Bideodromage
Saxophonist John Coltrane’s impossibly oracular, incantatory power as an improviser simply cannot be described. He provided one of the high-water marks in music history with his ground-and-everything-else-breaking work in the 1960’s, featuring his immortal quartet {McCoy Tyner, piano; Elvin Jones, drums/percussion; and Jimmy Garrison, bass}.
Memorable moments from Melanie Safka, Don McLean, Argent, Todd Rundgren, Clint Holmes, The Stylistics, The Main Ingredient, The Hollies, a youthful Michael Jackson, Looking Glass, Gallery, and Climax, featuring Sonny Geraci. So there.
A modest collection of brilliant live performances by Mr. David Bowie, with some studio tracks, plus a wondrous, pared-down demo thrown in for good measure. The constantly auto-reinventing, quasi-androgynous David Robert Jones pioneered his way through the music world, leaving the landscape forever altered—with new worlds and vistas previously undream’t of—in his wake.
Dwight Yoakam can simply do the impossible with his voice. See North to Alaska, among many others, for evidence. He steps into the very large shoes of legend Johnny Horton, and…whoa. A transcendent, jaw-dropping, awe-inducing performance. And, the same can be said of his live 2013 reading of the Red Simpson-penned Close Up The Honky Tonks. Even a young, inexperienced Yoakam—in his 1985 performance above, he shyly asks the audience if they like the show—kills it. A not-many-times-in-an-epoch talent.
The Boomtown Rats, led by Bob Geldof, perform three of their best, plus a nod to the great Syd Barrett. Geldof might be using a very large python for a microphone, at times. At other times, he strikes a Nixonian pose. On still other occasions, he does neither.
“Sir” Bob {as he is an Irish citizen, he cannot officially/correctly be referred to as “Sir”…} is deeply committed as an activist, particularly to famine relief in Africa.
Let ∰ = “The High Priest of quasi-androgynous Synth-Pop/Electronica, the Impassive Alien Deity, The Gary Numan.” What heretofore had been used to calculate Flux Densities, and whatnot, now is more—much more—much, much more.
He created aural landscapes which allowed access to the unfathomable. His performances have been described in so many ways. Strikingly “robotic”. Otherworldly. Mesmerizing. And moreover, there’s an unease, a disquiet, accompanying his trenchant intelligence; a wariness. Aware of a certain danger we cannot grasp. The ritual held out in the open, hauntingly obvious, yet impenetrable. A language we’ve forgotten; mind-argot beyond our ken.
Go ahead. Choose a realm, any realm. Ian’s not from there; he’s never taken up residence there, and, for that matter, spends precious little—if any—time there. Yes. It’s been proven.
The composer/vocalist of Joy Division hails from some different locale than do most human beings. Ian’s lodgings come rent-free, and he’s been awarded the keys to The City.
We’re not talking about earth, which he departed many years ago, alas, in 1980. He certainly left his mark here on this planet, but his realm is, and has ever been, elsewhere.
The above constitutes a smattering of incredible live performances by this ensemble, mainly the 1980 iteration, which included guitar maestro Adrian Belew. David Byrne, it could be argued, virtually created “New Wave” {or *something*} with the inexplicable, unpinpointable, wondrous peregrinations of his vocals. Plus, the unusual “dancing”{or Nureyev/??-like movements}. Much more than an iconoclast, Byrne simply brought into the time/space continuum, things that were previously Noumenal, undefinable. An epoch-defining genius.
A few comments on our selections {NOT all of them!!}: Cities {1983, 1982, *and* 1980 versions} *might* be David Byrne’s high-water mark as an “umm, what???” vocalist. The Impossible writ upon a landscape. Pulled Up and Mind, at the very least, are looking uneasily over their shoulders. The “He’s come undone” staggerings/lurchings in Psycho Killer {1983} are also enough to keep one alive for several epochs; the 1979 Mudd Club version is electrifying, mystique-laden; ridiculously brilliant. Both versions of Drugs have an eerie, haunting element all of their own; Dollette McDonald and Adrian B contribute mightily. Crosseyed {all versions} is simply a collective singe-fest.
Mr. Murphy is in top form still. He is in full command of his towering vocal abilities. A vampiric mesmerist is in the house. And, *you* let him in!!!!!!!!!!!!
The enigmatic and other-worldly Peter Murphy presents an imposing, daunting figure, one who seems unlacking in self-assurance. And, if anything, his *astonishing* vocal talents are fully—possibly more fully than ever—intact. Like unto a god. Or whatever he is.
Titanic moments of ecstasy, pathos, and catharsis are the norm for this great man, in his legendary live performances.
Bideodromage 