Friday, November 14, 2008

Club tropicanca birds are free

Some perverse syncronocity is at work, so lets explore the links between three works that perhaps bear no relation to each other yet seem to clump together in my consciousness. Well it's not that they don't share anything... all written in the musical ferment of the early 80s, the wonky new pop influence evident -Club Country (1982) bringing up latent memories of Club Tropicana (1983); picture the scene as the cod flamenco guitars of Alan Rankine strike up, the studios dissolve in a blue haze and past sails George Michael on his lilo, cocktail in hand smiling charmingly at Billy MacKenzie's untamed exotic vocal stylings whilst beside the pool friend Robert Smith dances blissfully, the seeds of Birdmad Girl (1984) being planted inside, he only turning arch cynicism into sweetness. Lets go so far as to suggest that the next link in the chain be La Isla Bonita (1987) only now the sweetness has become cloying, the early stabs at hedonism (even if to sneer) replaced with faux nostalgia for a popstar's dreams...

So my ipod has discovered it's favourite bands to be The Cure and Joy Division. Okay so there is no proof of a conspiracy but sitting here this morning already there have been 5 tracks by the Cure and its not as if they are the most represented band on here... Associates and Japan might enter into fisticuffs to gain THAT title! Not that I'm complaining mind, I have this strange Philip K Dick-inspired idea that the ipod is somehow designed to tap into the feelings emanating from your brain waves so that it tailors the music (when on shuffle) to suit your mood - hence last night when I was feeling a bit down it responsed quite brilliantly with Fight (The Cure) amongst others with it's inspiring lyrics to fight against the gloom that engulfs you in its bitter embrace. Apart from Pornography though - which remains a difficult album for me to digest even in the happiest of moods - I find the Cure strangely uplifting, as with Joy Division, perhaps even with the strange howling of Bauhaus in the flat fields, the recognition that these despondent feelings are not yours alone.

1 comment:

Amy said...

I have to admit, these days I often find myself singing the title of this post under my breath. Lol!