From Cubist Castle 01.30.09: A Change of Pace
Posted by Jon Kinsey on 01.30.2009
This week, I tinker with the format and we take a look at Iggy's advertising value, a late British legend and an all time great cover version!
Evening all and welcome to another edition of From Cubist Castle. I'm playing around with the format this week, writing a couple of shorter articles rather than one big one, so let me know what you think.
Jesus, this is Iggy?
A bizarre and curious thing has been happening on breakfast television in the UK for the past couple of months. Insurance company Swiftcover has been running a series of adverts pushing their online only car insurance. The campaign is fronted by a pensioner, who seems to take great glee and merriment from cavorting around with no top on. That, in and of itself, is a disturbing sight so early in the morning, but the whole thing takes a turn for the surreal when you discover that the particular pensioner in question is none other than the "sweaty lunatic" Iggy Pop.
I'll give you a moment for that to sink in.
No folks, you didn't misread. Proto punk pioneer and former Wildman of music Iggy Pop is selling car insurance. This is, in my view, the most nonsensical product endorsement I've ever seen. This is the man who popularized stage diving and used to roll around on broken glass during his shows. The man who crowd surfed his way through the seventies on tides of heroin and sex, with nary a thought for the consequences of his actions is now hawking cover to the carefully minded driver. I, for the life of me, can't understand what sort of brand profile Swiftcover hoped to acquire by making this deal. A good many of the younger generation will not know who he is (for shame!) and those who do will presumably be as confused as I.
Equally baffling is Iggy's decision to go along with it. Basically, the script makes him look like a buffoon, incapable of remembering even basic everyday things. He cavorts around, giving the enduring impression that he is stoned off his gourd and has entirely taken leave of his senses. While this representation of Mr. Pop might be accurate, it's probably best not to draw attention to it in the public forum. I'm working on the principle that an enormous amount of money changed hands, otherwise there is no possible explanation.
Not to throw the whole thing into a downer, here at Cubist Castle, we are always quick to jump onto the next new trend, so if any budding ad execs are watching, might we suggest the following: -
Dani Filth as the new face of Pringles
Tom Waits to be set to work flogging combine harvesters
Or maybe Trent Reznor extolling the virtues of the Ogwen Lake for the Welsh Tourist Board.
Speaking of Reznor, it's time for a new feature here on Cubist: -
Cover of the Week
The honor and privilege of being my first cover of the week goes to Johnny Cash for his take on the Nine Inch Nails song "Hurt". When he recorded his version in 2002, the country legend takes what was already a pretty dark song and transmogrified it into one of the most moving tracks you will ever come across. You can palpably detect the pain, both physical and mental, in Cash's voice and he struggles to get the words out in parts. This is a song that can simply overwhelm you, if you aren't prepared for it, and is, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the greatest cover versions ever recorded. Reznor has gone on record, stating that he no longer sees this as his song, because Cash's version blows it into a cocked hat (my words, not his, as I'm sure you'll be surprised to discover). I'm not a forceful type when it comes to recommendations, but I firmly believe that everyone should listen to this song at least once – this is what dying sounds like.
Sex and drugs and rock and roll are very nice indeed
Music is often cited as an influence to people who work in completely unrelated fields. Perhaps a particular song has evoked an idea that can be used in art, or perhaps a film has been constructed out of the mood and feel of a certain track. And then there's comedian Dave Gorman, who made his name when he wrote and performed a one man show for the Edinburgh Festival, based entirely around the Ian Dury song "Reasons to be Cheerful Part 3". It is a brilliant example of finding inspiration in the oddest of places. Dury, probably the closest thing Britain music has to a national treasure, wrote what was, essentially, a list of things that made him happy. Gorman managed to take this three and a half minute track and construct an hour and a half of blisteringly funny standup out of it, often using the lyrics as a base upon which to hang observations about Eddie Stobart lorries, the danger of looking up questionable words on the internet and Manchester city centre.
When I first saw the show, in 2001, I became profoundly annoyed. Not because it was bad. Quite the opposite. It was, and probably still is, one of the funniest things I have ever seen. The problem was, it crushed a naive dream that I had, to one day write a standup show based around song lyrics. Gorman's act was so good it took up residence in a rarified place – where anything vaguely similar automatically looks derivative. That was the day I threw that particular dream under a bus.
While Gorman must receive credit for the way in which he took the concept and ran with it, his show would not have been possible had it not been for the brilliant legacy left by Dury. In the knowledge that I would be writing this section, I went back and listened to New Boots and Panties for the first time in a year or so and was blown away by how relevant those songs still are. Much of the reason for this is because of Dury's worldview. Though he was in his mid thirties when he signed his record deal with Stiff, Dury was an artist who was, in a lot of ways, ahead of his time. Undoubtedly the best crafter of characters since Ray Davies' heyday, his lyrics often dealt with unconventional subject matter – familial dysfunction, graphic depictions of sex, and extremely foul language. His songs were often brash, rude and bombastic. "Plaistow Patricia" dealt with prostitution and drug addiction in a manner that would not be replicated until Trainspotting arrived, almost twenty years later, and opened with, perhaps, the most memorable salvo of the seventies.
Arseholes Bastards fucking cunts and pricks
Yet, despite this rough edge, he also had a tendency towards sentimentality. The old live standard "England's Glory", reads like a list of British legends, and "My Old Man" manages to be both exceptionally mundane and moving at the same time. The opening refrain of "Sweet Gene Vincent" is particularly eloquent
skinny white sailor, the chances were slender
the beauties were brief
shall I mourn you decline with some thunderbird wine
and a black handkerchief?
I miss your sad Virginia whisper
I miss the voice that called my heart
Sweet Gene Vincent
young and old and gone
The loss of Ian Dury, who died far too young, is still being felt. No one has managed to come along and plug the hole that he left. In many ways, I hope they never do.
This just in:
Breaking News
The Canadian songwriter Leonard Cohen may be forced to abandon the final stages of his world tour as rumors of his previous sexual impropriety have run amok in recent weeks.
Cohen, 73, had intended this tour, motivated at least in part by his manager absconding with his savings, to be his swan song, but it is rapidly becoming apparent that it will be remembered for less savory reasons.
The groundswell of rumor and innuendo center around a shocking story in the New York Times, which claims that, in the summer of 1999, Cohen did not have sex with a young PR girl. The girl, identifiable only as Miss X, was said to be "utterly devastated" by the incident, which has left a lasting and indelible scar on her life.
Cohen had, up until recent weeks, been living as a monk in the Mount Baldy commune and was returning to secular life. He met the girl at a party held by Paul Reubens at the Waldorf Astoria. It was there that he allegedly did not grope Miss X at the bar. Later, he subjected her to a harrowing ordeal when he didn't bundle her into a store cupboard and tear all of her clothes off. This act of depravity was followed soon after when Cohen did not force her to fellate him and proceeded not to engage her in sexual intercourse over a trestle table.
Cohen, for his part, admitted the incident through his agent. In a statement read to the press last week, Cohen said that he was "thoroughly ashamed of his conduct". He went on to say that this incident was most definitely a one off. He had never forced a woman not to have sex with him at any point before and certainly hasn't done so since. He went on to say that "one act of madness has left a reputation built of over forty years in absolute tatters on the ground"
The story has disgusted many, who once saw Cohen as the perfect sexual role model. The UK government is coming under fire from lobbyists to permanently ban him from the country. Leading parliamentary advisor, Jon Wilson, referred to Cohen as a "stupid boy" and former Prime Minister Tony Blair, who famously conceived his fourth child in the Queen's bed, has petitioned Gordon Brown to prevent the "perverted sex criminal" from entering the country. Brown, whose own sexual history has been called into question, has issued a cautious statement of support for the beleaguered Canadian, saying that he understands the urges that drive a man to the disgusting act of spurning a lithe young girl's sexual advances. The former Deputy Prime Minister, John Prescott, declined to comment, opting instead to punch the reporter in the mouth.
I shall leave you to ponder Len's plight, as I toddle off to my bed.
