Better Than Being Addicted To Hate, Right?

But ... hey ... come on, man! That's not even a real band. Those girls can barely even play. This whole thing is a farce, I tell you, a sham!

I wonder what it would actually be like to be "addicted" to love. Is it expensive? Could you OD? Is there a Love-a-holics Anonymous? I just hope it's not as brutal as, say, having a bad case of loving you.

But I digress. If the other members of the Power Station thought their little supergroup was in it for the long haul, Robert Palmer had other ideas. According to Wikipedia, the band booked a tour, but after one performance on Saturday Night Live, Palmer decided that, you know, since he was now such a hot commodity, maybe it was the perfect time to ... record another solo album. And he was right! This may not have bothered the band, but according to Wikipedia, it didn't sit too well with the music press:

When Palmer bailed on the tour, some critics referred to it as "unprofessional behaviour". In Number One magazine, he hit back at the claims he joined the band for money: "Firstly, I didn't need the money and, secondly the cash wasn't exactly a long time coming. It wasn't exactly an experience that set me up for retirement." He was also accused of ripping off the Power Station sound for his own records. He snapped: "Listen, I gave The Power Station that sound. They took it from me, not the other way around."

Don't incite the Palmer! You may not come back in one piece. At any rate, wasn't Palmer the last member to join? Enough of this he said/she said: the bottom line is that, with drumming from Tony Thompson, bass playing from Power Station producer (and, like Thompson, former Chic member) Bernard Edwards, and guitar from Andy Taylor, "Addicted to Love" might as well have been the new Power Station single. Unless you watched the video, that is.

Because in the video for "Addicted to Love," there's no doubt who's in charge here. And, funny enough, the other guys are ... nowhere to be found! Hmmmm, that doesn't look like Andy Taylor on lead guitar there. And you can't seriously convince me that that's Tony Thompson on the skins. Why, these are just a bunch of ... models! What is this, some kind of a ... some kind of a joke? From Wikipedia: "The video features Palmer performing the song with an abstract 'band', being a group of female models whose pale skin, heavy makeup, dark hair and seductive, rather mannequin-like expression follow the style of women in Patrick Nagel paintings."

Patrick Nagel, you say? Think Duran Duran's Rio, or the walls of any neighborhood hair salon. I'm guessing some people find this look "hot," but, personally, I find it slightly disturbing. I mean, I want a guitarist who will keep me warm at night, not eat bats in my attic. I have to say, however, that on another day, I might go for the keyboardist, and maybe the guitarist to Palmer's right. According to VH-1's Pop-Up Video, "a musician was hired to teach the models basic fingering techniques, but 'gave up after about an hour and left'." Oh Lord.

Favorite YouTube comments:

man did he film this in his living room?

I suspect the musicians are not playing their instruments here.

If you watch this video closely, you'll see Robert Palmer.

What makes the video is how serious Palmer is and how he stays in character. That, and the girl licking her lips.

Some say those women are still standing there dancing like that.

Step 1. Look at the drummer in the wide shots
Step 2. Laugh your arse off
Step 3. Repeat

Suffice to say, everyone from Tone Loc to Shania Twain has paid homage to the video, but no one has done it quite the way Sonic Youth side project Ciccone Youth did on 1989's The Whitey Album. Here we have Kim Gordon apparently singing along live to a budget version blasting out of a Macy's karaoke booth, which might explain why the playing sounds more competent than usual, and why the backing vocalist carries a tune better than Thurston Moore. Am I crazy, or is this like, the best thing they ever did?

Less hipster, but equally absurd, would be Weird Al's take. No one can deflate a nonsensical lyrical conceit and a male singer's veneer of suave machismo like Weird Al, who manages to turn the song's dubious metaphor into a tale of literal addiction. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you ... "Addicted to Spuds":

Potato skins, potato cakes
Hash browns, and instant flakes
Baked or boiled, or french fried
There's no kind you haven't tried

You planned a trip to Idaho
Just to watch potatoes grow
I understand how you must feel
I can't deny they've got appeal

You like them whether they are plain or they're stuffed, oh yeah
Better face the facts, it seems you can't get enough
You know, you're gonna have to face it
You're addicted to spuds

Your greasy hands, your salty lips
Looks like you found the chips
Your belly aches, your teeth grind
Some tater tots would blow your mind

And you don't mind if they're not cooked
You need your fix, I guess you're hooked
And late at night you always dream
Of bacon bits and sour cream

You like them even if they're lumpy or tough, oh yeah
Well it's pretty obvious to me you can't get enough
You know you're gonna have to face it
You're addicted to spuds

I'm givin' up, it's just no use
Another case of spud abuse
What can I say, what can I do
Potato bug has got me too

I used to hate them, now they're all that I eat, oh yeah
Well, I've often seen then whipped, but they just can't be beat
Now I'm gonna have to face it
I'm addicted to spuds

Most groan inducing puns: "I can't deny they've got appeal"; "Potato bug has got me too"; "I've often seen them whipped but they just can't be beat." Oy gevalt. Not being a doctor, I can't honestly say whether or not he's truly addicted to spuds, but I will say this: he's definitely addicted to bad puns.

"Take Me Home Tonight": Two Comebacks In One!

At least Johnny Cash's real last name was actually Cash. Not quite so for one Edward Joseph Mahoney, son of an NYPD cop who almost followed in his father's footsteps until the siren song of cheesy bar band rock came calling. "Baby Hold On," "Two Tickets To Paradise," "Think I'm In Love" ... sometimes the key to fulfilling all your musical ambitions is to have very low ambitions.

And here's a question for you: can you call it a "comeback" if you actually weren't that big to begin with? Eddie Money probably didn't care what people called it as long it put some of, you know, his own name in the bank account.

He needed a single that summoned up the appropriate aura of '80s late night urban desperation and Wagnerian malaise. Initially, "Take Me Home Tonight" doesn't sound like that single, with its generic stew of mushy keyboards and jangly-but-not-quite-jangly-enough guitar, followed by a mood-setting "Oh-ohhh-ooooh-oh-wuh-ohhh" and an imitation Asian synth lick. What the hell is this, the Vapors' "Turning Japanese"? In enters the man of the hour, sounding like your neighborhood Springsteen-with-a-meth-addiction, and apparently he hasn't eaten all day:

I feel a hunger, it's a hunger
That tries to keep a man awake at night
Are you the answer? I shouldn't wonder
When I feel you whet my appetite

Dude, find a Sizzler. Or a Denny's.

With all the power you're releasing
It isn't safe to walk the city streets alone
Anticipation's running through me
Let's find the key and turn this engine on

I can feel you breathe
I can feel your heart beat faster

Eddie, this town rips the bones from your back, it's a death trap, it's a suicide rap, you gotta get out while you're young ... wait, never mind. The point is, Eddie isn't hungry for food, or even meth: he's hungry for escape. The bridge suggests the promise of change, of that glimpse of something better just around the corner, complete with tacky echo on "faster," but based on what you've heard so far, you know, come on, how much better could it really be? You're figuring Eddie Money probably doesn't have it in him.

But wrong you are. Right at the 1:02 mark, he delivers the goods. Oh SHIIIIT. YEAHHH BABY. That is what I'm talkin' about. You thought you had a chorus? That ain't a chorus. This is a chorus. Those guitar chords are like the sound of an American flag making love to a Harley-Davidson ... on the White House lawn. It's Eddie Money reaching deep down inside himself, knowing that nothing less than the catchiest, most anthemic chorus in the world could salvage the shattered remnants of his pathetic career, and it's sitting right there in his pocket, and he's like, "You think I'm all out of bar band hooks, don't you? Don't you? Well get a load of this." It is, if you will, the song's "Money" shot.

Actually, he didn't write the song, and he didn't even like the song. But he did have one suggestion: if they were going to do an interpolation of "Be My Baby," they might as well get the original singer of "Be My Baby" to sing it.

And just what was Ronnie Spector up to anyways? She had last been seen in the mid-'70s, fleeing the infamous mansion of her soon-to-be ex-husband, where she had reportedly been held hostage in her own home for years on end, not even allowed to pick up the groceries. Guess it's hard to focus on your recording career when you're recovering from the trauma of a marriage to Phil Spector, you know? According to Wikipedia, in 1986, Eddie Money called her and asked her what she was doing. She answered, "Washing the dishes."

So that's the thing. This chorus is already soaring like a bald eagle that's just inhaled a tank of liberty helium, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, Ronnie comes in, taking you back to those hot summer days on a Brooklyn street corner, playing stickball and beating up some Italian kid with a trashcan lid. It's like the flavor of the "new" (slickly-produced '80s arena rock) with a sprinkling of the "old" (critically unimpeachable early '60s girl group pop). You can't lose.

And if you're going to reference an oldie like that, why be subtle about it? At 2:22, not only does Ronnie come back in, but also the "Be My Baby" drumbeat, and even the damn castanets! At this point you're probably thinking to yourself, "Yeah, that's all pretty solid, but what this song really needs right now is for all the instruments to just suddenly drop out, and then all we'd hear is that sweet, sweet chorus again, with Eddie's shaggy dog wail and that crunchy-ass riff."

Witness 2:37.

The fade-out features the former Miss Veronica Bennett double-tracking her vocals and performing just about every aspect of the "Be My Baby" chorus she hasn't already touched. Rock 'n' Roll never dies, all right - it just cashes in on cheap oldies nostalgia. "Take Me Home Tonight" found a home at #4 on the Hot 100.

The video looks like it was filmed in between bouts at a boxing arena, with all the budget "Eddie" money perhaps going toward the (admittedly appealing) black and white film stock. Are Eddie and Ronnie about to face off in the ring? If so, personally, my money's on Eddie. At first it seems like one of those videos where the two performers had scheduling issues and couldn't appear on the set at the same time: Ronnie sits in the dressing room, putting out her cigarette butt with her shoe, while Eddie fondles a ladder on stage. We see her slinking her way down the hallway in silhouette, shrouded in smoke. The massive door of the arena begins to lift. Who's that ghostly figure in the darkness - E.T.? Finally, at 2:42, we get a close-up. It's Ronnie! She made it! Well of course she made it, what the hell else was she doing, washing the dishes? Still, you never quite see them standing together. I'm thinking they might have used a double in the long shots. Also note: Eddie apparently does his own sax duty. Check out the whirlwind montage at about 2:33, where singer blows into saxophone, rips open shirt, grabs saxophone (which somehow is not in his hands anymore?), hoists saxophone, and lets the chorus fly. Soak it in, Eddie: this time you've truly earned your financial sobriquet.

Mr. Panayiotou Goes To Beijing

Just as Admiral Perry cracked open Japan, just as Nixon sat face to face with Mao, one heroic Western pop group was destined to bring the decadent, rebellious sounds of rock and roll to an oppressive East. Was it the Beatles? The Stones? Dylan? The Beach Boys?

Pfft, they wished. The group to break Communism's iron grip on Chinese mass culture...

...was Wham!

Say "Ni-Hao" to the reign of the Michael dynasty. I wonder what the Mandarin translation for "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" is. That's right. In 1985, Red China got its first taste of Pasty White British Guys. But were they ready? Could they handle the wild, unhinged attitude of ... Wham!? According to Wikipedia, the People's Republic came this close to being treated to actual rock and roll, if it hadn't been for the machinations of Wham!'s crafty co-manager:

In March 1985, Wham! took a break from recording to embark on a lengthy world tour, including a ground-breaking 10-day visit to China, the first by a Western pop group. The China excursion was a publicity scheme devised by Simon Napier-Bell (one of their two managers—Jazz Summers being the other). It culminated in a concert at the Workers' Gymnasium in Beijing in front of 15,000 people. Wham!'s visit to China attracted huge media attention across the world. Napier-Bell later admitted that he used cunning tactics to sabotage the efforts of rock group Queen to be the first to play in China. He made two brochures for the Chinese authorities - one featuring Wham! fans as pleasant middle-class youngsters, and one portraying Queen singer Freddie Mercury in typically flamboyant poses. The Chinese opted for Wham!

OK, OK, who in Queen's management allowed Wham!'s manager to produce a brochure on behalf of both artists? I mean really now. Did they honestly think the other guy would just be a neutral party? This one was on Queen if you ask me.

Well, the Chinese authorities obviously dodged a bullet there, because unlike Freddie Mercury, George Michael was just a wholesome, clean-cut old-fashioned British male. Nope, nothing subversive or unusual about this pop star, folks. A perfect role model for millions of impressionable young Chinese children to emulate. "Western popular music is just fine, kids, as long as you do it just like this nice, normal Mr. Michael does it, OK"?

While not quite up there with Woodstock and Gimme Shelter, the VHS concert release Foreign Skies, directed by leftist '60s British art-house filmmaker/documentarian Lindsay Anderson (!), is nevertheless a riveting portrait of a live musical powerhouse at its peak. Never before has a concert film featured:

• Martial arts sequences set to Wham!'s "Bad Boys" (6:36)
• The sexiest photo shoot ever taken at the Great Wall (7:42)
• Michael and Ridgeley, as guests of the British ambassador, discussing the finer points of foreign policy, presumably between games of croquet (12:26)
• A media spokesman explaining, in response to a question about how many people were in the "band," that Wham! featured "two main singers"; something must have gotten lost in translation? (15:48)
• The world's most appalled security guard, clearly not being able to comprehend the spectacle of "Everything She Wants" being performed right in front of him (45:26)

As for the climactic performance, it's impressive how Andrew Ridgeley, here in his "picnic blanket" phase, manages to play his guitar without its being plugged in. Also, China may have been ready for Wham!, but were they truly ready for ... Pepsi and Shirley?

The concert even features a number called "Blue" (sounding to me like the evil step-sister of "Nothing Looks The Same In the Light" from their first album) which Wham! never actually recorded in the studio. Instead, they threw the live version from China onto their farewell album The Final/Music From The Edge Of Heaven. Don't you see? Without that Beijing concert, a key piece of Wham! history would have been lost forever.



So what does Professor Higglediggle make of this watershed moment in Sino-Anglo relations?:

Turning once again to the mark of the "other," Wham! proceeded to break from Western hetero-orthodoxy and, in the words of Jacques Brisson, "transcend the theoretical breach." Posing as a British pop duo, Wham! could not overcome the stigma of co-optation and ritual (in)vocation. Yet in this very failure to bridge the tension between West and East, Michael and Ridgeley demonstrated an affinity for class antagonism, their gesture of outreach potentially (circum)navigating the unwritten "code" of diplomacy, which is to never, in the common lingua franca, bring a saxophone player. Here we see, as argued by Simone Digeau-Nille in A Sexuality of The Asexual, the power of persuasive Western iconography, as represented by wimpy synth-pop, to shake the (Far) Eastern axis of post-dialectical Marxist thought in a "symbolic" and "binary" manner, only to succumb to the subtraction of its own self-negated ideas.