In the pink (Summer soundtrack #5)

It's OK, Duran Duran, your secret's safe with me: You basically ... let's be kind and say "co-opted" ... late '70s Roxy Music's style, sound, wardrobe, and lyrical content for your first, I dunno, five or six albums. But I forgive you.

This past Sunday, I went shopping, mainly for shoes but for other clothes as well. In my never-ending quest to get outside of my own self-induced ruts, I went into a store I normally don't visit: Le Château, a Montréal-based clothing store chair that has locations in Toronto and across Le Canada. What drew me in was this beautiful soft pink suit--not unlike something Bryan Ferry would've worn in 1979 or Simon Le Bon in 1983. And while I coveted it, I realized, too, that at 57, this is a dream best left to the past.

To tell the truth, I couldn't have worn it in the past either because I'd have been way too self-conscious. Not because of the pink color per se, although I do not look particularly appealing in pastels. But let's face it: I was never a pretty man, not in an '80s blond highlights, triangle-shaped face, androgynous features, Patrick Nagel print kind of way.

It was likely a painful realization at the time. But now? Well, now I seem content with some comfortable shoes, stretchy-waist cotton trousers, and checked and plaid easy-care shirts. The mighty have fallen, perhaps, but the mighty are a heckuva lot more comfortable than they were throughout much of the 1970s, the '80s, the '90s, the '00s, and probably even last week.

Dance away

Admittedly, I went a bit crazy with the Roxy Music homage this week--but, obviously, from the video above, I haven't stopped just yet. I should have definitely included "Dance Away," the big hit from their 1979 release, Manifesto, in my top ten moments in Rox-'n'-Roll history--a gorgeous pop tune with a haunting sound and poignant lyrics, such as--

It's funny how I could never cry/
Until that night when you passed by/
Hand in hand with another guy/
You're dressed to kill/
And guess who's dying?

Loneliness is a crowded room/
Full of open hearts that turn to stone/
All together all alone

There was I many times a fool/
I hope and pray--but not too much/
Out of reach is out of touch/
All the way is far enough

Yes, it's very romantic, maybe even a tad too too, but "Dance Away" is a precious little gem of an unheralded pop song, at least in my opining. Like I said about the discofied remix of "Angel Eyes," it might represent something of the beginning of the end for Ye Olde Roxy Music and the birth of NuRoxy--and you'd be perfectly fine in lamenting that, depending on your taste in such musical matters. NuRoxy was decidedly not Old Roxy, and while NuRoxy and Bryan Ferry solo transitioned successfully to a new, more glamorous era, some spark, some quaintness, some vitality of Old Roxy might have been lost in the metamorphosis. The caterpillar became a gorgeous butterfly, but the caterpillar itself was quite beautiful in its own right.

But what's past is past. It's no longer 1979. Or so I keep reminding myself.

Anyway, maybe this past week, Valentine's week, predisposed me to Roxy memories, placing me in a romantic, wistful, slightly mournful frame. For there were sharp reminders this week, little pricks (but not those kind of pricks) to my tender consciousness, that I am single again.

Normally, I do not necessarily mind this. I have been single before and, in fact, have spent most of my adolescent and adult lives being single. I do like it, maybe even prefer it at times, as it affords me a freedom that I would often rather have than be settled in with someone or some situation that limits or restricts me.

Let's be clear here: I'm not talking about having limitless sexual freedom. While I'm no Promise Ring-tonedeaf virgin, sex for me has primarily been about the expression of love, affection, communion, and even creativity, than it's ever been about a relentless physical need, frustration, conquest, challenge, goal, habit, or hobby. I find most people's expression of unlimited sexual freedom to be . . . actually rather limited. Personally, I know I do better being with someone I like, love, and trust--or at the very least have some sort of mental or personal connection with, not just a physical attraction to. Only then do I feel free.

Although every need has its place, its need to be met, and sometimes those needs need to be met sooner rather than later, love or no love, trust aside, caution to the wind, one way or another.

Ahem and amen.

I think what's really more important to me is the freedom to think, feel, explore, and be myself. I don't believe I'm that out there or radical in my thinking, constantly pushing toward the horizon and beyond to some personal Valhalla. No, I inhabit a rather more conventional world, some middle sphere, Swedish Third Way, intersex textuality (figuratively speaking) between the conventional and the radical, the traditional and the libertine. I'm not at home in either extreme climate, which makes it very difficult to find the right level of temperature in the either/or thermostat of our binary mindset.

And I've never found--or never found for long enough--someone else who occupies that same plane. Or maybe I just didn't stay still long enough to realize what I might have found.

So why suddenly all this candy-hearts-and-sad-lovesongs emotion? Well, it was a week, a week of trying to explain in French that I was "célibataire" (which means both single and celibate), of old boyfriends suddenly reappearing out of the mists of time, of underscored frustrations in life and work, and of course, Roxy Music.

Normally, this would get to me, but maybe only briefly and not so acutely. What's different now is that I'm 50 and single, I'm 50 and most of my friends live elsewhere, and I'm 50 and get more of my social interaction with my contemporaries online rather than in person. All very modern, I suppose, but not always a satisfying replacement for the real thing.

What's different at 50 is that I find myself to be a more relationship-oriented person yet realize that I am a person one who has rarely been in a relationship over the last 50 years.


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Editor's note: This posting was originally much longer. I've clipped it here and hope to rework the other part into future postings. Patience . . .

Slave to Roxy

Well, I can't just do one post about Bryan Ferry and walk away, as if that's all I have to say. No. Roxy Music has been part of my musical history since at least the mid-'70s.

Great moments in my personal Roxy Music history #1: "Love Is the Drug"

The first Roxy song I ever remember hearing was "Love Is the Drug" on radio, circa the mid-1970s in North Carolina. It wasn't a huge hit in the U.S., but it is a totally unforgettable song.



To me, Rod Stewart owes scads to Roxy Music: "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy" seems like a mere sloppy disco reworking of this tune.

I have no idea what's up with the eye patch and the wardrobe (dear BF looks like he's a member of the Women's Air Corps in those epaulets and that cinched, high-waisted pants), but Bryan Ferry was always about style. Not necessarily good style in this case, but style of some sort.

Great moments in my personal Roxy Music history #2: "Tokyo Joe"



"Toyko Joe" was a 1977 or so solo effort by Bryan Ferry, after Roxy's first break (up). I remember hearing this on the BBC World Service Top 20 in 1977 or so--a fantastic year for popular music, with punk and disco at their peaks. "Tokyo Joe" to me sounds like it's trying to do a bit of both--a strong, funky baseline and beneath squirrelly vocals and lyrics. Vaguely reminding me of "Miss You" by the Rolling Stones. Or not

Great moments in my personal Roxy Music history #3: "Virginia Plain"



Early Roxy and "Virginia Plain," which I discovered after hearing Bryan Ferry solo in the '70s but before I was exposed to all the lush New Romanticism that came later, both in group and solo form. I really didn't (and still don't) know much about early Roxy, but two things led me to the discovery of their life before 1975.

One being reading an interview with Kate Bush in which she listed "early Roxy" as music she had enjoyed when she was younger--the stress being on "early" as opposed to "contemporary" (early '80s), after they'd gone all lush-life.

Two being hearing a re-release of "Virginia Plain" on the BBC sometime in the late '70s. Although Roxy was considered something of a glam act in 1972, there are elements here--the quirky vocals, the industrial sounds, the bleating horns--that make me think of punk. But what do I know?

Great moments in my personal Roxy Music history #4 and #5: "Angel Eyes"--both versions

Version #1 was featured on the album Manifesto, which I bought on vinyl my senior year of high school. I'm sure I was the only kid at Swansboro H.S. that owned that album--along with the complete back catalog of ABBA and Donna Summer, as well as some Blondie, the Stranglers, and Ian Dury and the Blockheads, to name a few.

Here's version 1 (no video), a much more rock-and-roll affair--



And here's version #2, a much glossier rendez-vous, ridiculously so, but absolutely gorgeous in all its discofied, flamboyant glamour--



I don't know what they were thinking when they recorded this version and made this video--it seems like the complete antithesis of early Roxy and probably represents something of the beginning of the end, at least if you loved old Roxy and hated the nu, improved version.

Still the video does seem like the coming together of so much Roxy style, so many Roxy album photos, all of which featured the top glamour-girls of the era, such as Jerry Hall and Amanda Lear ("girls" of the era, I should say, if the stories are true about Amanda Lear). In that sense, they were being consistent style-wise, but musically, they were already moving on to New Romanticism.

The gods help me, I was once in love with a man who wore a pastel lavender suit in a music video.

Great moments in my personal Roxy Music history #6: "Jealous Guy"



This, I believe, was done as a tribute to John Lennon, after his death in 1981. The NuRoxy visual style is in full force, the sound slicker, Bryan Ferry's Joe Crocker imitation is unfaltering, and despite the great hair, you know it's all going to end badly--he'll be looking like an old drunken Tyne & Wear type by the time he's fifty. Although, truth be told, he's well past that now and still looks fab. Dammit, I'm just a "jealous guy" myself.

But let's not overthink it: This is a lovely tribute to the late John Lennon.

Great moments in my personal Roxy Music history #7, #8, #9, #10, and beyond? Hey, well, just check out any of the tracks from Avalon, plus ones from his mid-'80s solo albums, Bȇte Noire and Boys and Girls.

If forced to get specific, then I'd readily recommend listening to "Slave to Love" and imagine it playing in the background of a scene from the British soap, EastEnders, as the characters Simon, Cindy, Sharon, and Ian double-date--only Sharon and Ian don't realize that their respective partners, Simon and Cindy, are lovesick for each other.

Kinda a perfect pop culture moment--and much more personal and emotional than the actual video for "Slave to Love," appearing below.



Not EastEnders, alas. This is strictly Dynasty.

Pity, that.

England's ruse

Oddly, while scoping out other Glen Campbell songs on YouTube,--namely, "Rhinestone Cowboy," one I never really liked at the time or even now--I was re-introduced to this early '80s, New Romantic jewel--"Avalon" by Roxy Music.

I've always loved this song (the whole album in fact) and the mood it evokes: One of romance, wistfulness, the blush of love, and heart-aching, dewy beauty of it all. I remember once reading that Avalon (the album) was the Great Dorm Room Make-Out Album of 1982, and having enjoyed dorm life in the early '80s, well, I can testify--but will never kiss and tell.

I have fond memories of the videos from the album, especially the one above, which received pretty decent rotation on early MTV, if I recall correctly. There was just something about that era that made Britain seem incredibly cool, suave, lovely, and stylish. A place of beauty and sophistication, where love with a slick-haired crooner in a white dinner jacket was simply a dance away. Videos like this certainly contributed to that impression, at least in my easily impressed psyche.

I wouldn't first visit England until 1993, then again in 2005, well past the New Romantic era, and well, let's just say that while I enjoyed my time there, it was no Roxy Music video circa 1982. (A Benny Hill video from 1982? Well, that's another matter for another post . . .)

But then again, a Roxy Music video from 1982 isn't the same Roxy Music video in 2012.

By that I mean, perceptions change. What seemed amazing, beautiful, cultured, and incredibly romantic in its day, now just looks like any ol' perfume advert.

So which came first, Roxy Music's neo-samba pretensions or Dior's 30-second elegant lifestyle commercials trying to get you to, oh by the way, buy a few liters of some perfume? Classic poulet vs. oeuf, that.

Anyway, I had a mad crush on Bryan Ferry for ages, and he's still cranking out the occasional romantic, melancholy cocktail of style and preciousness. I've even bought a few of them over the years.

But while I miss that era--the innocence, the charm, the style, the possibilities, and, god yes, my youth--watching this video, listening to this song, makes me wonder . . . was it all just a big fat stripey marketing lie? Nothing more than the selling of a lifestyle, the telling of tall, beautiful tales about "hauntingly beautiful" but vacant supermodels, along with the vending of a lot of vinyl, hair gel, cars, and clothes?

It sure looks that way, at least from the vantage of 2012.

I still love you, Roxy. I still swoon to you, Avalon. You were always how I wanted to see myself, aspired to be. Cool Britannia.

But maybe I'm more that kid on the couch in a small, suburban tract house, nestled among his sibs and parents, watching performances of "Wichita Lineman" on The Glen Campbell Good-Time Hour or "Harper Valley P.T.A." on The Porter Wagoner Show. Or was. And might wish to be again some day, if only for a moment.

Nevertheless, despite the desire to return to a less crazy, more hazy-golden era, I would pay hard cash to get "Rhinestone Cowboy" unstuck from my head right now.

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Oh, who am I kidding. I would *so* tell if Bryan Ferry had ever been involved in the kissing.