Sunday, November 21, 2010
Who knows where the time goes?
So the magical carousel of pop fashion turns, as carousels do, and now it appears that the British synth-pop of my Eighties youth is back in favour. This is happy news for those of us who couldn't bring ourselves to stop listening to Heaven 17, OMD, Depeche Mode and pre-arena-rock Simple Minds. But sobering, too, when the realization that the sleek young men of the genre's heyday have grown balding and paunchy is followed swiftly by the realization that the same thing has happened to you while you weren't looking. If you stand still long enough, fashion may swing around to meet you. But don't count on being in a position to enjoy it much.
Heaven 17 then ...
...and now.
Evil in our time, part 2,691
Nancy Franklin in The New Yorker on Sarah Palin's new reality series: "... And there are those whose objections have a physiological basis as well as an ideological one: the pitch and timbre of her voice, the rhythms of her speech, her syntax, and the way she coats acid and incoherence with cheery musical inflections join together in a sickening synergy that distresses the listener, triggering a fight-or-flight reaction. When Palin talks, my whole being wails, like Nancy Kerrigan after Tonya Harding’s ex-husband kneecapped her: 'Why? Why? Why?'"
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