Pet Shop Boys - "West End Girls"

A couple of weeks ago I gave the Pet Shop Boys' Discography a spin, and I was reminded just what an excellent collection that is. I like to think that every generation in the UK has had its own wave of smart, catchy pop. Except for the current generation. I start to feel bad for English kids circa 1986 because they didn't have The Clash, The Jam, The Buzzcocks, Elvis Costello, XTC, Squeeze, etc. (1979) or David Bowie, Elton John, T. Rex, Roxy Music, etc. (1972), or Blur, Oasis, Pulp, Suede, etc. (1994), but then I realize that they had The Smiths, The Cure, New Order, The Jesus & Mary Chain, and The Pet Shop Boys, and I don't feel too bad for them.

Like their contemporaries, I think the Pet Shop Boys managed to perfectly capture their time and place, without even seeming to try too hard. I hear "Opportunities," "It's A Sin," or "Always On My Mind" and I am instantly transported to a late 80s urban clubscape. Although the Pet Shop Boys are very British, I am proud of my fellows Americans (for once) because unlike The Smiths or The Jam or Roxy Music, for some reason the Pet Shop Boys were extremely popular in the United States right from the start. "West End Girls" was a #1 hit here. "What Have I Done To Deserve This" peaked at #2, "It's A Sin" at #9, "Always On My Mind" at #4. Americans displayed some taste for once. All the Pet Shop Boys' biggest American hits were early on, though, and I think that's appropriate, because if you ask me the Discography collection loses steam near the end. While the Pet Shop Boys were always known for their irony and supposed "insincerity," they started laying it on pretty thick after a while. Their later material feels more like a formal writing exercise than a genuine expression of emotion. They started suffering from what you might call "Elvis Costello Syndrome." To me the last truly great single on Discography is "So Hard," which contains this lyrical gem: "I'm always hoping/You'd be faithful/But you're not I suppose/We've both given up smoking/Cause it's fatal/So whose matches are those?" Fey Eurodisco covers of "Where The Streets Have No Name," while enjoyable, can only take me so far. Their earlier singles still had some real menace and melancholy, before their style dived headlong into "nod and a wink" territory. I've never heard any Pet Shop Boys material not on Discography; perhaps someone could make the case that I should.

What I do know is that debut singles rarely come more perfect than "West End Girls" (for a better quality video that also runs the proper length, click here). If it sounds too good to be a debut hit single, that's because it is. Or rather, "West End Girls" was their first single, but not the version that we know and love. Here, for your listening pleasure, is the original version of "West End Girls," released a year earlier and sounding for all the world as though it was performed on a Casio keyboard:



Not bad, but I'm glad they gave it another go-round (Tennant doesn't really seem to maximize the chorus at this point, and what's with the James Brown samples?).

How do I love thee, "West End Girls"? Let me count the ways. The song reminds me of Ezra Pound's "In A Station Of The Metro": "The apparition of these faces in a crowd/Petals on a wet, black bough." Appropriately enough, according to Wikipedia, "The lyrics were inspired by T.S. Eliot's poem The Waste Land, particularly in the use of different narrative voices and arcane references." I like it!

A song that creates such singular visions in my head would not seem to be a likely candidate for a memorable music video. But I have been proven wrong. Here's what I always pictured in my head when I heard the song's beguiling introduction: random strangers walking down cold London streets. Here's what the video actually shows: random strangers walking down cold London streets! Train stations. Neon signs. Rapid cutting. Shots of the Thames. Give it to me. I don't think the Pet Shop Boys themselves necessarily needed to appear in the video, but they do, and they do so in style. One must admit that Neil Tennant is quite photogenic (Chris Lowe, on the other hand, is somehow translucent.). Tennant also does a terrific job of looking at the camera while singing the chorus and then turning his head away longingly for the final "West End Guuhhls..."

1985. London. Can you taste it?

YouTube Clips That Live Up To My Expectations

What a wonderful tool today's bored rock historian has at his disposal! When unlimited access to mp3s simply isn't cutting it, there's unlimited access to old video clips. And not just videos, but concert footage, fan-made films, even the occasional interview excerpt. A small minority of these clips are a waste of time. The overall majority are interesting, but nothing you'd want to watch more than once or twice. But then there are those certain clips that perfectly manage to capture everything you love about that song, or that band, or that song coming from that band at that particular time and place. These are what I would call "YouTube clips that live up to my expectations."

Although the combination of music and video has been popular for a long time, I've generally felt that music videos are a let-down. They tend not to match the more interesting images in my head. Unlike my fellow blogger Zrbo, I did not grow up with MTV. In most cases I have spent at least a decade or two becoming intimately familiar with the recording of a song while having no knowledge of its video. Perhaps part of my lack of enthusiasm for the art of video is simply based on my previous lack of access to it, i.e. "Well, I can't watch the video, but it probably sucks anyway so hopefully I'm not missing out on anything too good."

Well those days are over. Now that I've started watching many of the videos I may have missed, though, I have to say I don't think I was too far off in my judgment. But every once in a while, there are exceptions. A great band treats a video as simply another extension of their art, the way that they treat album covers, liner notes, and interviews. It becomes part of their image. Sometimes a band really manages to just nail it. I will see a clip and think, "This is everything I hoped it would be and more."

For example: R.E.M.'s "Radio Free Europe" (embedding is disabled so I have to link it; it's also mislabeled as "Driver 8" but ignore that). For me this video perfectly encapsulates what makes early R.E.M. so unique and distinctive. College. The South. Jangly things. Like Murmur, it's brooding and moody and yet so indecipherable it retains an odd, humorous touch. I can really imagine some kid up late at night in his dorm room in 1983 catching this clip on TV and thinking, "Who the hell are these guys?," and yet wanting to know the answer. "It's not quite mainstream rock, but it's not quite underground punk. It's not Toto, and it's not Minor Threat. What is it?" In other words, I think, my friends, that they nailed it.

We Are The World, But Who The Hell Are These People?

Seriously folks, does anyone know who the hell these people are? And how the hell did they get Michael Jackson to appear?? (which coincidentally might be the only decent part of the whole song, too bad it was the part recorded 25 years ago) And they let Lil Wayne use Autotune? WTF is going on? All I know is that Jamie Foxx really wants you to care.

America Is Like The Raiders

A while back I came up with the greatest sports/politics metaphor ever constructed. If you are not familiar with the recent history of the Oakland Raiders, I'm sorry, you'll just have to do some research on Google. If I have to explain it, it's not as funny.

Obama is like Tom Cable. He can only do so much given the hand he's been dealt. He may have some skill and talent as a coach, but he's stuck under the weight of his own organization.

The American people are like Al Davis. Their once-great sense of what it takes to win is on the decline. Even when they're losing, they're too proud and stubborn to make the necessary changes, because that would mean admitting they were wrong. They pick a guy to coach their team, but they have completely unrealistic expectations and they get insulted when he actually tries to make some painful decisions that could probably give the team a better chance of winning.

The Republicans are like JaMarcus Russell. They're fat and lazy and they don't even know how to throw the damn ball. Tom Cable (Obama) is trying to build a winning team, but Al Davis (the American people) is forcing him to deal with the world's shittiest quarterback (Republicans) in order to do it, because Al Davis (the American people) has no idea what the hell he's doing anymore and he likes it that way.

And thus, the team keeps on losing.

Flaming Eels Out Of Your Butt

Excerpts from Pitchfork's interview with Flaming Lips frontman Wayne Coyne:

Pitchfork: What movie do you think Embryonic would go well with?

WC: The movies that triggered some of the imagery while we were actually making Embryonic were these two weird movies that are sort of about S&M and obsessive sexual freak-out behavior: The Night Porter, this Italian Nazi movie, and Last Tango in Paris. I must have been considering these elements of pleasure and pain and masochistic shit. Why not? I'm an adult, I can do that.

Pitchfork: Wasn't Last Tango in Paris pretty controversial when it came out?

WC: Yeah, the most controversial scene is when Marlon Brando has that woman put butter on her fist and stick it up his ass. Even though you don't really get to see it, that's always kind of brutal. It's not like watching stuff on the internet now, where people actually do these things, which isn't really fun at all. But the way they do it-- with good lighting and nice-looking people and good music-- it's still disturbing. Context changes everything. You know, when you stick things up your ass, context takes precedent. [laughs]

Pitchfork: Do you watch those kind of videos online?

WC: No matter who you are, you'll run into somebody who'll be like, "Jesus, you gotta see this video!" and there'll be some woman squirting eels out of her ass or something. In some ways I think it's funny. We live in good times; we can watch something like that and get on with our day. I mean, I don't want to have a woman squirting eels out of her butt while I'm there, but I'll watch it on video for 20 seconds.

The "My Way" Killings

So I just read in the NYTimes that singing "My Way" can get you killed in the Philippines. Eat your heart out Sara Vowell*:

"The killings have produced urban legends about the song and left Filipinos groping for answers. Are the killings the natural byproduct of the country’s culture of violence, drinking and machismo? Or is there something inherently sinister in the song?"

Well I have my theory...but go read the article for some theories about why this song in particular evokes so much violence.

"Karaoke-related killings are not limited to the Philippines. In the past two years alone, a Malaysian man was fatally stabbed for hogging the microphone at a bar and a Thai man killed eight of his neighbors in a rage after they sang John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads.”"

Now this I can understand. "My Way" is one thing, but eight of your neighbors insisting on singing John Denver? Who amongst us wouldn't feel the urge to kill?

The article gets even weirder when sexual politics enters the mix:

"A subset of karaoke bars with G.R.O.’s — short for guest relations officers, a euphemism for female prostitutes — often employ gay men, who are seen as neutral, to defuse the undercurrent of tension among the male patrons. Since the gay men are not considered rivals for the women’s attention — or rivals in singing, which karaoke machines score and rank — they can use humor to forestall macho face-offs among the patrons."

So the gay men are neutral? Or they're exempt from the machismo pressure to be an asshole?

*If you don't get this reference you should listen to "This American Life" on public radio more often. Before Sinatra's death Sara Vowell begged media figures everywhere not to play "My Way" when the old guy finally went to that nightclub in the sky.

Herr Zrbo: Professional Reviewer?

Folks, I just might be famous now. How famous? Internet famous. In one of my classes we're currently learning some advanced Google commands. One Google command, [link:], shows all the other websites that link to that site. Naturally I wanted to see if anyone was following the ol' blog here, when I discovered just how famous I am. I stumbled across the site musicfolio.com where to my surprise they've quoted my review of VNV Nation's Reformation 01 as if I were some actual respected authority. Oh yes folks, as they say on the internet i am teh famous. Don't believe me? Check it out right here (about 3/4 down the page). Eat your heart out Erlewine.

Where The Wild Things Are (Jonze)

Things I liked about this movie:

1) It wasn't written by committee
2) It didn't sugarcoat the situations it presented
3) The monsters looked like real monsters and not like lazy CGI creations (even though apparently some CGI was used), i.e. I just plain enjoyed looking at the monsters
4) It didn't have an obvious target audience
5) It didn't throw in a bunch of cringe-inducing pop culture references destined to become dated in three years

Things I didn't like about this movie:

1) The story seems forced. The original book is only about nine sentences long. It seems like Dave Eggers wanted to write an "edgy" children's movie, but he didn't really generate enough of a plot for a full-length film. It's as though Eggers and Jonze thought of the challenge first, and then the story second. As a result the movie feels a little unnecessary.
2) Jonze does a little too much of that "shakey-cam" thing. What happened to keeping your camera still, people?
3) I didn't think the "indie-folk" soundtrack fit the visual look of the film and I don't think it will age well. But I'm not much of an indie-folk guy anyway.

In summary: I liked the idea of this movie more than the actual movie itself. Which seems to be happening a lot lately.

Film critic rating: **1/2
Little Earl rating: **1/2

Now With Less Spam

Okay, I turned on "word verification" so we should have less spam. I sort of like the foreign spam. It's comforting in a strange way. How alone can any of us be if some spam program is trying to post advertisements to our blog at 2am?

But You Can't Dub A Red Stapler

I rarely watch movies on cable, and a couple of days ago I was reminded of why I do not. I was flipping through channels when I suddenly stumbled upon a bit of Office Space. Was it TNT? Comedy Central? E!? No matter. What does matter is that it made me realize how much a well-placed curse word can really add to the impact of a finely-honed comedic film. Or, by the same token, how much a poorly-dubbed curse word can really zap the appeal of a finely-honed comedic film. For example: take the classic scene in which wannabe frat boy co-worker Drew provides Peter with sudden doubts about his girlfriend. Here is how the scene plays in the theatrical release:

Drew: Hey, isn't that the girl that works over at Chotchkie's?
Peter Gibbons: Yeah.
Drew: Hmmm. Who's she here with?
Peter Gibbons: She's with me.
Drew: Really?
Peter Gibbons: Yeah.
Drew: All right, Peter! Ooh! Ooh! Right on... Make sure you wear a rubber, dude.
Peter Gibbons: Why is that, Drew?
Drew: Are you kidding me? She gets around. All right?
Peter Gibbons: She does, does she?
Drew: Oh, yeah. Like a record.
Peter Gibbons: Like, with who?
Drew: Oh, let's see, uh... Hell, Lumbergh fucked her.

Now here is the last part of that scene as it plays out on cable television:

Drew: Are you kidding me? She gets around. All right?
Peter Gibbons: She does, does she?
Drew: Oh, yeah. Like a record.
Peter Gibbons: Like, with who?
Drew: Oh, let's see, uh... Hell, Lumbergh had her.

"Had" her? "Had" her? I can't work with that. Now take the scene in which the three main protagonists are hatching their plan to install an embezzling virus into the computer system at Initech. The theatrical release version:

Peter Gibbons: [discussing the possibility of going to prison] This isn't Riyadh. You know they're not gonna saw your hands off here, alright? The worst they would ever do is they would put you for a couple of months into a white-collar, minimum-security resort! ... Do you know, they have conjugal visits there?
Samir: Really?
Peter Gibbons: Yes.
Michael Bolton: Shit. I'm a free man and I haven't had a conjugal visit in six months.

Now the cable TV version:

Peter Gibbons: Do you know, they have conjugal visits there?
Samir: Really?
Peter Gibbons: Yes.
Michael Bolton: Slime. I'm a free man and I haven't had a conjugal visit in six months.

"Slime"? "Slime"? Really now. I have the feeling that not even eight-year-olds use "slime" as an expletive anymore.

In some cases the dubbing is so creative it almost becomes an extra joke. Cable has turned Michael Bolton's "We get caught laundering money, we're not going to white-collar resort prison, no, no, no, we're going to federal pound me in the ass prison" into "We get caught laundering money, we're not going to white-collar resort prison, no, no, no, we're going to federal pound me into ash prison." Pound me into ash, eh? Sounds like a pretty rough prison. Sure wouldn't want to be pounded into ash.

I never realized how integral profanity was to a movie, even to a seemingly inoffensive, reasonably intellectual comedy such as Office Space, until I watched it on cable. Cable even ruins the poetic last scene in which Peter finds some redemptive solace in his new construction job. He declares, "This isn't so bad, huh? Makin' bucks, gettin' exercise, workin' outside." His delightfully uncouth neighbor (and new co-worker) Lawrence exclaims, "Fuckin' A." Peter takes a long, deep breath and replies, in a comically formal tone, "Fuckin' ... A." Cable turns this into:

Peter Gibbons: This isn't so bad, huh? Makin' bucks, gettin' exercise, workin' outside.
Lawrence: Freakin' A.
Peter Gibbons: [nods] Freakin' ... A.

They even massacred the ending. Freakin' A.