That’s short for Vince Clarke and Martin Gore, my 80’s babies, the godfathers of techo/synth pop. They reunited for an album “Ssss.” It’s all instrumental, which is puzzling for two of the most singable songwriters of the 80’s and 90’s. Gore with Depeche Mode (which Clarke was part of) and Clarke with Yaz, and then with Erasure. The 16 year-old in me is jumping up and down and screaming right now.
She just finished two shows at the El Rey. She’s been making headlines lately, but not for her music. That was always the problem/persona of hers. The rebel without a cause, or too many causes. The scorned woman, turned lesbian, turned fallen lesbian, turned priest, or whatever her official church title is, it always seemed to diminish/distract from the towering talent that she is.
A voice that could caress you one second, then punch your lights out the next, she was the high priestess of the airwaves in the 90’s. She dedicated an a cappella version of “I am Stretched On Your Grave,” to Whitney Huston. I’m sure it took everyone’s breath away.
Say what you want about Adele, I do LOVE her myself, but even she can’t muster as much fire, defiance, and utter vulnerability, in a wailing bellowing banshee delivery as Sinead can. Listen to “Troy” from “The Lion and the Cobra,” and tell me if she doesn’t rule the school when it comes to women scorned.
Which is interesting considering her look was militantly unfeminine, un-girly, un-victimy. Leather jackets, jeans, tees, and combat boots.
That was also, coincidentally, my uniform in the 90’s, with a smattering of booty shorts for clubbing (I was in my 20’s, ok! That’s what we did.)
She’s older, a little chubbier, but the bitch can still blast it out of the park.
Really? It can’t be. It is? Then I exploded into a million bits of confetti. I wasn’t obsessed with Ian Brown, but I did think he was quite cute. He said he wanted to be adored and he was! The best hair of the 90’s. I loved their sound, 60’s mod through an acid/ecstasy-laced Madchester filter. Jon Squire’s swirling guitar, part funk, part rave, all joy of being in your 20’s, drunk, dancing and staying out late. I loved their look, modish haircuts + soccer hooligan swagger.
Those anoraks, I think, paved the way for the Gallagher bros look, don’t you think? If they didn’t get trapped in legal quicksand, Nirvana would’ve never happened. They’d be some little post-punk band in Seattle doing their thing, still great but not blowin’ up, the biggest band of the decade great. Britpop filled the void, with Blur and Oasis taking their place. Nothing against them, but their sound wasn’t as original, or genre bending as the Stone Roses.
Anyway, the tickets are as hard to come by as a Willy Wonka Golden Ticket, so good luck music fans.
P.S. It’s been said that David Beckham begged the band to get back together, and the boys being rabid Manchester United fans, acquiesced. So two thanks to Becks, 1) For bringing the MLS cup to LA, 2) for reuniting the Stone Roses. That guy really has the touch.
They do moonlight as actors sometimes or in docs but there’s no denying their influence on fashion as a cultural force; on the masses and designers. The swagger, the creativity and unique style they project is something to respect. And seriously, who looks better in flared jeans, you or Robert Plant?
I ran across this slideshow on Yahoo.
He’s a well known rock photog, and it’s from his new book Rock Seen. He took this iconic shot of Lennon.
- Rock Seen, A Book by Legendary Rock & Roll Photographer Bob Gruen (laughingsquid.com)
Homework: Rock out with your c**k out. I mean that figuratively, of course. Don’t get arrested, although that is really rock star. But seriously, try tailoring your jeans. Buy some vintage Levi’s that fit your waist and tailor the rest. Make it bootcut, straight or skinny, but make sure that waist fits (no muffin tops!!!) and the rise is comfy (no cameltoe!!!).