The cover art for Adam Lambert’s album was just released and I couldn’t be happier. Now I just need the next album cover to be even gayer and more upsetting to middle America. I hope it features Adam in a plastic tranny bodysuit a la Marilyn Manson kissing another guy in a tranny bodysuit while Barbara Streisand is seen in the background videotaping.
I’m always on the lookout for music to add to the gym playlist on my ipod, but I usually can’t bring myself to spend a dollar on some super-gay, eight-minute dance remix that I’ll be tired of in a week. So, for my flavor-of-the-week music needs, I usually check 4shared.com. Of course, some of the downloads are probably full of viruses, so watch out if you’re on a PC. And, of course, it’s always nice to support your beloved, underdog artists by throwing a little cash their way.
I have no idea why artists leak multiple songs before their album is even available, but Whitney’s people have posted a second song on her site and it’s already all over YouTube. It’s definitely not something I can see getting top-40 airplay, but it’s catchy. I can definitely see moms across America tolerating—perhaps even enjoying it—when it comes on their favorite, inoffensive adult-contemporary radio station.
Sadly it seems the ol’ Voice she ain’t what she used to be and there’s not a high note to be found on any of the songs that have leaked so far. It seems those of us waiting for some gay dance anthem with a 30-second reverbed high note might have to settle for snippets sampled from the pre-crack era.
Somewhere in Tina Turner’s attic, an oil painting of her must look like the crypt keeper because, as this month’s Ebony cover demonstrates, this woman does not age.
Many people have noted that it’s ironic and a bit sad that Michael Jackson’s passing should resolve all of his estate’s financial problems and then some. I, for one, find it comforting to know his children can now afford the llamas and surgical masks they so desperately need.
I loved Michael just as much as those kids he saved in the 1990 Sega Genesis classic Moonwalker (see below). But how long do we have to wait for some autopsy photos to be released? And when is someone going to point out that Michael’s parents are the last people who should be raising children?
Lastly, I have to give it up yet again to Robyn. Whenever I hear “The Girl and the Robot,” I suddenly want to go to the gym, which is no small feat. Take note, Lady Gaga. This is how it’s done.
After watching this interview with Lady GaGa, I couldn’t decide if she was the world’s biggest bitch or if she just hated this interviewer. Then I watched her performance on Ellen and the short-but-sweet follow-up interview (shown below) and all was forgiven.
With only one album under her belt, it’s certainly presumptuous to propose that Lady GaGa could become the biggest pop star of her generation. But if not Lady GaGa, then who? Beyoncé is certainly a front runner (despite the fact that she walks a fine line between pop and R&B). After stealing the life force from several former Destiny’s Child members, B has proven she’s ruthless and driven. Her performances are always incredibly polished and she’s definitely a fashion icon (especially when she’s not forced to wear any of her mom’s bedazzled creations.) Aside from Beyoncé, it seems clear that Britney is the only other contender in the battle to be the new Madonna. But in this comparison, I think Lady GaGa already wins hands down.
When Britney was at her best, the comparisons to Madonna were relentless and were even validated by Madonna herself. But I always thought this comparison sold Madonna short. Madonna’s no rocket scientist, but she seemed aware from day one that she was building an empire—that she would be an artist whose legacy would be dissected and analyzed by media studies majors on college campuses across the country. While Britney finds herself trapped and choked by one media firestorm after another, Madonna was a pyro who lit the match and doused her scandals in gasoline.
Nobody needed to strap Madonna to a gurney or take her kids away because she couldn’t handle the pressure. When Hollywood tried to chew her up and spit her out, Madonna bit back. She burned crosses or made a documentary or cursed on David Letterman or screwed Sean Penn or Warren Beatty or Dennis Rodman or produced a book of erotic photos. When critics panned her as an actress, she took on Evita. When people said she had run out of ideas, she got some cornrows and rapped in a patent-leather catsuit, collaborated with Bjork, took Electronica mainstream, and made cowboy hats a must-have club-hopping accessory.
Lady GaGa mentions Andy Warhol in a lot of her interviews and it’s clear that she’s on a mission to follow in his footsteps and blur the lines between fine art and pop culture. The tricky part is that by revealing such an ambitious plan to the world, it’s very hard to seem humble. The safer bet may be to follow the more widely approved approach to global domination—by covering it in the candy coating of false modesty that has served Beyoncé so well. Of course, this is probably what Diana Ross had in mind, and nobody is taking “Diana Ross 101″ at Yale.
A loyal reader recently informed me that Green Day’s latest album was available for download on Amazon for $4.99 within the first few days of its release. Apparently, this has become something of a trend for Amazon. So, if there’s something relatively mainstream that you wouldn’t mind owning when it “drops” (as the kids say), keep an eye on Amazon for a very temporary price break.
Also, I recently discovered that Amazon runs a monthly promo called 50/$5 in which the editors throw together a random assortment of fifty albums all available for $5 each. For May 2009, there’s an interesting grab bag that includes albums by Death Cab for Cutie, Dolly Parton, Kanye West, Etta James, and Culture Club.
When I was in high school, all the cool kids studied French, so I did, too. Spanish was far too ordinary, and for years I had little interest in learning it. But now I find myself longing to travel to exotic Latin locales. So, I’ve decided that before I try to order a prime cut of beef in Buenos Aires or save sea turtles in Costa Rica, I should learn a bit of Spanish. And of course, there’s no better way to learn basic, cliché phrases than by listening to pop music. Here are a few of my favorites for those of you interested in joining my study group.
First, there’s Marta Sanchez from Spain. In the video for “Soy Yo” (below), Marta pays homage (read: rips off) a particular American diva right down to her awkward dancing and persistent hair flinging. If it takes you more than 15 seconds to figure it out, you’re either not paying attention or you’re a straight man.
Once you’re tired of watching Marta point at herself and frame her face with her hands, you can shake your bon-bon to “Superstar” and revel in a whole new kind of pointing mixed with pelvic thrusting and moaning in “High Energy.”
Although Marta gets points for being really good at spinning around in chairs without throwing up, my heart currently belongs to Mexican pop sensation Belanova. Their lyrics are very easy to learn and I love their electro-pop sound and the slightly squeaky voice of their lead singer. For beginners, check out “Me Pregunto“. Once you’ve mastered that, you can move on to “Baila Mi Corazón“, “Bye Bye” and “One, Two, Three, Go!” (shown below).
It’s easy to find song lyrics online, but it’s often hard to find English translations written by real people. One site that offers some help on this front is trdream.com. The site includes useful translations of several Belanova songs. Also, if you’re looking for some very affordable learning materials to help you round out your new gay-pop vocabulary, I recommend the following:
1001 Most Useful Spanish Words - $2
Quick-Study Spanish Vocabulary Cards - $5.95
If you happen to order any of the items above from Amazon, check to see if they’re included in Amazon’s 4-for-3 promotion. (They all were when I ordered.) If you order four items that are eligible, the cheapest one is free. It’s not a huge savings when you’re ordering $2 books, but it can be a nice way to grab an extra copy for a friend.
Does anyone else remember this song?
This video should be nominated for best pop video ever produced at a Six Flags theme park recording studio. It’s even better than Taco-Flavored Kisses. I stumbled upon it during one of my regular Friday night searches for “best singer in the world.” This search normally leads me to clips that pit Whitney, Mariah, and Celine against each other, their voices analyzed like mutant powers that the government must study to determine their destructive potential.
I’m still not sure if Vanessa beats out “Fallen Angel” by 2Girlz or “Hooked on a Feeling” by David Hasselhoff for best abuse of a greenscreen, but she’s close.
Oh, the humanity! I love Madonna as much as the next gay guy, which is why someone should be shot for allowing these photos to be taken. Then, someone else should be shot for letting them leak without a even a hint of airbrushing. I really thought the arm/hand veins could be overcome with the right pair of opera gloves, but there is just no recovering from a granny thong pinched by a skin-flab roll.
I’ve been thinking lately about the power of celebrity and the power of Britney Spears, specifically. It’s easy to be in awe of celebrity earnings when we hear about movie stars who make over $20 million for a few months of work or musicians whose concerts generate ticket sales in the hundreds of millions. But what about all of the hangers-on? What about the magazines, gossip websites and TV shows? What about the relatives who suddenly find themselves swimming in money from tell-all book royalties or a sudden interest in their mediocre talents?
It turns out someone at Conde Nast Portfolio had the same question back in February 2008 and decided to do a rough calculation of the total value of “The Britney Economy.” The article estimates Britney’s “gross domestic product” at roughly $110 to $120 million a year, which is truly staggering. Equally shocking was the author’s finding that revenues from unauthorized Britney photos account for 20 percent of the entire Hollywood paparazzi business. Yet, what’s really fascinating about the total value of the Britney economy is how LOW the $120-million-per-year figure might be. The author’s calculations fail to take into account so many other smaller but noteworthy revenue streams, including:
With all this in mind, I’d estimate Britney generates revenue of closer to $150 million a year. Initially, this seemed like a ton of money tied to the influence of a single person. But then I did some digging and saw that Yahoo! finance estimates the approximate 2007 revenue of Harpo Entertainment, Oprah’s production company, at $345 million. That’s not counting all the money Oprah makes for others every time she promotes a new book club selection, names a product one of her favorite things, or launches the career of friends like Dr. Phil, Rachel Ray, Nate Berkus, or Dr. Oz. Britney’s also no Martha Stewart when it comes to generating wealth, since the total 2007 revenue of Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia was $328 million.
Back when MP3s were just a glimmer in a programmer’s eye, albums were treated with more reverence. It wasn’t just that more people purchased CDs, it was that putting a disc in your CD player and firing it up required a certain level of commitment and patience. Sure, you could change your mind and put in something else, but it wasn’t an easy task to wedge a disc back into its proper sleeve, find another, extract it, and insert it into a tiny slot in the dash all while staying between the lines at 70 miles an hour.
Digital music players have made it easy for all of us to develop a bit of musical attention deficit disorder. I rarely listen to my favorite old songs any more, and when I do, my mind wanders and I find myself skipping to something new before the first song is done. It’s hard to imagine going back to the days when all my musical cravings weren’t just a click away, which is why I was dismayed to find the car I rented a few days ago for a business trip had no auxiliary input jack.
Although I was initially sad to leave my iPod at home, I tried to look on the bright side: my road trip would give me a chance to reconnect with some of my favorite oldies. So, I dusted off my CD collection and spent several minutes arming myself for the five-hour drive. To kick off the trip, I listened to my favorite songs on Relish and remembered how much I love the raspy grittiness of Joan Osbourne’s voice. With nearly fifteen years to forget how overplayed “One of Us” once was, the song suddenly felt like a quaint, undiscovered gem. I stared out at the monotonous, corn-flanked highway and smiled, remembering how Joan made every rebellious teenage girl in America want a nose ring of her very own. I also spent some time with Aimee Mann and I listened to several of Michael Jackson’s greatest hits, recalling where I was when the music videos for “Black or White” and “Remember the Time” premiered. I brought along Emotions to ensure I’d have a little classic Mariah on hand, and I observed a moment of silence to mourn the day she traded in her sensible tops and jeans for hoochie shorts and airbrushed tank-tops.
It was nice to spend quality time with all of my adolescent idols, but one diva kept me company longer than any other. Her growling, powerful voice always takes me back to a simpler time when I still thought I might be a straight boy who just happened to be very into good skin care, musicals, interior decorating, and getting out of gym by being a teacher’s aide. I’m speaking, of course, about Taylor Dayne.
Now, I realize some of you might not be familiar with all of Taylor’s work. I can understand if you don’t own two copies of Soul Dancing, and if you’re straight, I could probably forgive your failure to purchase the maxi-single of “Naked Without You.” But if you don’t own Taylor Dayne’s Greatest Hits, I’m afraid we simply can’t be friends any more. It’s nothing personal. It’s just that Taylor Dayne songs elicit certain involuntary responses in me, such as singing into hairbrushes and/or broom handles and taking both hands off the steering wheel to punctuate choruses with faggy swishing and pointing. I find I eventually sabotage all relationships with people who lack this reflex. I’ve never completely forgiven my mother for botching the lyrics to “Tell It To My Heart” during our 2002 Christmas karaoke performance, so I’m sure you’ll understand that I can’t have blog readers who don’t even own her seminal compilation of timeless high-energy hits and sultry ballads.
Taylor Dayne was no one-hit wonder, but most people forget how many of her songs they actually know. Fortunately, there’s a convenient megamix of her greatest hits on YouTube if you need a refresher. However, to truly appreciate Taylor, nothing beats the inconvenient, high-fidelity glory of a compact disc. It may not be as easy to click and shuffle your way to another artist when your attention span wanes. Yet, listening to at least a few tracks from the same album gives musicians the respect they deserve and honors the dignity of their work.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to listen to every track on several CDs I fished out of a dumpster behind a pawn shop in 1998. Looking over these albums after my road trip, I find myself asking what hundreds of thousands of CD-buying teenagers must have asked many years ago: could there be more to Aqua than just “Barbie Girl”? Could “C’mon ‘N Ride It (The Train)” be just the beginning of a musical revolution brought to us by the Quad City DJs? Only an open-mind and a two-hour listening party will tell.
