Staying cool on a sweltering day. I think I’m the last homosexual male on Earth to read the Cher memoir so I decided to catch up. Cherilyn Sarkasian tells her story (and that of her family) eloquently and with great candor, as only she can. So far, my takeaway has been the repeated history of tragedy and abuse in her matrilineage. The amount is staggering; the details shocking. As I continue to read this volume, it’s clear that Cher is part of a continuum of very resilient women and this explains a great deal about her career longevity. Also: many thanks to my friend Steve the home made coffee cake (said in Cher voice with an imaginary hair flip). C’mon… You KNOW you heard and saw that so let’s not pretend.
Okay, kids. Gather ‘round. I’m gonna give you a history lesson. Many years ago, before iPhones and digital cameras, people used to have to purchase film as well as flash cubes to light many of their indoor or night time photos. I have quite a few vintage cameras but the 1970s Kodak 110 Instamatic seen here is special because it belonged to my friend Steve's father. After his dad’s passing, Steve gifted this gem to me and when I picked it up, I hit the red button. Though it likely hadn’t been used in decades, the flash cube on the camera popped an unexpected burst of light into my face. I told Steve “That’s your dad saying hello from The Other Side.” About 20 years ago, Steve also gave me this box of General Electric 1960s flash cubes. Some of them became magnets or assemblage material. I bought the 1970s Sylvania cubes at a flea market about 10 years ago and it carries a Drug Fair price tag for $1.77. Each of the three cubes in the box is charged with four flashes so that’s a total of 12 flashes at 14 cents each.
44 Years Ago - Summer 1981
This summer marks the 44th anniversary of the release of two albums I love: Bella Donna by Stevie Nicks and Koo Koo by Debbie Harry. Both of these are the first solo albums by dynamic women who fronted very successful bands, Fleetwood Mac and Blondie respectively. It’s striking how both women, massive in their own realms, released solo albums on the same day, each making bold personal statements that the framework of the bands they fronted may not have otherwise allowed. Both Stevie and Debbie marked new territory for themselves as artists and created innovative works with their respective solo releases. Though each album left the starting gate at the same moment, they had vastly different trajectories. These two recordings were as stylistically polarized as the artists who created them. Bella Donna was radio friendly rock with an air of California cool while Koo Koo blended urban New York funk and rap with avant jazz rock. Bella Donna was an out of the box blockbuster album which garnered critical praise and spawned several hit singles while Koo Koo was deemed a critical and commercial disappointment. Over time, however, Koo Koo has grown in stature as a dark horse cult classic that still delivers as much as it continues to confound. So why wasn’t Debbie’s “The Jam Was Moving” in heavy rotation alongside Stevie’s “Edge Of Seventeen”? Perhaps it had to do with the inviting, mysterious softness of one album cover versus the confrontational Giger goth of the other. Much has been said about Debbie’s visual presentation at this time as a deterrent but I, for one, have always thought it was a masterstroke of collaborative reinvention. Perhaps it just “Backfired” as it were (if you know, you know). Regardless, both ladies held fast in their diametrically opposed corners of the rock world through the 1980s: Stevie in arenas and Debbie in nightclubs and films. Throughout the storied ups and downs that each witnessed in the ensuing decades, Ms. Nicks and Ms. Harry rejoined their respective bands with great success and continue to garner love and respect with side projects or on their own. Neither of them had an easy road but each of these women captured their crowns with hard work. That’s how the good becomes great and that’s how stars become icons. Cheers to Debbie and Stevie alike.
Passaic River In A Thunderstorm
1 August 1981 • 44 Years Ago
“Video Killed The Radio Star” by The Buggles was the first video played on a new cable channel called MTV. The song and video was taken from The Buggles’ 1979 LP The Age Of Plastic and ushered in an era of music videos playing 24 hours a day, allowing American homes with cable TV access to sounds and visuals by a wide array of artists. The programming centered mostly on US and UK pop, rock and new wave artists but later broadened its scope to include R&B, soul, freestyle club music, Latin pop and hip hop.
I’m in the park as I type this. I’m having a moment. I’m keenly aware that this coming week marks the 35th anniversary of the untimely passing of one of my friends in a car accident. He was unique, colorful, hilarious and kind. Some of you knew him. Some of you loved him. Another person was gravely injured in that crash but thankfully made a full recovery. 1990 was a time before cellphones and texting… only CB radio… and it was over that CB radio (and through a game of “telephone”) that somehow within a day, it was miscommunicated among many that I was the other passenger in the car. I wasn’t in the car, however myself and a few others said goodbye to him at 9:08 PM (according to the time cards at our work place). The accident occurred four minutes later. Long story short: I was supposed to be in that car, but stayed an extra hour at work. It was the summer before our senior year of high school and we were looking forward to all that entails. Colleges were being selected. Future plans were being made. Many of us were able to do all we wanted to do and I still find it cosmically cruel that one of us, namely my good friend, was not. Four days before the accident my mom and I pulled into our driveway after being at the mall and saw my friend and my dad playing basketball. Of course, he ended up staying for dinner. As with many of my friends over the years, my parents loved him and his death devastated them. Being friends with his ridiculously cool (and to this day lovely) older sister, I felt for her and her parents’ loss deeply but didn’t have the words to articulate this fully when she said to me the following day on my parents’ front lawn “I’m a f*cking only child again.” I have a ton of beautiful memories of my friend and for those I am grateful. Most of them are funny (and unrepeatable here) but TRUST ME… they are INDEED fantastic. So, to my friend who left us 35 years ago, I say this: I have not forgotten you. I still love you and so do many others. I want you to know that you were instrumental in the formation of who I became and I would hope that you’d be proud of me. Thank you for quietly walking alongside me for the past 35 years. I WILL SEE YOU AGAIN.
Happy 67th Birthday Madonna!
It’s hard for me to describe what Madonna‘s music and overall presence have meant to me over the past 40+ years. As a teenager I watched her become famous and then mega-famous. Throughout my adult years I watched her being criticized and skewered for using her body to make social and political statements and all these years later it’s amusing to see all the people who got famous doing exactly what she was accused of doing, yet without any artistry or social commentary to support it. I watched her create public dialogue about sexism, racism, homophobia and AIDS long before a sitting president said the word “AIDS” in public. She was the first artist to include pamphlets about AIDS risks and prevention in her albums at a time when other artists wouldn’t touch the subject for fear of aligning themselves with “marginalized communities”. I watched the protean, chameleon-like shifting of stylings, identities and soundscapes she inhabited or lent her voice to with wonder, yet always noticed that in the balance of it all, she somehow remained Madonna. Over the years many artists have been humanized for me after watching them perform multiple times or when meeting them. It’s not that they aren’t special, it’s just that each time I see these artists I think “Hey… there you are again. Nice to see you.” For some reason, at least for me, Madonna stands apart in that each time I’ve seen her in the flesh there’s this surprise alarm that goes off in my brain and says “Oh my God! She’s actually REAL!” While I’m well aware that she’s an actual human with normal human characteristics (if you know you know) she carries a singular energetic signature that is unlike ANY other performer - or person - I’ve seen. It’s even more palpable at close range and it has nothing to do with the façades of lighting, costumes or makeup. I’ve seen through all of that. Some of you know exactly what I’m talking about. That said, as Madonna’s career moves into its fifth decade, I’m grateful to still be on this ride. She’s been endlessly inspirational to me, even when confusing or confounding me with her choices. Thank you Madonna Louise Veronica Ciccone for EVERYTHING.
Programming Note RE: Instagram
Boy, did they lose the plot or what?
Park Life And Other Wanderings...
I hope August has been good to all.
XO - CDM
