would normally appear high on perennial "Greatest Singer" lists - Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Barbra Streisand, Tony Bennett, Aretha Franklin, Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson, Mariah Carey - although some of them might. Not even necessarily the singers who I would count among my favorite musical artists: Paul McCartney, Elton John, Mick Jagger, Robert Plant, David Byrne, Morrissey, Liam Gallagher. I mean, I'm sure I enjoy those voices on some level, but it's not precisely the voices that I connect with. No, my list of favorite singers is even more random than that.

Here's what makes a singer's voice qualify as a "favorite" for me: when I feel like I can hear a part of my own personality in that voice - be it sadness, rage, uncertainty, steadiness, etc. It's when I hear certain voices and they feel like a warm hug being wrapped around my soul. These are the voices that make me feel ever-so-slightly more connected to the human race - a connection that, at times, can feel rather tenuous. Some of my favorite singers are quite highly regarded as singers: Stevie Wonder, Elvis, George Jones, Karen Carpenter, John Lennon, Etta James, Brian Wilson, Ray Charles, Brenda Lee, Bobby "Blue" Bland. Some of my favorite singers have often been called outright "bad" singers: Neil Young, Tom Waits, Johnny Cash, Roger Waters, Donald Fagen, Joe Jackson, Leon Russell. Sometimes, I just plain like the sound of that singer's voice, even when the song they're singing stinks. But the one quality that I think all my favorite voices share - for me at least - is a sense of directness. When I am listening to these people sing, I feel like there is nothing standing between their being and my being. There's no artifice. Even when they're phoning it in, I feel like I am always getting the full "them." Also, I can pick out their voices in about five seconds flat. They may have had their influences, but somehow, someway, I always know that it's them.

I think it's accurate to say that, in her youth, Belinda Carlisle didn't possess a conventionally "strong" voice. She wasn't what you might have called "versatile." She probably wouldn't have cut it in any scene other than the punk/new wave scene. So why is it that the mere sound of her voice makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside? It's the kind of voice that I had always subconsciously liked, but I had never really given much thought to until I went on my unexpected Go-Go's binge roughly ten years ago. Even on the earliest Go-Go's songs, Belinda's voice always had that little vibrato, or "quiver" or "tremble" to it. In wondering where that vibrato might have come from, I think back to the terror she might have experienced as a child wondering whether her drunken stepfather was about to beat the living shit out of her or not. That could have had something to do with it. All those childhood fears may have become embedded deeply into her bones. To paraphrase Pete Townshend (another "favorite" singer of mine whose voice probably wouldn't be considered conventionally "good"), "sickness can surely take the voice where voices can't usually go."

This anonymous person who commented on an old AV Club article about Beauty and the Beat that was published several years back knows what I'm talkin' 'bout:

Carlisle is obviously my favourite Go-Go (because Wilma vs. Betty is not even a choice since you're obviously gonna go with Wilma every time). I love her voice. I have a thing for raspy female voices that sill sound feminine (listen to the choruses in "Runaway Horses", the song). Her voice is a mix of Bonnie Tyler, Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks, Siouxsie Sioux, Chrissie Hynde, Debbie Harry, and Dolly Parton. The thing about her voice is, it's not a pop voice, it's a raspy rock and roll voice (listen to the Go-Gos' version of "I Wanna Be Sedated" from the 2001 concert in Central Park). But it's not as harsh as most female rock voices, so you do buy her as a pop singer in the same way you buy Pink as a pop singer. Or I guess a better way to put it would be that Carlisle straddles the fence between pop (solo) and rock (with the Go-Go's) and is a bit too rock for pop music and bit too pop for rock music. But yeah, Carlisle rocks. She may be one of the only women in music who came close to matching Keith Richards' level of drug abuse/partying and came out the other side with her sense of humor (and everything else) intact.

Yes, like Keith, she is truly a modern miracle of science and biology.

Sure, her singing style is not everyone's cup of tea. I can understand someone actively disliking her voice (her detractors have not been shy to make their presence known on YouTube). She's not a "properly trained" vocalist ... but that's a good thing! The great ones either got it or they don't. Witness Madonna after about 1986, who has tried so incredibly hard to train her voice and to become a "conventionally great" vocalist, and yet ... I don't get the warm fuzzies from just the sheer sound of her voice like I do from Belinda's. That voice is like a trusty friend - and it might have been a trusty friend to Belinda too. One aspect of her career (out of many) I find highly amusing is that, while she went through about sixteen different physical transformations, eighteen different hairstyles, and fourteen different hair colors, whenever she opened her mouth, no matter what phase she happened to be in, that same fucking voice would come out. It was her North Star, her Big Mac. (Another irony is that, at the peak of her recording career, she didn't think much of herself as a singer, but now, in her later years, I've noticed that she has finally discovered her singing "self-esteem" and that she puts a lot more thought and effort into her singing ... even though her voice has aged and doesn't sound like it once did. But, them's the breaks.)

I write all these observations as a prelude to a discussion of Belinda's less-than-impressive vocal performance on a demo of the song "Waiting for a Star to Fall."

Flying in straight from a rejected sitcom pilot near you, allow me to present Boy Meets Girl's "Waiting for a Star to Fall," a 1989 #5 hit that I didn't care for much at the time, which, considering I had the taste of a nine-year-old, was a fairly harsh verdict. Yes, even back then, the tune struck me as an over-calculated piece of radio product, utilizing a corny metaphor (stars are actually massive bodies of gas that burn out over the course of billions of years, and don't technically "fall" anywhere), self-consciously dramatic pauses, and a TUKC at the start of the sax solo (to be fair, the key change usually comes after the solo, so I guess they were trying to shake things up a little?). I just find something so artificially "sloppy" about the chorus: "Carry your heart into my arms, that's where you belong, in my arms, baby, yeah!" with the whole "arms, baby, yeah!" bit coming off to me like a freeze-dried, pre-packaged Robert Plant ad lib - tacked on for a touch of "spontaneous" flavor, but ending up tasting like undercooked microwaved Swanson's pot pie? And they apply this little "delay" effect to the lead singer's last "yeah" so that he appears to sing it twice, as if he's so smitten by this overpowering crush of his that he can't even deliver his words on time. I can see why the song was a hit, and I can also see why the radio quickly banished it to Siberia right around, say, February of 1991, presumably for all eternity, only for the mutant robot remnants of the track to return with a vengeance in the UK circa 2005 as "Star2Fall" by Cabin Crew, "Falling Stars" by Sunset Strippers, and "In My Arms" by Mylo. Moral of the story: you can try sweeping those '80s ghouls under the carpet, but eventually, their dusty remains will morph, shift, coagulate, and re-emerge to terrorize the world once again in kitschy electronica form.

But let's go back to the original culprit. If you're listening to "Waiting for a Star to Fall" and thinking, "You know, this kind of sounds like a Whitney Houston reject," well ... from Wikipedia:

Boy Meets Girl is an American pop-music duo consisting of keyboardist and vocalist George Merrill and singer Shannon Rubicam. They are perhaps best known for their hit song "Waiting for a Star to Fall" from 1988 and for writing two of Whitney Houston's number one hits: "How Will I Know" and "I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)."

Oh. I've heard of those. Wikipedia goes on to mention that "Waiting for a Star to Fall" was "inspired by an actual falling star that Rubicam had seen during a Whitney Houston concert at the Greek Theatre in Los Angeles." Well there you have it, the stars were literally aligning for Merrill, Rubicam, and Houston to score their third #1 single, and then ... Houston's manager, the one and only Clive Davis ... didn't like it. He said that it "didn't suit her." Why the hell not? It sounded just like the other two songs. Guy was nuts, but anyway. We're not here to talk about Whitney Houston. Oh no. We're here to talk about the next singer to whom the song was offered.

According to Wikipedia: "The song was then offered to and recorded by Belinda Carlisle for her 1987 release Heaven on Earth, at the insistence of her label, but Carlisle disliked it and refused to include it on the album. This version has, however, circulated on an unofficial compilation of that album's outtakes."

[twirling mustache] Oh reeeeeally. All right, YouTube, I know you're going to come through for me here.

That's what I'm talking about. Let me guess how this went down:

"Belinda, we've got a hot new song, it's from Whitney's people, but she doesn't want to do it, come on, it'll be huge!"

"Uhh, I dunno guys, it's pretty cheesy."

"So were all the songs on your last album, like 'I Feel the Magic' and 'Shot in the Dark,' I mean, why stop now?"

"Well, if Whitney didn't want to do it, then why would I want to do it?"

"Belinda, baby, we're your record label! Have we ever let you down?"

"Look, I don't think it's for me. Can we just pass here?"

"Tell you what. At least do a demo of it, all right? One lousy demo. Let's just see what we've got here, see what it sounds like. Do a demo and then we'll talk. Capice?"

"OK, fine. If I do a half-assed demo version that's totally fucking terrible, then we can move on to something else?"

"Deal!"

And so, somewhere beneath 200 tons of tape hiss, we have Belinda's demo version of "Waiting for a Star to Fall." You know Plato's concept of the Cave, which posits that most of what human beings actually perceive is merely a shadow of reality being projected onto the wall of a cave? Well, this demo's backing track sounds like the shadow of an actual recording, projected onto the wall of the recording studio's cave. And then we have Belinda's vocal performance, which I presume was given at gunpoint, as she sounds like a woman undergoing extreme discomfort and duress. Your mother singing "Waiting for a Star to Fall" in the shower would have probably sounded more confident than this. Bottom line: she just ... wasn't ... into it.

And yet! Several YouTube commentators have taken this less-than-stellar outtake as evidence that Belinda couldn't actually sing, but I think it might prove the exact opposite. For someone recording a practice vocal of a song she didn't like over a Casio-generated musical backing ... she sounds pretty good to me! Choice excerpts from the debate:

Belinda, go home. You're drunk.

Yikes! It's like a birthday cake with a big spider on it.

Waiting for this song to end.

1:43 is where I stopped hoping for a good part and just laughed my way through the demo.

It sounds like a cow being run over.

Hey Belinda, I love ya, you've got allotta my money in your pocket but thanks for turning this song down.

To be fair it's a demo but Belinda cannot hit the notes very well. Boy Meets Girl did it with passion on vocals and instruments.

This gives me hope that, being a total lay singer, my own singing isn't thaaaat bad after all. It's interesting how weak Belinda's vocals sound without fancy sound effects.

Belinda's vocals get cut a lot of slack due to her looks.

This needs like 500% more sax.

c'mon all!! This isn't that bad! It's pretty good!

Unpopular Opinion: I think this is good.

amazing what happens when you have to actually sing before all the editing to make you sound good is added in. I never knew she was actually a terrible live singer omg lol she''s all over the place, way out of tune

She's a very strong live singer, this song just doesn't suit her. Bear in mind too that this is a demo and could be 1 of many takes, check out some of her live video's she can really nail it.

I'm sorry but those making fun of her voice; she's by far better then any 'teen' singing now.

This was probably a scratch take rather than anything that was meant to sound decent. I mean, the backing music is just as bad as the vocal. If you watch videos of her live performances you can see she can actually sing. If she had done a version with a serious vocal and full-on instrumentation, I'm sure it would sound good.

This sounds like a practice recording while she's trying to learn the song.I wonder who released this,it appears they don't like Belinda.

There are so many negative comments. It's obvious she was just going through the motions seeing if she liked the song. I mean their are no real instruments even. It's all synthesized/drum machine junk. I love Belinda. Even with no auto tune or real musicians she sounds better than most, even good I will venture to say.

This was way too far from the finished product. Even if she had recorded it, it would have sounded much better than this. I do think it was more a Whitney song than Belinda. Having said that Merrill and Rubicam own it.

Belinda's lovely voice is the best thing about this recording. The musicians were farther off of their marks on this spiritless arrangement. Had they drafted a serious producer/arranger and put in some positive rehearsal time, they would have come away with the best version ever recorded. A sweet, yet tragic, orphan of the muse.

Do people not know what a "demo" is? It's a rough cut of a song before you go in the studio to fully record, polish and produce it. This song was thrown at her and she didn't want to record at all. For those comparing it to Boy Meet Girl, that's comparing apples to oranges - the original songwriters version of the song with full production (as everyone knows and loves) compared to a demo of someone who never wanted it. And thank God. This song has no place on "Heaven on Earth" at all and would've killed the album. Boy Meets Girl should be glad they got to keep it for themselves and have success with it. It's just the industry.

What a delightful little find! These days they auto tune the demos so it's kinda nice hearing a good old traditional slightly off key in parts grass roots demo - 80's style!

I pose that my demo from 1988 is better than Belinda’s version of this song...but barely

Here's the deal: as crappy as this demo is ... somehow, someway, I still feel the magic. I still feel the warm and fuzzies. That's the deal with your favorite singers: even when they're terrible, you love them regardless. It's like a marriage: for better or worse, for richer or poorer. If Belinda's voice is like a warm hug wrapping itself around my soul, this demo is more like a sweaty, gross hug after she's just come back from the gym. But I'll take it.

In the end, "Waiting for a Star to Fall" was simply "waiting to fall" into the hands of the duo who wrote it, providing them with the glory and status that they so richly deserved, and allowing Belinda to dodge a cheesy '80s bullet. Apparently, she just couldn't stoop so low as to record a peppy Whitney Houston reject. The woman had standards. I mean, it's not like she was filming Christmas ads for L.A. Gear or something. Oh, wait:

Runaway Horses: When An Album Gallops Across Europe, But Trots Across America

Question: Would you trade American stardom for European stardom? Sub-question: If you had no choice in the matter, could you get used to it? It sounds to me like Belinda Carlisle never quite did.

Although she couldn't have actually known it yet, with Heaven on Earth and its accompanying worldwide #1 single, Belinda had reached the peak of her solo success. But if she didn't know it yet, she could certainly sense it. A pop music career is not a math equation. Just because your first album goes Gold, and your second album goes Platinum, doesn't mean that your third album will go Double Platinum. But it wouldn't be out of the question if it did, would it? From Lips Unsealed:

Though a number of major producers inquired about working with me, I teamed up with Rick Nowels again. For a second time I was in the studio trying not to think about the pressure and the high expectations. Yet the industry's reigning A&R guru John Kalodner laid it right out there by saying, "If Belinda gets this album right, she's going to be the biggest star in the world." I tried not to think about it, but I knew the opportunity was there.

"Belinda, baby, the world is your oyster! You could be the toppermost of the poppermost!" Uhh ... bigger than MJ? Based on what, exactly? Her wall-humping prowess? Well, either Belinda failed to "[get the] album right," or John Kalodner was talking out of his A&R anus, but if squint a little, you can kind of see where he was coming from. Belinda was just coming off an album that had produced three US and UK Top 10 hits, she had the looks, she had the pipes, she had the looks (on the Runaway Horses album cover, as a sweater delicately slides down her comely shoulder, the camera is potentially catching Belinda either in mid-orgasm or mid-fart - it's hard to tell and they both feel good anyway) ... the airwaves were hers for the taking. What she didn't have, of course, was ambition, but hey, that hadn't hurt her yet! At any rate, let's see how accurate Mr. Kalodner's prediction became:

Overall, we worked on the album as if money didn't matter. We took a year and spent close to $1 million. That may have sounded great in the press, but now when I hear something like that I know, because it was the case with my album, that it signals trouble. We second-guessed ourselves right and left and lost touch with the basics and ended up with an expensive album, not the great one we had hoped to make.

In September, "Leave a Light On" came out and was a hit everywhere in the world except the U.S., where it failed to crack the top 10, an indication that times and the music-buying public's taste had changed. When Runaway Horses hit the stores a month later, it opened well overseas but struggled here at home, needing six months to creep its way to a very disappointing peak of 37.

(Sad trombone.) #37? Daaaaaamn. That sure puts other notorious commercial "disappointments" like Tusk (which peaked at #4) or The Final Cut (which peaked at #6) in perspective. Even Queen's Hot Space peaked at #24. But leave it to the master of self-loathing to throw more cold water onto the fire than necessary. In Belinda's telling, "Leave a Light On" was "a hit everywhere in the world except the U.S.," but what she means is that it was a huge hit everywhere in the world except the U.S., where it was merely a moderately-sized hit, peaking at #11 - which ain't bad at all! Talk about changing the goalposts. And sometimes, an album's peak chart position doesn't tell the whole story anyway, because what Dottie Danger fails to mention is that, in the U.S., Runaway Horses still went Gold! In other words, plenty of people did ultimately purchase the album; they just took their sweet time in doing so. A Gold album is nothing to sneeze at. Talk Show didn't even go Gold. Besides, here's how I know the album found its way onto numerous American stereos: a couple of years ago I met a colleague on a theater project who claimed to have repeatedly performed aerobics as a youth while listening to Runaway Horses. I tell you, nothing gets the blood pumping like the red-headed roar of the Queen of Yuppie Rock. It's also classic how much she downplays the success of the album in Europe, merely stating that it "opened well overseas." The album peaked at #4 in the UK, #4 in Sweden, and #6 in Australia, essentially duplicating the success of Heaven on Earth. Runaway Horses was a blockbuster smash - just not in the country she was born in. But on the other hand, I know what she's saying. Her management and her record label were whispering in her ear as if the album was going to be the next Rhythm Nation 1814 or Like a Prayer, not R.E.M.'s Murmur. I mean fuck, in 1990, even Christmas albums went Gold. Belinda was not about to become Mariah Carey here.

Although I put on a positive face for the press, I was deeply hurt by the album's failure to live up to expectations. In many ways, it was my favorite collection of songs. Morgan counseled me to work at the things I could influence and let go of everything else. I tried. Some days I managed. Other days I was filled with anxiety and struggled with all of my issues.

Yeah, well, par for the course. It's also interesting that in one paragraph she says that she "second-guessed" herself and ended up making an "expensive" album and not a "great" album, and then in another paragraph calls the album "my favorite collection of songs," but Belinda is nothing if not a riddle of contradictions. Although I only got around to listening to the entire album about a year ago, frankly, I think it's a stronger overall album than Heaven on Earth! AMG gives it three stars and its predecessor four stars, but I would probably switch that rating around. No, it doesn't have that one single song that blows you away like "Heaven is A Place on Earth," but overall I find it more consistent, more adventurous, more ... not depressing exactly, but more tempestuous, mercurial. Runaway Horses, despite the thousand layers of studio gloss on it that Belinda apparently claims to regret, feels to me more like the work of the "real" Belinda. Sure, it's long way from "Skidmarks on My Heart," but let's just say that if your stock shares just plummeted and you're in the mood for a late night cruise through wine country, this is the album that begs to be blasted on your Mercedes stereo.

"Leave a Light On," "Summer Rain," and "La Luna" I already tackled, but get a load of these seven other goodies. The title track isn't quite a power ballad - it's more like an "energy saver" ballad, but as Belinda album cuts go, I say it's a keeper, with a chorus that inspires me to hoist my solar-powered flashlight high into the air. Even the key change, if predictable, still feels appropriate. "Runaway Horses" actually made some noise in the UK, peaking at #40. Let's just say these horses didn't exactly win the Kentucky Derby here. Besides, if you're riding "runaway horses," don't those horses actually belong to somebody? Wouldn't you need to give them back? The relatively uneventful video features Belinda in a wholesome peasant-style dress, leaning against a wall in the requisite abandoned house with crystal chandelier, as the shadows of horses prance around the room and sinister merry-go-round horses silently wait to pounce. A golden opportunity for further wall-humping, clearly wasted.



"Vision of You" hit #41 in the UK, but whoa, Darby Crash would not have been into this one. Get a load of this chorus: "Nobody's touch feels like your touch/Nobody gets to me that much/Nobody's kiss gets me inside/And I have no place to hide/Tell me what can I do/I have a vision of you." Generic, thy name is "Vision of You." I feel like even Streisand would have balked at these lyrics. It's a little too cliched and sedate for me, but judging by the YouTube comments (always an accurate barometer of public opinion), it has plenty of admirers. Let me just say that this is the video I posted back when I wanted to demonstrate how counter-intuitive it was that the singer of songs like "Vision of You" claimed Iggy Pop as her musical idol. Of course, Iggy Pop didn't look quite as good in a tight sequin dress (though I'm sure he tried).



"(We Want) The Same Thing" could be considered the album's big "rocker," Belinda's husky, lower-register delivery on the verses coming as close as this album gets to sassy, winking camp ("Here is my case/We've got no time to waste/'Cause we want the same thing"? "We're fighting a war/But we don't know what for/'Cause we want the same thing"??), but the chorus is sparkly and shiny and smothered in a thick wall of female vocals and bells and keyboards and it kind of sounds like a jingle for pantyhose but ... it's catchy. Good Lord, is it catchy. For those taking note, the single mix was even more violent and unruly, sporting opening chants of "Hey! Hey!," extra vocal overdubs, and more club-friendly percussive thumping. This one really caught the British public by storm, peaking at #6. Guess that remix did the trick?



So that's six singles that charted at least somewhere in the Western world, but I think where Runaway Horses has Heaven on Earth beat is in the relative strength of the leftover album tracks. And I mean "relative," because don't expect "Never Going Back Again" and "Oh Daddy" here. "Deep Deep Ocean" is like the lethargic twin sibling of "Leave a Light On," featuring the album's other George Harrison solo, and yet, despite being just a rat in a cage, listen to Belinda's vocals of rage! "Valentine" and "Whatever It Takes" is where the album and/or Rick Nowels start to lose me, but if you're going to lose the listener, you might as well do it around tracks 8 and 9, amirite? There's an octave jump on "Valentine" that I'm not entirely sure Belinda handles successfully, but did I ever co-write "You Get What You Give"? No, I did not. If Rick said it worked, then I guess it worked. There's also a synth solo that sounds like it left the apartment drunk one night back in 1985 and got lost for four years on its way back to the studio. I would have made a joke about "Whatever It Takes" resembling a bland Bryan Adams track, except the song literally features backing vocals from Bryan Adams.

Upon learning that the closing track, "Shades of Michaelangelo," features lyrics composed by none other than the artist herself (with music by her former colleague Charlotte Caffey), I was tempted to chuckle surreptitiously into my sleeve (so that Belinda wouldn't see my snark), but if I check my attitude at the door, I have to admit that the song is surprisingly soothing, spirited, and hummable. I'd say it kicks the crap out of the three cuts that proceeded it, at least. Maybe B.C. should have gotten off her ass and written more of her own lyrics - not because she was great at it, exactly, but because it apparently gave Charlotte the impetus to compose some excellent musical accompaniment:

A still life portrait of you by my window
Touched by an innocence now fading away

Into a quiet storm of the tears of the angels
Falling around me as I'm watching the days
I frame colors of passion against a fading sky

With a stroke of love on the canvas of my soul
I'm painting a perfect world with shades of Michaelangelo
It's a promise made to every heart that knows
We can live in a perfect world, with shades of Michaelangelo

I hear songs of children echo in the sky
I hear songs of children, a tomorrow so bright

But could she actually spell "Michaelangelo" correctly? Sure, these lyrics might be overly earnest and hokey, but are they any worse than the lyrics for, say, "Vision of You"? And while I feel like her singing on some of the album's tracks veers into wayward vibrato territory, on "Shades of Michaelangelo" she sounds clear and sweet and Go-Go-licious; I'm thinking that either she felt more at ease with her own lyrics, or that Charlotte had a more intuitive grasp of Belinda's proper vocal range than Rick did. Here's how she described the inspiration behind the track in an interview on The Arsenio Hall Show: "It's an environmental-type song, it's just how ... I look out my window, I have a garden and a hill, and just wondering whether it's gonna be there 50 years from now, and then I was at the Vatican in Rome, and looking at all the great masterpieces by Michaelangelo, and thought, 'Oh wouldn't that be perfect, to live in a picture just like that.'" Deeeeeep. Actually, that doesn't make any sense, but never mind. I watched Belinda suffer a dull, aching pain, and now she decided to show me the same. Wait, that's "Wild Horses," not Runaway Horses. You get the idea.



Anyway, it's funny how the business works. Belinda releases an album that, in my opinion, is stronger overall than Heaven on Earth, but it essentially kills the momentum of her American solo career. Let me put on my best Seinfeld voice and ask, "What was the deal?" I'm not saying it was the greatest album on God's green earth, but it's not like she married her 13-year-old cousin or something. Here's my best theory. Initially, with her first two albums, American record buyers were wondering if Belinda could pull off a solo career, and then when she answered that question in the affirmative, most of the suspense was gone, and suddenly she was just another adult contemporary singer (albeit one with a nutty punk background). Her songs weren't "risky" or "shocking" like Madonna's or Janet's. Whereas in Europe, the Heaven on Earth Belinda was the Belinda they were introduced to, and since Runaway Horses was mostly more of the same, they ate it right up. I guess my point is this: Belinda released three more solo albums in the '90s, and none of them did squat in the U.S., although, in my humble opinion, her music really never got noticeably worse. It's not like she pulled a Queen and switched from anthemic hard rock to sleazy synth-pop. If people liked the shit she had been doing in the '80s, they should have liked the shit she did in the '90s. They kept liking it in Britain! I guess predicting the pop charts is a bit like predicting a runaway horse. Sometimes that horse just leaves the stable, and no matter how much hay you place in the barn, it never comes back.