An alternative title to this post could be: NARCISSISM or If I Could Pick Another Career I'd be a Performer Because I Think I am Awesome.
Spurred by a friend linking me to the FANTASTIC performance of the Arcade Fire's "Wake Up" with the Arcade Fire and David Bowie (I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW, it is old news but I KNOW) I was kicked into a youtube spree. I watched countless Arcade Fire videos (Neon Bible is all I am listening to nowadays, but that will wait for another post. Just know that right now my favorite songs are "Keep the Car Running," "The Well and the Lighthouse," and, most importantly, "Intervention," which is racing into my top five songs of all time. I would sell my soul to see this band--in fact, I've already offered) and, after gorging on Arcade Fire, I switched to one of my old favorites...
...Mr. David Bowie.
Recently I've suppressed some of my glam rock urges. I have this gender-fucked side of me that loves men in eyeliner, particularly sparkly eyeliner, maybe in a pale blue trouser suit, with platforms. And a red mullet.
Okay, clearly I am speaking of the "Life on Mars" video, which is one of my favorite videos of all time. It is very simple: crane shots and close ups of David Bowie, washed out and looking fabulous in makeup that looks like an Andy Warhol silkscreen. Blue around the eyes, pinkish red on the lips, white face, red wig, blue suit, mascara. Bowie's eyes are, as ever, eerie and beautiful. The camera worships him, it makes love to him. I can recreate this video post by post, my favorite being the rapid zoom on the line "Take a look at the law man..." Bowie turns, hand on hip, and points at the fucking camera. No. He points at you.
There is something so decadent, so hedonistic about glam rock, and that appeals to a visceral, dirty, sinful side of me that I have only recently begun to explore in earnest. In the past I dabbled in such things in a purely aesthetic manner. I looked but did not touch. Part of me still wants to fully immerse myself and my style in such holier-than-thou glam: wear heavy eyeliner and heels every day, ripped tights, fingerless gloves, dress in costume, go through my visual life in a total performance--well, more of a performance than usual, since we are all performing, after all.
But no, I have some sort of a reputation to uphold, and I'm not quite so brash--or self assured. Actually that's a total lie. I'm terribly arrogant, and prideful.
I just wish I were a dirty, dirty rock star.
No comments:
Post a Comment