Hi Crasstalk. Hope you had a great day and are ready to wind it down. For some reason I have been in the mood for documentaries lately so I am going to post a few clips from my favorites. Put your own recommendations in the comments.
Important Note: Tonight we will be doing site maintenance and you may experience periodic interruptions. Hang with us.
Have a great night.
Hi gang. Thanks for dropping in. Please start by reading this. Yes, I know most of you have read it, but just take one more look to humor me. The purpose of tonight’s workshop is for us to brainstorm and share ideas for post topics. Please post any ideas you’ve had or things you would like feedback on. To make this work it is essential that we give one and other feedback so please reply to each other. Here are a few suggestions from Dogs of War, the wisest man on Crasstalk:
Hopefully, that can get us started, and I know many of you already have ideas you are knocking around. Let’s get to work.
Oh, and here’s a few more tips:
Pun Intended.
So apparently white people ain’t foolin’ around no more. White people be pissed off and they don’t care whether the facts support their rage or how straight up stupid, evil and nineteenth century they sound when they open their mouths. Shit’s gettin’ real out there in the suburbs ya’ll. The Ford Explorers are gassed up and the sequined American flag sweatshirts are ON. White America is in revolt. They are standing up for their God-given right to be the HBsIC and brown and black people better get out da way…NOW.
Recently, CNN posted a story that released some startling data about that rare and vulnerable animal: The American White Person.
Apparently 44% of American White People think they face racial animus that is just as or more severe of a problem as the animus faced by black people or other minorities. 56% of white Republicans and 61% white Tea Partiers share that opinion. Colleges are beginning to offer “Whiteness Studies” courses (because all those European and American history and literature courses really gave white people the short shrift) and there is a rise in scholarships exclusively offered to that rarest of college students: the White Male. Prominent white activists are even leading marches on Washington to reclaim their right to own everything, live where ever they want, be the standard of beauty and be the only flesh color crayon in the crayon box. Times are tough and the movement is on the streets!
This trauma is something that brown and black people could never understand. We’ve never been in power, so we can’t imagine what it must be like to see black people taking our jobs ( Yeah Mr. President, that means you), stealing our women (Taye Diggs couldn’t you find a sista to rub your gorgeousness on?) and men (Heidi Klum, bitch don’t pretend I’m not looking at you). Not to mention that brown and black people have the temerity to reproduce at a rate that is kicking white people’s birth control using ass (my great grandma had thirteen kids and all their kids have all been prolific breeders- pretty sure we could double the population of Wyoming if we so chose. Watch out Wyoming! ).
So, given all that, I’m pretty sure what I’m about to say should get me registered with the Southern Poverty Law Center for committing a hate crime against a vulnerable minority group.
Oh well, let the Haterade fall!
In the last couple months, the Governor of Mississippi Haley Barbour, has been fighting the good fight for White America. He’s belittled the trauma of the civil rights movements and defended “citizens councils” in the South. It shows how committed white people are to this movement that this guy is STILL in the running for the Republican nomination for President. I’ll say this about White America, they do a good job of promoting from within. And let’s be honest, he deserves that promotion. I know Nazi comparisons are persona non grata but in all seriousness the White Citizens Councils of the South were the closest this country has ever come to the S.S. and it was really, really close. They killed, raped and pillaged the black community with impunity and did a masterful job covering it all up for decades. But, according to Barbour, they were the “good” guys in the civil rights movement. Ok, and my ass isn’t a work of art that I carved with thousands of lunges and carb deprivation.
Not to be out done Governor Paul LePage of Maine (whose picture you will see if you look up Good Ol’ Boy in the dictionary) 
informed the local chapter of the NAACP that they should “kiss his butt,” for having the temerity to question his decision to blow off Martin Luther King Jr. day celebrations. Sounds like this guy is channeling the supernatural to distinguish himself from the pack of average, ho hum, white racist dudes. Perhaps he was channeling the late, infamous Governor Faubus of Arkansas? The WHITE frosting on top of this WHITE cupcake? The man also thinks that women growing beards (not to mention tumors) as a result of exposure to BPAs is also no big thang.
I believe that for every ten actual racists, there are two people who are just too dumb or mentally imbalanced to understand the meaning behind the adjectives, nouns and verbs they string together in front of a microphone. GLoM may just be one of those individuals.
Moving right along, on the Stupid Things Governor and Former Governors Say Express, we have another southerner acting the fool. Former Governor Mike Huckabee (who lately is giving Governor Christie of New Jersey a run for his lunch money for the illustrious title of Governor Sandwiches) decided that President Obama, who was raised in Kansas and Hawaii, was influenced by madrassas as a child. Because there were so many schools that teach a “fundamental” extremist interpretation of Islam in Kansas and Hawaii in the sixties and seventies. Of course, because the President’s absentee father happened to be from a mostly Muslim country and the President has a name other than George, Bill, or James he MUST have been influenced by a world view that this country did not even regard as a threat until the man was an adult and employed by the state of Illinois.
President George W. Bush spent a lot more time hanging out in the Middle East and entertaining Middle Eastern visitors than President Obama and yet no one has a word to say about his influences. Possibly because most of us recognize that the man is too damn dumb to be capable of absorbing information from sources that don’t come with illustrations.
But I digress.
My last little example to support my reasons for building a bunker and starting my own little Black Panthers chapter, is the fine 
state of Texas (isn’t it always Texas?). I may look black on the streets, but I’m a Mexican in the kitchen (and you know, genetically) and as a Mexican I want to fly down to that state and smack state Rep. Debbie Riddle upside her, “let’s find a convenient loop hole around the thirteenth amendment so I can keep my gardener and maid, treat them like shit and possibly not pay them” head. Rep. Riddle would like to criminalize the hiring of illegal immigrants, punishable with jail time, UNLESS those immigrants are employed as household staff. Immigration debate aside (and trust, that issue is chock full of plenty of awful all by itself), this would (once again in the Eternal Return of the Same that perfectly encapsulates the current state of American political discourse) create an underclass of brown people who are open to exploitation, abuse and whatever special hell lurks around the corner for people who are completely dependent upon employers for their financial, social and legal welfare.
Despite the incredible disconnects from reality that make each of these incidents individually, darkly hilarious, this trend is actually a fairly terrifying. If you study ethnic conflicts, the first step to conflict (and by “conflict” I mean wholesale slaughter and imprisonment of minority groups) is the dominate racial or ethnic group starting and sustaining a victim narrative that they use as impetus to pass laws that protect their privileges at the expense of the basic rights of minority groups. We’ve seen this in New York, where mostly white people sought to deny Muslim people their right to have a community center in order to protect their privilege to not have to be confronted with people practicing a religion that they find somehow distasteful.
Chris Rock tells a story about moving into his wealthy suburb in New Jersey. There are only four black people who own homes in his neighborhood, Mary J. Blige, Jay-Z, Eddie Murphy and Rock himself. Two of the best stand-up comics in the game today, one of the greatest R&B singers ever and a hip hop mogul. Who is Rock’s next door neighbor? A white dentist. Rock’s point? “Black people (and all non-white people) have to fly to get someplace that white people can walk to.”
It is troubling that, in 2011, 44% of White Americans either can’t or don’t see this.
This is your racism trend report for March 2011.
Gotta go refill my glass of Hate Hate Juice.
Peace. Love and WHITE chocolate chip cookies.
You’re running, tearing through the brush, the pain is excruciating. It feels like your entire body is on fire. And things, well things are moving under the skin…stretching, lengthening, doing things that shouldn’t be done, shifting in a way that isn’t humanly possible. The fire in your gut is spreading faster and faster. Your sweat-slicked body is doubled over from the constant pain and fear of what is happening inside. Something, yes something, is attempting to claw its way out, and with it take your sanity. The first bones break and then realign themselves, then the next few, and the next, now everything is cracking and breaking under some otherworldly power. And your face, well your face…it’s no longer yours. It’s longer, wider, and now hair, coarse and abundant, is seeping out of your skin like water sluicing off a stone. Your screams that once sounded quite human now they sound…just like a monster. From pitiless and ravaged to menacing and vicious. Finally the pain…it ends. You are now a beast, hulking in form. Your hands are murderous claws, fangs have emerged and punched their way through the skin. All of your senses are more alive than ever before, and with a long pull of the air from your massive snout ….now you’re ready to hunt.
Awesome? Scary? All of the above? Yes.
We’ve long had a fascination with the plight of the werewolf. The whole concept of man turning into a large beast, well it’s the things of nightmares and really good movies. In my opinion there is nothing like seeing a really great werewolf transformation. It is the pinnacle of any movie featuring werewolves. We all wait to be awed by the technique. And we feel totally let down if the transformation doesn’t strike the right note of fear, shock, pain, and horror. I consider myself a werewolf purist in this regard. I can instantly tell when a transformation is going downhill. Mostly when you don’t see it happening. If a movie glosses over the transformation, then well, they’ve not done their movie and the genre service. If one minute there’s human and the next there’s wolf (especially a traditional quadruped wolf) then they’ve blown it.
Since the beginning of film about the illustrious werewolf, the mystique was usually held in the curse. And make no mistake, lycanthropy should be a curse. Yes, yes, I know some stories will tell you that it is a regal coming of age experience. And that it is an honor to be a magnificent werewolf. Phooey! The person who becomes afflicted is certainly damned. He or she is a monster. Why some writer thought werewolves should start shaving their chests and wearing jean shorts is a riddle for the ages. And don’t get me started on leaping into the air and then landing as a large four-legged Pekinese bear. Lon Chaney is surely twitching in his grave.
Aside from any werewolf blasphemy, I love discovering a new entry worth its salt. The latest on my “super spectacular” wolf list is the UK version of Being Human. While the American version tries to stoke the same fires, it’s really the UK version that sails into respectable wolf genre territory. I’m halfway through the second season (So no one ruin the third season for me) and I’m pretty impressed so far with the wolf character “George” played by Russell Tovey. He strikes the right balance of fear, shame, and eventual acceptance of his curse. The horror and resignation is there, but also this sort of subtle charm that belies the real “monster” he can become. There is no CGI (Computer Generated Images) for the audience to lazily rely on. For a television show, an albeit gritty and no-holds barred television show, the graphic detail is phenomenal and the use of traditional special effects is impressive.
I will say this, and I mean it from the bottom of my wolf-lore heart — THERE IS NO PLACE FOR CGI WEREWOLF TRANSFORMATIONS. What would An American Werewolf in London be if David’s transformation resembled that of a large cartoon dog? If Michael J. Fox looked in the mirror to see a computer generated image when he utters, “Geez Louise.” Urgh. CGI is the bane of my supernatural/sci-fi existence. It is so overused, and usually so under needed. It doesn’t give everything depth. In many instances it loses the realism and just launches whatever you’re looking at into “incredibly fake” territory. Don’t think so? Look back at the auspices of this invention and refer to the first Mortal Kombat movie adaptation. Good Gravy! Was that a dragon or maniacal vomit wearing a technicolor dreamcoat? Awful.
Dragons-of-shit not included, why are we so fascinated with the werewolf? Does it speak more to the frailty of man and our ability to feel cursed, or is it some feral knowledge that deep down we feel that there is a beast truly within us, one that we are each in our own ways trying to contain? Perhaps it’s more about the existence of transformation. Maybe we all hope that we can transform into being something more than ourselves. That we have the ability to become something bigger and more powerful, something that is undeniable, and hard to ignore. That we are a force to be reckoned with. There is something about the eventual acceptance and giving in to our circumstances no matter how horrific, or redeeming, that translate. Letting the beast win could be seen as losing your humanity, or possibly it could be accepting the parts of humanity that we often ignore. The choice to be a monster is an individual decision.
Werewolves in movies are not the sole interpretation of the likes of Stephenie Meyer and her bevy of non-shirted hunk-wolves. No, cinema and television have been the birthplace of the wolf for generations. And each new generation adds just a bit more to the lore to make a complete compendium of wolves from bipeds to quadrupeds, to full shifters to half shifters, to teenage wolves, wolves backpacking, girl wolves, boy wolves, middle aged wolves, medieval wolves, and King of Pop wolves — the curse runs the gamut.
But as we get even further into the 21st century the evolution of the werewolf is bound to take on even new shapes so to speak. Werewolves have often played second fiddle to their fellow monster brethren. Vampires have taken over the show, Zombies and their penchant for apocalypse have overshadowed the wolf, and aliens still manage to rake in movie dollars. The plight of the werewolf in modern times has been significantly reduced, mostly landing them in the B-movie category. Or shamefully worked into an overwrought period piece with not enough new elements to add to the genre, and relegating it to workable CGI (that they’ve built the whole movie on) and stunted acting from the stars of such film. See: Benicio Del Torro and Anthony Hopkins in a remake of The Wolfman. But I think the return of the wolf is coming, because just how many beautiful undead creatures can we really watch, and just how many chemical outbreaks can cause the Walking Dead? Somewhere, someone will establish a righteous ode to the moon cursed. And I’ll be waiting.
Here are some of my particular favorite Werewolf films:
Got any others? Let me know what they are and why you like them in the comments, or hate on a few that were just atrocious. Skinwalkers Feh!
Hope you had a great day. I miss when the X Files were on Sunday night, so here is a little flashback to get your evening started.
Oh, and they totally warned us about 9/11.
Let’s not forget about these guys.
Have a great night and stop over to the Writer’s Workshop if you have a minute.
Don’t forget: We are migrating servers late tonight and there may be temporary outages tonight and tomorrow morning. Sorry for the hassle, and a big thank you to everyone who donated so that we could afford the upgrade.
We all have them. The TV shows we missed out on when they originally aired because we didn’t know about them until ages later, or hadn’t heard of them because they’re on the real BBC, but BBC America won’t air them because they want to show the non-BBC Star Trek, TNG at the same freaking time as Syfy. But I digress.
Your solution is Netflix. We all know Netflix and we should all have Netflix, because, well, it’s eight damn dollars a month for streaming only, and if you can’t shell that out for some awesome entertainment you missed out on the first time around, there’s nothing I can do for you here.
*ahem*
Speaking of the BBC, my first suggestion is no surprise to anyone who knows me or has asked for TV suggestions on or off the internet: Doctor Who.
If you’re not familiar, Doctor Who is about a humanoid alien who travels through all of space and time, having adventures and saving the day (or all of eternity). Not bad for a lonely Time Lord.
Doctor Who is a blend of sci-fi, fantasy, and a little bit of British wit and is always fascinating, exciting, and never boring. The show provides a fantastic mix of serious, heart-wrenching episodes as well as those with the perfect balance of suspense and humor. Each incarnation of The Doctor has his own personality and sense of style, and creates his own reality that seamlessly ties who he once was to who he is now.
The show also tells multiple stories as the series goes on. Some are complete after a few episodes, and others continue through seasons and between incarnations of the Doctor. There’s plot development with most episodes, even if it’s in a minute amount. There are some that are great episodes seemingly independently of the rest of the series, but then the theme or character turns up unexpectedly in another storyline and another time. It’s not as complex as Lost* was in that you don’t have to keep a database updated with every line of every episode, but it does require some attention to detail – and the end in the stories of the Whoniverse actually make sense!
Doctor Who, as it exists now, is going into Season 6 this spring. However, it’s technically season 32, which requires an explanation that I’ll give…. now. The show originated in 1963 via the good people at the BBC. An older gentleman by the name of William Hartnell played the role of the Doctor, and the show became so popular that by the time he wanted to retire, the producers decided to give the Doctor the ability to regenerate. Per the show, when the doctor is so sick or injured he cannot recover, he has can regenerate into a completely new person. He gets a new look, personality and fashion sense because the Doctor is never a jeans and t-shirt type, the man’s got style, dammit.
In any case, the show premiered in 1963, went off the air in the 80s, and was re-launched as an American version in 1996 which failed miserably. In fact, that might be the origin of “epic fail”, but then was finally relaunched by the BBC, as it should be, in 2005 with the introduction of the 9th Doctor.
The Doctor gets lonely, so he usually has at least one companion with him on his adventures to add a human element, give him company, and most conveniently for the sake of exposition. Typically the companions are young and female. It seems the 900 year old Doctor is probably secretly a dirty old man, but we don’t get to see that on camera. Only his genius, charm, and distinctive sense of style are visible to us, the lowly human audience.
Season 1 of the relaunch, (or season 27 if you prefer), stars Christopher Eccleston as the Doctor, and Billie Piper plays his companion, Rose. You might be familiar with Piper from Secret Diary of a Call Girl, and Christopher Eccleston because he’s awesome, and also because he sort of recently played the invisible guy on Heroes. I mean, when he wasn’t invisible at least.
Seasons 2-4 brings about the 10th Doctor – one Mr. David Tennant of Barty Crouch Jr (and some of those Shakespeare guy’s performances) fame. At a young age, Mr. Tennant decided to be an actor and would tell people that one day he would grow up to play Doctor Who on TV. Now, my childhood plan of living at Disney World never panned out, but I’m happy for him anyway.
The newer series has plenty of nods to the original, so there’s still the Doctor Who familiarity for those who have seen the older ones but not this new set. There is a variety of original series villains, such as the classic Daleks, Cybermen, and the living plastic Autons. New villains and characters are introduced, such as Lady Cassandra O’Brien Dot Delta Seventeen, the Face of Boe, the (farting) Slitheens, and my personal favorite the Weeping Angels.
Since the BBC employs approximately 37 working actors, there are some familiar faces through the series such as Billie Piper of Secret Diary of a Call Girl as the Doctor’s first companion, Rose, Simon Pegg in a delightfully creepy role, Freema Agyeman, now of Law & Order, UK, and Catherine Tate, of the hilarious Catherine Tate show (which you should also watch). You’ll also be able to pick out a variety of Harry Potter actors; Rita Skeeter, Barty Crouch Sr, Moaning Myrtle, and freaking DUMBLEDORE (not as Dumbledore). Also, Carey Mulligan, some actors from the British Being Human, and some kick-ass Shakespearian actors.
Seasons 1-4, plus all the applicable specials are on Netflix streaming. Unfortunately, though season 5 is out on DVD, it has not yet been added to the streaming queue. BBC America will likely have a season 5 marathon someday soon before season 6 premieres though, so you’ll be able to catch up then if you so desire.
Still not sure? Maybe this will help:
In the meantime, happy Netflixing!
*that show will never end up in this series
Salome Valentine:
In the wake of thatgirl’s reading my post here entitled “In Praise Of Older Men,” she and I got into a lengthy discussion regarding the dynamic of our mutual attraction to men significantly older than ourselves. Our conversation soon came around to the topic of having affairs or relationships with involved or married men. We decided to co-author this somewhat revealing first-person piece based on each of our own experiences.
While I have always said to myself that I would never get involved with a married man (and I never have), my now long-term boyfriend was involved with another woman when we met. He and I both managed to assiduously avoid our undeniable attraction for each other for four months. But it was certainly a “resistance is futile” situation of tremendous mutual lust for both of us, and his relationship with his girlfriend ended very soon after he and I got together. (I was single when he and I met.)
I have heard it said many times that it’s “not as bad” to have a sexual liaison with a man who is merely involved and not married, because marriage is a deliberate, lifetime commitment, and there are often also children caught in the emotional crossfire. I understand this rationale, but honestly, I think there’s a fundamental breach of personal integrity involved regardless. Granted, it’s of a comparatively different degree, but I felt guilty for what I had done nonetheless. Many years later, it’s now a moot point.
I’ll never forget meeting my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend for the first time, soon after they separated. He had gone by to pick up a few things he’d left at her place, and I’d gone along for the ride, as we had plans together later on in that general direction. Naively, I had assumed that if I stayed in the car, there would be no drama. As my boyfriend exited the car and walked towards her house, I saw his ex leaving her house, walking as if to meet him halfway. As she handed him the last of the toiletries he’d left at her place, she took a long hard look at me sitting in the car and admonished him, “How could you? She’s young enough to be your daughter.” (It sounds like something out of a Lifetime movie script, but it really happened. I felt about two feet tall at the time.)
As someone who has been cheated on before, I can say that I should have known better than to pursue someone who was involved with someone else. Certainly, I would make better choices now than I did when I was in my twenties. But, I have no lasting regret, because my relationship has been very enduring, enjoyable and worthwhile. Both my boyfriend and I have lived and learned from our past mistakes. What I wonder is why we – people in general, not just women – are so drawn to others who are seemingly unattainable. I’m sure there are mental health professionals all over the world who are still pondering that moral, ethical and highly individual enigma.
thatgirl:
I don’t think most people set out to form liaisons with unattainable/ unavailable people—at least not consciously. There’s more than one kind of unavailable, as well. The married or otherwise committed sort of unavailable is fairly easy to spot. They’re the guys who list “discreet” as their status via online dating sites; they’re the ones you meet over cocktails, and describe their marriages as “unhappy”, or they’ll insist that the divorce is all done but for the signatures on papers.
The other kind of unavailable was touched upon by MissLinda last week in her “IRL” dating post: people who are either emotionally incapable of an adult relationship, or those who, unknowingly, give off the “Not interested” vibe. This story is about the former kind.
A late spring in Rome saw me fall for a man 30 years my senior. Giovanni was world-wise and patient—a hand holder and door opener, which was so unlike the guys I was used to meeting in my early 20s. He had time for four-hour dinner dates, second bottles of wine, and bedtime phone calls from wherever he was traveling, in whatever time zone. It was an immediately enveloping and fiery liaison. Flowers and air tickets would appear at my building, and I’d drop everything, including my work to meet him, anywhere.
Months of excitement gave way to exhaustion, and the reality that I couldn’t keep up a developing career, and a love affair of international intrigue. I longed for a consistent sleep, more than a week or so in the same time zone, and time with friends. With Giovanni’s assurance that his business required the globetrotting, I ended it. Not one to take “no” for an answer, his invitations continued, unabated, until my overflowing voicemail box told him not to expect a response.
A business meeting months later brought us back together, if only for one more torturous afternoon of him begging me to come back. He almost tempted me, but I was resolute that I’d have my life on my terms. A flight awaited that would take me to a trade show, where a new love interest said he’d meet me over the weekend. I was walking down the jetway when an unfamiliar number came up on my phone. I answered it, only to meet my ex-lover’s wife. Who knew he had one stashed far away, on the North Shore of Chicago?
She scolded me for getting involved with someone so much older, telling me that I had my whole life in front of me. And besides, she added, he was a notorious philanderer, and would only wind up cheating on me. “Perhaps he is,” I replied, “but he’s your problem now!” and I promptly hung up. Giovanni spent the next 48 hours filling my voicemail box, begging me to return…and to never again talk to his wife.
This was a bit before we started Googleing people or otherwise checking the background of potential paramours. Considering all the time I’d spent with him, Giovanni’s intact marriage did come as a surprise. I did feel for his wife, who’d clearly been down this road with him prior. I chalked it up to my youth, and being drunk on the adventure, but I made it a point to avoid obligated men going forward—to the degree that anyone could.
Now I’m trying to help a girlfriend wean herself off the allure of her married lover. Part of me feels that her self-esteem prevents her from seeking something that’s better for everyone in the equation. Unfortunately, lover-man is happy to hang on, as long as she’s willing. She’s smart, funny, and over 40. I’m refraining from comparing her to Carrie Bradshaw… but perhaps that’s her story to tell.
“The Other Woman” – Ray Parker, Jr.
After skewering a sacred cow with my first ever salvo for Crasstalk, I thought I’d change tack and praise Caesar instead of bury him. Music makes me happy, and I’d love to share what I consider lost, under-appreciated or misunderstood works from great bands. Hopefully, if y’all like it, I could make this a semi-regular thing. With that in mind, the goal of Lost Wax will be to introduce or re-introduce you to songs and albums that time has forgotten. So here are the prerequisites:
It has to be:
Enjoy!
Cocaine is a terrible drug for musicians. It is possible to work through a healthy heroin addiction and still make an album like, say, Transformer. LSD can lead to some beautiful experimentation, and some truly awful, terrible album covers (Tarkus, Emerson, Lake & Palmer), but cocaine just turns people into assholes and songs into overproduced covers of Bang a Gong.
When two of the three Taylors in Duran Duran (Andy and John) left to join Robert Palmer, Tony Thompson and a mountain of coke and hookers (not really) to form Power Station in 1985, this left remaining members Simon Le Bon and Nick Rhodes with a critical shortage of Taylors. But instead of panicking, grabbing Chuck and Meshach Taylor and soldiering on as Duran Duran 2.0, messrs. Rhodes, Le Bon and Roger Taylor felt free to indulge in whatever atmospheric flight of fancy their frosted little hearts desired. That flight of fancy turned out to be a band called Arcadia, whose sole output was 1985’s beautiful, strange So Red The Rose
I know what you’re thinking, it’s a bit of a cheat to choose this album for Lost Wax. It wasn’t a bomb (it went platinum), it wasn’t panned, it put 2 songs in the US top 40 and it contained 3/5th of what was arguably one of the biggest acts in the world at that time. And yet, the album has been largely cast off as just another indulgence from members of a band that had already peaked and was still years away from reinventing itself as the ‘Come Undone’ Duran of the 90’s.
On the face of it, ‘overindulgent’ would seem to fit. The album is as heavily overproduced as Duran Duran’s previous album, Seven And The Ragged Tiger (both were produced by Alex Sadkin), complete with the requisite electric drum kits, keyboards and Cor Anglais one would expect of the mid-80s, and there are more guest appearances on this album than a disaster telethon. Sting, Grace Jones, Herbie Hancock, Carlos Alomar, Andy Mackay and David Gilmour all have a hand in this work. The album art is a lurid mix of Anime, Flamenco and S&M. The songs have titles like ‘El Diablo’, ‘Goodbye Is Forever’ and ‘Lady Ice’. Yes, all the pieces are there for this album to be a train wreck and the apex of mid-80s pretentious excess.
What we get instead is a twisted, dark, mysterious fairy tale, more a musical than album. Listened front to back, a story emerges, something akin to a farm boy coming to the big sinful, corrupt city only to become involved with good women, bad women and the Devil. It’s pretty clear someone wants to screw him, kill him, steal his soul or do all three.
So Red The Rose opens with perhaps the album’s most famous song (and also its only bona fide hit, reaching #6 in the US singles chart), Election Day. With its driving mechanical beat and moody lyrics about ‘shadows and subways’ and entire cities being slaves to a mistress (not to mention Grace Jones sounding like she is ready to raise welts), it delivers an opening number that Sweeney Todd would be proud of.
Listen: Arcadia – Election Day
The next few tracks modulate between the sweet, bouncy, and upbeat sound of Keep Me In The Dark and the bombastic, black humor of The Flame. The real winner of the album, though, is Missing, the ‘A’ side closer (remember when Albums had such a thing?) which is full of a melancholy and grief that boy bands aren’t supposed to possess.
The B side opens with The Promise, probably the only real clunker on the album, what with its over the top lyrics like ‘The hungry make their stand when they’ll stand for no more’ and Sting’s breathy backup singing, but then everything returns to form with El Diablo, which has far better lyrics (‘only the brightest shine, but not forever’). It’s a fun take on your typical Faustian deal with the Devil, and it ends with the protagonist ruing his fate while Nick Rhodes’ keyboards make a sound similar to a fun house ride spinning out of control.
The album ends with Lady Ice, not the best track on the album, but a song that is courteous enough to leave the ending to the story ambiguous.
So there you have it. So Red The Rose owes more to the Duran Duran of The Chauffeur than of The Reflex, but this is a good thing. Darker, meaner and more melancholy than anything else Duran Duran (under any name) ever did, this album could really be considered their Blood And Chocolate
And now, here’s a bonus for you all for getting to the bottom: The Russell Mulcahy directed video for The Flame.
-Baconcat
I’ve been away from my computer for the past few days but I recently exchanged correspondence with Mastro Titta and heard about the mixed public reaction to our first public execution. He said there was much trepidation among the commenters about the reasons for the royal execution. I wanted to clarify a few things:
1. Our first condemned prisoner was executed for breaking the rules. We now have almost 100 authors with full priveleges to write posts on this site. That’s an incredible level of community authorship that, I think, very few websites would ever allow. One of the few rules we have in place is that authors must submit their articles for review before an editor actually schedules it to be published. Breaking that rule is a huge insult to all the other writers who wait their turn to publish articles on Crasstalk.
2. I know Mastro Titta mentioned that “his post sucked,” but let me be clear: We’re not going to publicly execute anyone because we don’t like their article. In fact, to date, we’ve published all but a handful of articles that have been submitted and usually do very little editing to the content. In this most recent case, the author simply copy/pasted a huge amount of text that could have been linked to. That wouldn’t normally be an execution-worthy offense, but apparently Mastro hates reading huge blocks of pasted text. It makes him grouchy before cutting off heads.
3. Executions are not done based on personal grudges or popularity contests. You can disagree with anyone here, on any issue, and you will not be executed for it. No one will ever be executed for disagreeing with Salome or BettyCrocker or Dancing Queen. In fact, all three of them are mostly wrong.
4. To date, we’ve banned exactly ZERO commenters from the site. And we didn’t ban OMGP from commenting, only from authoring new posts. We do reserve the right to execute someone’s author or commenter priveleges or both if it’s a particularly egregious case.
5. The executions are a tradition we borrowed from our ancestral homeland of Gawker and are done strictly in a spirit of jest. We’re not actually wishing for anything worse than mild teasing/ball-busting. It’s just a bit of internet fuckery, so try to stop worrying and have fun with it. Most of the condemned will probably be allowed back into our good graces with maybe a quick apology and/or a bottle of scotch.
6. Now that we’ve hired Mastro Titta to provide the negative reinforcement, we’re also going to give you some positive reinforcement. We’re announcing a new feature: COTW. I still have to sit down with DogsofWar and GrandInquisitor to work out the details, but we’re going to do a Comment of the Week post where we highlight the pithiest, snarkiest, smartest, most lulzy stuff you come up with. Stay tuned for details.
And as the Wu-Tang Clan once wisely said, protect ya neck.
With this week’s announcement that the Eastern Cougar is now extinct we need to protect the big cats that we still have left, while there is still time.
According to the Humane Society of the United States:
Threats to the African lion, such as trophy hunting and commercial trade, have resulted in a rapid decline of nearly 50 percent over the past three decades. There are fewer than 40,000 African lions in the wild — some scientists estimate as few as 23,000. And of the remaining populations, two-thirds are neither protected nor viable over the long run.
The African lion is headed for extinction. Its wild population has dwindled by almost fifty percent in only the last three decades. Action must be taken now to save this iconic species. We have collaborated with other organizations to submit a petition to list the African lion as endangered under the Endangered Species Act (ESA).
Even as lion populations plummet, lion trophy imports to the United States are on the rise. An ESA listing would prohibit lion trophy imports to the U.S. unless it serves a conservation purpose, and would raise global awareness about the need to protect lions from this and other threats. We must reverse the decline of the African lion and our petition demonstrates that listing them as endangered under the ESA would help to do just that.
Today, The HSUS and a coalition of wildlife protection and conservation organizations filed a petition with the Secretary of the Interior to list the African lion as an endangered subspecies. You can help by signing on to our letter of support.
PLEASE TAKE ACTION:
Please click the link below to fill out and submit a form to add your name to this letter of support for the Humane Society’s petition. They will deliver the letter to Secretary of the Interior, Ken Salazar, when the public comment period officially opens. Thank you.
