Posts from 19th July 2001

19
Jul 01

CHEAP THRILLS – Peaches Live

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Peaches, The Bowery Ballroom NYC, 26 July 2001

Making fun of Peaches is beside the point because she gets it over with immediately, like taking off her clothes. Like her costume, your titters are mostly gone by the first song. The show Peaches put on at Bowery Ballroom that Friday night was not a slow-strip triumph of soft-porn lighting and rehearsal, it was something else. (Maybe that’s why she didn’t open for Madonna as she might have, in another pop time or place.)

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A Quick Mention

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A Quick Mention of Club Sussed III at which I’ll be DJing TONIGHT (Thursday) under my ninja guise DJ Cockfarmer. I will be for the first time playing the CLIMACTIC SET of the night so do not miss it (Club Latino, The Plain, St Clements, Oxford, 10pm-2am). Unfortunately I have had to promise no erection section in order to win this privilege BUT I will be attempting some proper mixing at about 1.55am so you should if at all possible be there. Cheers.

Dancing About Architecture

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Dancing About Architecture goes eighties with an album-a-year trawl through what (sez they) made the Eighties less “synthy, spiky and safe”. In other words, ten albums which try to wrench back the 80s from their rightful nostalgiapop weirdness into a context Proper Rock Criticism might understand. So for a start we might point out that “spiky” and “synthy” still don’t equal “safe” and for a second we might point out that in a paranoid fittest-survives era ‘safety’ might be a subversive value. Maybe this is why – contra Peter Gorman’s “five eighties myths” – I’ve listened more to Foreigner’s “I Want To Know What Love Is” than anything by the Clash, ever. I’m keener on the Mick Jones who seems behind the gloss for four minutes not to know anything than the one who seems behind the grit to happily know everything.

(Though, actually, The Clash were a gang for fucksakes, i.e. a confederation whose only purpose is mutual support and ‘safety’.)

Of course some of DAA’s picks are excellent records, all are underconsidered and worthy of attention…but still and all, the “synthy, spiky” eighties got something right: the reason ’1982′ feels like a spell to me isn’t anything to do with ironypunkers Flipper and is everything to do with each gasp from Billy Mackenzie’s urgent lungs. And more still needs to be said about that! Meanwhile, praising a 1989 album for being “rock and roll as it was meant to be”? Sure, but they’d had since nineteen fifty fucking five to get it right, so one would hope so, eh?