The song featured is Genevieve Waite's cover of Femme Fatale, available on her kitsch cult classic sole album Romance Is On The Rise.
Thursday, 9 October 2014
Thursday, 11 September 2014
Divine's grotesque glamour and a PWL pounding was a match made in heaven, hell and countless questionable gay bars.
Whether you think it's a clunky mess, Living Proof dregs Cher wouldn't holler an F-bomb whilst on her motorbike over, or sublime disco chaos, Higher Plane showcased Cyndi's renewed pop energy on her sadly squandered Shine album (the label folded, the songs leaked online, etc).
It might sound silly to say, but the first time I heard this song (as a free download 1 or 2 years before it became a top 20 UK hit thanks to being used on an advert), I immediately imagined the dancing of Rita Hayworth. I could ramble on about how much I love her, but hopefully this montage, more than the other ones I have made for Dietrich, Davis and Crawford, will do a better job getting across exactly why that is.
Of all the Golden Age movie stars, none were more dedicated to protecting and maintaining their projected star image as Marlene Dietrich. Whether she took time to act in them sometimes or not, her films are works of art and her face and how it is lit, or her costumes, being far more important than unimportant things like, you know, dialogue or a gripping story-line.
It's almost impossible to consider either Joan Crawford or Bette Davis without the other, but in doing so is a disservice to two very distinct careers. Both were unrelenting in their determination to remain on top, so it was unsurprising that they would collide in a number of ways throughout the years. What they both have in common, besides the obvious, is that they adapted as they got older and never looked back in the process. Joan held onto her 'star image' for longer, which meant that in the 1950s her films showcase her vintage traits with increasingly bizarre and 'camp' results. And speaking of results, Liza's album boasts a number of dramatic turns and indeed torch songs (least I mention Joan's unforgettable flop tour de force Torch Song, which one could argue was her All About Eve), and so Losing My Mind seemed like the obvious, and only, song choice to soundtrack Crawford's demented and determined screen turns (wherein she is often driven to despair and utter madness). An awful woman, monstrous and powerful, she made every second on screen count and as uncomfortable as it is to admire such an unfortunate individual, she remains one of the ultimate movie stars.
I can't say I'm familiar with Kim Carnes's career, but she's still at it I see. Something I like to do to amuse myself is make montage videos, and combining my obsession with Hollywood's Golden Era actresses compelled me to make this video. It contains around 40 of Bette's 100-plus pictures, and even cramming in 'only' that many was a challenge, but labour of love.
Things around here are probably about as quiet as Emma Bunton's booking diary. The Motiv8 sound was formulaic as hell, but when on form the sound felt like the vanishing point of dance-floor euphoria. The dynamics of the Spice Girls, their sheer carnage and charisma, struck a chord (for lack of their vocal ones) in a way that will probably never be replicated. Although this montage is a little out of sync in places, there are some nice sequences and it hopefully encapsulates their inescapable appeal.