How could I not feature someone who proclaims to be “The Biggest Pop Star No One Knows“? That kind of cheeky hubris calls to me from long ago, so my heart is warmed a bit by Tom Bertram, who actually has the musical talent to back up such a bold statement, and is more than worth a few listens. He is our Dazzler of the Day, thanks to gems like ‘Mr. Lucky’. Check out more of his stuff here.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWnQhccJA7Y
Mexican-American singer Omar Apollo released his album ‘Apolonio’ last year, from which the featured song and video below originate. Apollo earns his first Dazzler of the Day honor thanks to his musical prowess – as much as for his blue hair. We love a guy in blue. Visit his website for more fascinating vibes.
The advent of Lent (only true Catholics will rejoice at what I did there) makes this a bit of a Madonna moment, so entwined has some of her music been with the Catholic religion. Her most spiritual albums have been released in the month of March – see ‘Like A Prayer‘ and ‘Ray of Light‘ – and she recently re-issued some ‘Like A Prayer’ remixes that are positively divine. I’m treating you to the ‘Churchapella’ version here for a lovely almost-acoustic take on her epic song – a song that has stood the tests of time and controversy to stand alone as a piece of perfect art. Just like a muse to me…
{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}
Vines of chartreuse splendor wind down from the shade-giving canopy, while spires of new banana leaves rise from a bulky terra-cotta-hued pot. Together they form a veil of green, behind which the sparkling surface of the pool beckons, sometimes playfully, sometimes teasingly, and sometimes annoyingly when it’s dancing with rain. A hummingbird will come to visit, darting its tongue into the deep throats of the fuchsia and salvia, while robins will make a more bothersome and bold presence. To this, friends and family will add their joyous noise and bustle, enlivening the home and the yard and the summer itself.
It was the summer of 2019 – the last summer before the world stopped, before we were all stranded at home, suspended in place, our lives on pause.
Recent cravings for Madonna had her timeline returning to the blog, and the next cut is already up: ‘Crave’ from 2019’s ‘Madame X’ opus. That summer was the last one when the world felt semi-sane and whatever normal was before the pandemic. We couldn’t know that then, and so this breezy memory is sweeter and hazier than usual. Would we have made more indelible memories if we’d known what was to come? I don’t know, it may have been better that we didn’t have a clue. Ignorance is often bliss. Like the mythical sole passenger who survives a car crash because they were asleep and their body just stayed limp instead of tensing up and causing more damage – maybe it was best that no one knew what was in store for us. And so the summer of 2019 passed in all its innocent bliss, with this song rocking gently inside and outside the house, as we opened things up for the season of the sun.
It was back in the days when being alone and staying home was a choice, a deliberate and intentional decision to spend the weekend by ourselves, an indulgent bit of privacy that today is commonplace and necessity, taking away much of the joy and treat of the thing. And of course, now we miss that company, especially in the summer.
Swae Lee was part of the 2019 summer soundtrack thanks to this one and the glorious ‘Sunflower’ – both subtle and insinuating tracks that lulled the summer days into nights, the way summer eases into just about everything. Nothing was rushed or hurried, nothing was worrying – the world eased into the sunny season and everyone put the work away. By the pool, we read and ate, idly dipping in when the height of heat overwhelmed. Friends stopped by when they could, family joined us for patio dinners, and no one had an idea of what was to come…
SONG #162 – ‘Crave’– Summer 2019
This song came out right around the time when the tide of Taylor Swift was turning for me – I love everything about it. Prickly, defiant, and slightly-psycho – all the things that I once embodied, and reserve the right to embody again – on beautiful display in revenge fantasy form. Behind the glittering curtain we go, into the Blank Space we’ve all occupied or created for someone, the expanse of insanity involved in investing so wholly in someone else, going all-in and giving it all up.
Loves makes people do crazy things. That which we sometimes confuse as love sometimes makes people do worse. Lust, obsession, and those insensible crushes of our youth – they bring out the worst impulses, turning us into people we wouldn’t recognize in times of peace and reason. This song reminds me of those lovely emotional roller-coasters, and I look back at them almost fondly, in the distance and rare instance of some semblance of personal growth. It’s good to keep such memories filed away so as to ward off any future dips in sanity. We’re all just a few bad decisions away from falling back into the abyss, or slipping into the madness of rage touched on in this piece of pop perfection.
The video’s a masterpiece, the kind of thing Madonna once did best – stylized and nuanced, pretty yet packed with considerable punch – and I’ve always been a sucker for those times when beautiful clothes and gorgeous settings provide the backdrop and wardrobe for some serious fucking-over of those who dared to do one wrong. These days I don’t think about such revenge tactics – there are better ways to deal with being wronged. But it’s still fun to fantasize…
Released in the US on this day in 1998, Madonna’s ‘Ray of Light’ album is considered by most fans and music historians her best album to date. I’m in complete agreement of that, and have the added bonus of being at just the right moment to soak in its mysteries and majesty at the ripe old age of 22. When you are that age music somehow means more than it does at 45, and I’m not sad nor unhappy about that. It was perfect for its time, and it came out at the precise moment I was ready to hear it.
‘Ray of Light‘ has mostly been about searching and seeking – universal themes that don’t diminish or deteriorate with time. If anything, such matters become more prescient and resonant the older I get, which is part of the artistic merit of the album. It’s always worth a listen – and all the way through – especially when the seasonal year is about to be reborn…
Piggybacking on this morning’s very first post of March, this Monday-themed bop celebrates what is arguably the most depressing day of the week, injecting an infectious melody and drive into the otherwise dismal proceedings. Fake it ‘til you shake it, and then shake it some more. Somebody’s disco balls have dropped and the March party has begun, lions and all. Come join the joyride!
In the same way I’ve been trying desperately to embrace winter while it’s here (we still have three weeks of the season) so too am I trying to embrace the Monday Blues, and nobody can lift the spirits like Kylie Minogue. This bright bop is just what a Monday in early March needs. Turn it up!
Bits and pieces of this music appeared in an impromptu piano duet posted here, and returning to the original source material gives another view, or listen, of this calming collection of notes, so welcome at this stage of winter. This version tells its story through the haunting sound of the cello, which is very close to the human voice. Eerily, and movingly so. It’s a good way to begin the morning, when the light is still gray, and shapes are just shapes, not quite objects yet.
As snow clings to the spokes of this Japanese umbrella tree, winter casts another spell, unwilling to lament its final days, choosing instead to remind us of what makes it so beautiful and magical. In this little forest of snow, where the hushed sound of the wind moans like nature’s version of the cello, there is a cozy nook of icy cold. The snow dips here, carved by the rush of air and the umbrels above it. A little world of wonder, existing for a song, for a moment, for the beginning of a February day.
Last year at this time we had no idea what was in store for our entire way of life. In some ways, I wonder if we have, collectively, truly dealt with all the PTSD that may have resulted from the previous year of living like this. I don’t see how we could, as much as I’ve found ways of maintaining a healthier lifestyle. It’s interesting to think of where we were at last February, before COVID hit the world in such an all-encompassing way. Most of us didn’t think such a thing was possible, pointing to our own failure of imagination and preparedness, for which we continue to pay. Lesson learned… and lessons continue to be learned.
What do we do when life takes such a dark and terrifying turn?
At this point in winter – and pretty much every winter, not just the second COVID winter we’ve endured – we tend to get a little stir-crazy. There’s an antsiness and agitation that stems from being cooped up indoors for too long. Some of us find solace and escape through books and entertainment, some find it in flowers and beauty, and some find it it in music and dance. I’m re-discovering some fabulousness through costumes and glitter, colorful lights and backdrops, and a polarizing mustache that I love almost solely for how much other people hate it. Who else wants to dance so crazy?
The decadence of a disco song, with echoes of a bygone era coupled with a modern-day twist, perfectly embody the need and vibe for a night out when we’re all staying in. Who wants to risk contamination when you can throw a rager in your own basement? Drop a disco ball from the ceiling, upend some grow-lights, and hang a curtain of tinsel and you’ve got yourself a party.
When the world has beaten you down and there’s nowhere left to go but up, it’s time to channel your inner disco diva/divo/divinity and get down tonight. There is still some dazzle left, some little bit of sparkle that will have to be enough to see us through, and in that prism of rainbow light, in the golden threads that run through this polyester extravaganza, may we find the reserve of wonder to startle and astound.
My hair may be gray, my body may be tired, and my mind may be weary, but I will muster the will and the drive to dance. We owe it to ourselves to get up and join the party again…
The music of Philip Glass often bridges the latter days of winter with the first peeps of spring, and so I went down the Glass rabbit hole of music videos and came upon this slightly meditative and gloriously mesmerizing piece entitled ‘Glassworks’ which is as fitting as any other sound right now. Contemplative and compelling, it transforms into whatever you need, the way a good piece of music moves into many spaces, taking up many different forms.
We are all a little weary right now – perhaps now more than ever before – and not just because we are battling the last few weeks of winter. The world has been rocked. Some of us have turned on each other, just when we need each other the most. It makes me want to be a little kinder to everyone I know, and even to people I don’t. A little more patient with strangers. A little sweeter to Andy. A little better to my parents. A little nicer to my friends. And maybe a little more forgiving of myself.
“You can’t help it. An artist’s duty, as far as I’m concerned, is to reflect the times.” ~
“There’s no excuse for the young people not knowing who the heroes and heroines are or were.” ~
“I am just one of the people who is sick of the social order, sick of the establishment, sick to my soul of it all. To me, America’s society is nothing but a cancer, and it must be exposed before it can be cured. I am not the doctor to cure it. All I can do is expose the sickness.” ~
“You’ve got to learn to leave the table when love’s no longer being served.” ~ Nina Simone
“Life is short. People are not easy to know. They’re not easy to know, so if you don’t tell them how you feel, you’re not going to get anywhere, I feel.” ~ Nina Simone
This space was supposed to be filled with some tantalizing Valentine’s Day photos – I have a new leather harness and everything – but on the day it was supposed to happen I just didn’t have it in me. The Senate had failed to convict you-know-who, the winter had been dour and extra-frigid, and after getting sucked into the news station that Andy has on 24-7 I retreated to the basement and curled up on the couch for an extra-long movie – ‘Dr. Zhivago’ – which I had never seen before. Who could have foretold that the Russian Revolution would one day feel so quaint? On this crazy day, the world felt all sorts of wrong.
Sapped of energy, and the desire to thrill, I slipped into a cozy cashmere turtleneck sweater and did my best to embrace the winter white running through my hair. I lit a few candles and tried to conjure some hygge, even as all my Valentine dreams dissipated. I just wasn’t in the mood for this love-fest. Lacking the drive to work out or do some yoga, I barely dragged myself back upstairs to meditate when the movie was over, but I did. It helped, as meditation always does, but even after the session I was left feeling drained and down.
As with many moments lacking in ambition, I turned to Madonna for some love inspiration. I tooled around YouTube looking for moments that happened around this time of the year. There was always her wondrous Oscars rendition of ‘Sooner or Later’ – and, later, the late-winter surreal marvel that was ‘Bedtime Story’ (which we have to reach on the Madonna Timeline) but I wanted something more overtly romantic.
Madonna’s ‘Crazy For You’ was just coming into my life in the weeks following Valentine’s Day, if my memory serves, and so I bring this cover version into the blog and breathe new life into this somewhat sappy chestnut. On this day of all days, a little sappiness may be forgiven.
The cynical side of me has often derided Valentine’s Day, preferring the sass and heartache of Dorothy Parker to any sort of sweet love song, but as I grow older I’m trying to embrace the harmless celebratory aspect of this day – and there’s nothing wrong with a little extra candy or flowers or fragrance. There’s more than enough bitterness in the word, and I’ve spent my fair share adding to that. It’s time to soften up, to let that cynicism go. Give in to love…
Previewing Valentine’s Day, that most silly and trifling of ‘holidays’, with this 80’s cheese-fest called ‘Lady in Red’ seems the ideal opportunity for displaying these photos from almost two decades ago, as this song brings me back to nights when such attempted seductions were beyond my reach or desire. I wasn’t even a teenager when this song climbed the charts, sparked by its appearance at various pop moments, including a bit on ‘Family Ties’ – the NBC sitcom that brought it to my notice. Alex Keaton and his new love-interest (who was also the real-life love interest of Michael J. Fox) played their courtship out on Thursday night must-see TV, as this song played out the romantic spark and yearning that accompanies the beginning of every meaningful relationship.
Such romantic backdrops and musical cues would eventually come to be seen as corny and ridiculously over-dramatic as the years slowly installed a sense of cynicism and suspicion in my heart, but back then there was a simplistic purity in the way I took in a song like this. I believed in the power of love, even if I had barely begun to inch myself toward experiencing such an emotion.
In those days of 80’s excess, I was still just a kid – a gay kid who never saw a gay couple to help understand that whatever he was feeling might have been ok, might have been a way of life for him. Instead, he saw men paired off with women, and even if he was more attracted to the guys, he knew it was wrong. No, he didn’t know that yet ~ the word ‘faggot’ was not yet being uttered by his contemporaries – so no, he didn’t know it was wrong; he didn’t even know it was possible. There’s something sadder and more problematic in that. Who he was wasn’t even possible.
In the most troubling reading of my childhood, who I was didn’t even exist then.
How does a kid realize their worth if they don’t even feel they exist?
Luckily or unluckily or however those of us of a certain age survive such a fucked-up circumstance, I didn’t even know to how formulate whatever questions I might have had. I was good at knowing what was expected of me, and I was better at knowing how to act the part. Yet something, from somewhere deep within, called to me when songs like this came on the radio. It was something that put me squarely in the place of the lady in red – the place of desire and exaltation, and the singular focus of a man. That was where I wanted to be. It was a place that called to me from the very essence of who I was, before I had an inkling of who that might be. It’s how I knew – and it’s how I know – that being gay was not ever a choice. Without example or influence, the gay boy in me was surfacing, asserting himself before I even felt the love that was appearing everywhere else.
Watching the wind swirl the snow outside the window, through the boughs of a Norfolk Island Pine and the billowing water vapor of a bubbling humidifier, I sit ensconced on the cozy conversation couch, having the kind of conversation that a person can only have with themselves. Nina Simone sings this gorgeously plaintive song, and while it once represented spring to me, and all things to me, this morning it takes on a different glow.
The quivering desperation. The feral want. The essence of survival, hanging on the human whims of the heart. A middle-aged man who feels like he is already in the winter of his life, who has felt that way since his childhood. And winter never rests for long.
The Japanese Umbrella Pine holds heavy clumps of snow in its branches. I haven’t had a chance to remove the Christmas fairy lights from its hold – every time I feel the least bit of ambition to do so, a storm seems to come and make it impossible. Perhaps the universe isn’t quite ready to let go of Christmas yet. Seems a bit unfair. The rest of us are ready to move on, to rush into spring. And so I work to embrace winter a little while longer.
There are tight little buds on the Chinese dogwood trees. They wait for the slightest nod from the wind that things are warming. Such a nod will not happen today or tomorrow. It’s best that they not begin to open just yet. Starting spring too quickly can be dangerous. Anyone who has watched the petals of a jonquil torn apart by ice and snow would share such dire concern. And still we want for it, still we long for it, still we eagerly anticipate its arrival, like a child waiting for the arrival of a favorite relative.
With the wind and the snow, a winter garden has sprung into bloom. With its little drifts and crests, the front yard has produced a lawn of crystalline wonder. The rhododendron across the street carries blossoms of snowspray, and the brown umbrels of the Sedum in the backyard are topped by snowy caps. The wind will scatter them soon enough, capable of creation as much as destruction.
The gray and coral tip of a Japanese incense stick glows as baroque designs of smoke curl into the morning air. Through the window, a scene of snow reveals the falling of the night. Winter is sparse in many ways, simplicity and elegance working together like smoke and flute music.
“Winter solitude-
in a world of one colour
the sound of the wind.â€
―
