#i used the “coles response” cover art as a reference

[parasitic-anomaly]

I would like to explode them

[thegrayascendancy-if]

Hi there! I know you’ve given descriptions of characters, but do you by chance have more references? (Heights, Pinterest boards, face claims, artbreeders) for them for Art Reasons? Thank you!!!

Hi!

Honestly, I have been rereading my original response to the question about their appearances several times, and I actually want to apologize to the person who asked for it back then because... I feel like even then I had more to say than I ended up saying?.. I've been meaning to update them anyway, so I'm happy that could be of service to someone, and for such exciting Reasons👀, no less!

I have opted for small pinterest collections for hairstyles, clothes and vibes, but please note the pins are never about faces or skintone. For the former I am providing updated info below, and for the latter I am giving skin color references at the bottom of this post. In the boards I tried to avoid faces as much as possible (while trying not to drop into the treacherous Timothée Chalamet/Cole Sprouse pinterest pit), but in a hunt for an even approximate hairstyle or outfit they are almost unavoidable. The characters' most prominent features are mentioned in these descriptions (like Darla's freckles and Gale's eyes), and the rest should be fine as you envision it, respecting the skintone 😊

Pinterest boards

The Gray Ascendancy character boards

More info on character appearances

Ianthe has ivory skin, deep blue eyes and the hair of very light blond, thin so that it almost looks silver. It is long, wispy, wavy and kept either loose or in a low ponytail. She has a heart-shaped face, all of her features are round and relaxed. Ianthe is of average height, curvy. For the way she is typically dressed: many chaotic layers of thin clothes from light materials, primarily in shades of muted purple and gray.

Y has deep olive skin, amber cat-like eyes and thick brown hair in soft waves. Yvette often wears a long side braid almost reaching to her waist, her face shaped by the escaped curls. Yves' hair is shoulder length and loose. Y is of average height and build, they wear clothes that cover most of their skin (buttoned up, no open shoulders), strict silhouettes with firm lines but rich in embellishment.

Darla is quite short and well-built. Her hair is floofy curly and full, a whole cloud the color of chestnut on her head that she usually keeps in check with a metal hairband. Her skin is bronze with freckles across her nose and cheeks, full lips, light-green eyes. For a long time as she travels, she wears a light armor, changing into leathers when not on the road.

Jax is on the taller side of average, thin but in a way you know they don't actually exercise. Their hair is very dark brown, cut very close on the sides and a few inches long on top where it is Very Coily. Deep brown skin with a warm undertone and dark hazel eyes. Their preferred style of clothes is a waistcoat on top of a shirt or a blouse (either form-fitting or a loose one, doesn't matter) and a pair of trousers. [When using magic, their eyes light up with gold]

Arthur is tall and broad-shouldered with distinct auburn hair that just reaches to his jaw and is usually styled back. His eyes are dark gray, prominent cheekbones and sharp jawline, beige skin. His road outfit looks sturdy, reinforced at the arms and through a chest guard, all in various shades of dusted brown. [When high on bellona, his eyes light up with light blue]

Gale has hooded eyes of dark green with visible eyebags under them, his hair is of very dark brown, almost black, tousled and reaching to his ears. He is lean, slightly taller than average. When traveling he always wears a black cape, but underneath all the layers of protective travel gear there is an uncourtly black slim-fitting sleeveless shirt. [When using magic, his eyes light up with red]

Skin tone reference:

[skin chart source]

[nami-writes]

Humans Don’t Come Back - Detroit: Become Human

i saw this fan art a while ago and, well, i couldn’t resist writing fanfiction based off of it bc i love connor but i also love hurting him, so that’s what i’m gonna do here. enjoy the feels B)

Numb.

Connor felt numb.

He was sitting on the bench in Riverside Park, two weeks after Hank’s death, and he felt nothing.

Or, rather, he felt something. He just couldn’t seem to let it through.

It reminded him of what being nothing but a machine had felt like. Feeling emotions, knowing he’s feeling them, but pushing and shoving them back down so they wouldn’t show. Fighting to hide them, to drown them and cover them up with only thoughts that related to his mission. It had almost become instinctual, his natural reaction to even the slightest signs of emotion; of deviancy.

He realized now that part of the reason why he did that was out of fear.

Fear of becoming deviant, fear of being found out, fear of being sent back and deactivated and destroyed and killed.

He’d always been afraid of feeling.

He remembered when Sumo died three years after the revolution. Soon after he moved in, Hank had made him see a therapist, another android, and helped him make progress on learning not to be so afraid of and opposed to feeling. Even if he didn’t know how to, he’d done his best to support him through anything and everything and he’d been the one to catch him whenever he fell too far.

But all of that progress had been lost when Connor first noticed the symptoms that Sumo was dying. Hank was in denial at first, but they had both known what was coming.

The following weeks, Connor had almost reverted back to how he’d previously been. Hank saw how he was so willing to do anything for him, from chores and housework to paperwork and reports and he’d let him do what he wanted for the first couple of days, but it didn’t take long for him to get fed up of ordering him around like he was still just a machine.

What he hadn’t seen, though, was Connor trying his hardest to keep himself together. Before, he’d built walls to keep emotions out and he’d been trying to break them down, but now, he was afraid of the negative emotions drowning out the positive ones. No emotions were better than too many negative emotions, so he needed something, anything to distract himself so the walls wouldn’t fall and crush him under their weight.

His therapist had told him he was suppressing his emotions as a coping mechanism but he still fought constantly to keep his LED blue so Hank wouldn’t worry, though it occasionally glinted yellow.

But when it came time to euthanize Sumo, he and Hank remained beside him and he couldn’t help his LED turning red.

He’d never dealt with loss before.

Before Hank and Sumo, he’d never been attached to anyone enough to be able to process the grief. And when he’d realized he was going to lose one of them... he’d had no idea how to handle it.

It wasn’t any different now.

No, that was wrong.

Now, his LED spun a constant yellow, flickering red every few seconds, because there was nobody to worry about it.

Now, he’d lost both of them.

Now, he had nothing else to lose.

What was left for him now?

Hank had put him in his will and left everything he had in Connor’s possession. Technically, he still had everything.

But losing Hank felt like he was left with nothing.

Sitting on the park bench, he began to reconstruct what had happened there a hundred years ago. He felt his LED flash red when he watched Hank’s outline form beside him but ignored it.

This memory wasn’t one of his favorites, but it was one way to remember him, and he would never let himself forget him. He remembered every part of it perfectly.

┌                                                                        ┐

       DATE: NOVEMBER 7, 2038            

       EVENT: COLE DISCUSSION & THREAT

       ◻ RECONSTRUCT           

└                                                                        ┘

    RECONSTRUCTION                   0/1 EVENTS

    INCOMPLETE                            ANALYZED

⍇ ▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭ ⍈

He watched his own outline walk up beside Hank’s and replayed the audio he’d saved from this exact moment.

“Nice view, huh?”

He looked out toward Ambassador Bridge, remembering how its lights had reflected faintly off the river. They were off now, but at night, they certainly did look nice.

“I used to come here a lot, before...”

Past Hank drank from the beer bottle he held in his hand and it hurt to watch. His alcoholism had been part of the reason he’d died sooner than he should’ve, at 153 years old, while the average life expectancy was 161-164. He’d convinced him to stop drinking after he moved in and made sure he took care of himself, but it seemed even that hadn’t been enough to reverse the effects of years of alcoholism and an unhealthy lifestyle.

He’d give anything to get those remaining 8 years with him.

Hell, he’d give anything to just get one more day with him. An hour would suffice. He’d even take a minute if he could.

“Before what?”

At the time, he’d guessed that Hank was referring to Cole’s death.

“Hm?”

“You said, ‘I used to come here a lot, before.’ Before what?”

He’d still chosen to tread carefully, as he knew it was a sensitive topic.

“Before...”

Hank had told him later on that this was one of the moments before the Cyberlife Tower incident where he really considered opening up.

“Before nothing.”

He watched himself turn to face him, crossing his arms hesitantly, unsure if his next question would be appropriate.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?”

“Do all androids ask so many personal questions, or is it just you?” 

If it didn’t hurt so much just to remember Hank’s voice, he would’ve wanted to laugh at the sarcasm he remembered dripping from his voice.

“Why are you so determined to kill yourself?”

The question stung even him now, but he was just glad that wasn’t how he’d died.

“Some things I just can’t forget. Whatever I do, they’re always there, eating away at me. I don’t have the guts to pull the trigger, so I kill myself a little more every day.”

Hank’s outline turned to look at Connor’s.

“That’s probably pretty difficult for you to understand, huh, Connor? Nothing very rational about it.”

That was true; he hadn’t really understood at the time. But now, he understood better than he ever wished he could’ve.

He’d spent the past three weeks avoiding Hank’s room. Hell, he’d spent the past three weeks avoiding their house. Or... his house, now. He hadn’t been back in exactly two weeks, three days and eleven hours. Instead, he’d been walking around for days on end, just trying to distract himself, trying to get away from reality.

He’d considered staying with Markus for a couple of days, but decided against it. Markus had lost Carl three years prior, at 169 years old, and Connor didn’t want to worry him or be a burden on him. Besides, he didn’t need a place to stay. He could withstand the weather and he didn’t need to eat or sleep.

Markus had moved on two and a half years ago.

But Connor wasn’t strong like he was.

He was weak. Weak and pathetic. He couldn’t even go back home after three weeks because he couldn’t handle it.

He hadn’t even gone to any of his therapy sessions because he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

All he could do was walk around, seeing the exact same things over and over again, in a feeble attempt to stop the memory from replaying in his head on a constant, never-ending loop.

He hated how having a perfect memory allowed him to remember everything exactly.

”Hank? Are you awake yet?” Connor called from the living room, sitting on the couch with the TV on. By this time, he was usually up already and making coffee for himself, but sometimes he slept in, especially because of how old he complained about being. However, Connor had made it his responsibility to make sure he maintained a regular sleep schedule.

He got no response.

He sighed and stood up. “TV off.” Hank was lucky he’d retired a decade ago. If not, he’d have been late for work today. Connor had stayed, though, and, throughout the years, worked his way up the ranks to a Commander. He still had a couple minutes before he had to leave for work, though, so he’d take the time to wake him up. Besides, he needed to change into his uniform. He could do that after he woke up Hank.

He made his way to Hank’s room and knocked on the door, just in case he was awake. “Hank?”

Still no response. Definitely asleep.

But he had a strange feeling. A bad feeling.

He opened the door and saw Hank laying in bed, but—something was wrong.

He wasn’t breathing.

He took a few hesitant steps inside, as if he couldn’t believe what his systems were telling him, then ran to his side. ”Hank—no, no, Hank, come on!”

He felt for his pulse.

Nothing.

His LED was solid red and he could already feel the artificial tears building up quickly, threatening to spill at any moment. His systems were operating as fast as he could make them; he showed no signs of movement, he wasn’t breathing, and he had no heartbeat. He’d died about ten minutes ago so CPR had a 0% chance of making any difference and neither did any of the other forms of medical assistance he had registered.

He’d been gone too long for anything to bring him back.

”No—no, no, no, come on, please—please don’t go, Hank, I-I don’t—I can’t—“ His voice broke and he finally broke with it.

He shook himself out of the memory. He didn’t want to remember the rest. He didn’t want to remember how pathetic he’d been, how broken he’d been when an ambulance finally arrived.

He could still feel the same devastation and fear and dread he’d felt when he found his body. He still remembered the desperation, how he wanted so badly for there to be some way, any way to save him, to bring him back, but he knew it was hopeless.

It had been three weeks, and he could still feel the sorrow and anguish he’d felt the moment he’d realized that Hank was truly gone.

All he wanted right now was for Hank to hold him in his arms and tell him it was gonna be okay.

But humans didn’t come back.

Maybe that was why he was walking down the empty street where the Chicken Feed food truck had stood for over a century. Of course, the owner, Gary Kayes, had died, even before Hank did, despite being three years younger. Connor had been there to help Hank cope with his death. Nobody had been around for a long time to replace him, so it remained abandoned in the same spot it’d been in before the revolution.

He scanned the area and a single information tab appeared on the sidewalk. When his eyes flicked over to it, it expanded.

┌                                                               ┐

       DATE: NOVEMBER 12, 2038    

       EVENT: FIRST HUG FROM HANK

       ◻ RECONSTRUCT           

└                                                               ┘

    RECONSTRUCTION                   0/1 EVENTS

    INCOMPLETE                             ANALYZED

⍇ ▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭▭ ⍈

Hank had hugged him often after the revolution, but this one had always been his favorite because it had been the first.

His LED flickered to red when he saw Hank’s figure again but he ignored it. Instead, as he played the reconstruction, he retraced his steps exactly; a futile attempt to make the memory seem at least a little bit realer. He still remembered Hank’s smile; the first real, genuine smile he’d seen from him. Hell, it might’ve been the first smile in general he’d seen from him.

He watched Hank’s outline take a few hesitant steps toward him, then stop.

Then, as the outline approached him and closed the distance between them, Connor closed his eyes and tried to let himself believe that, even if for just a moment, this was real.

[independentartistbuzz]

7 From the Women With Celia Berk

Celia Berk has positioned herself as one of the foremost jazz and cabaret vocalists today.  She has made memorable appearances at Carnegie Hall, Jazz At Lincoln Center, Birdland Theater, The Town Hall and the National Arts Club. Celia has been praised by some of the most prominent champions of The Great American Songbook.

She just released her 3rd album, Now That I Have Everything. Arranger/pianist Tedd Firth brings a Nat King Cole Trio feel to the recording, which explores the ways we try – successfully and unsuccessfully – to connect our heart to someone else’s.

We got to speak with Celia in this edition of 7 From the Women. Let’s dive in:

What have you been working to promote lately?

My third album, NOW THAT I HAVE EVERYTHING, was released on September 1st. There are 13 songs about love. And, while some are “love songs,” it’s really about the ways we try – successfully and unsuccessfully – to connect our heart to someone else’s. It’s arranged in the classic format of the Nat King Cole trio (piano, bass, guitar) with percussion on some tracks. It features the kinds of hidden gems from great songwriters that are my trademark. That includes the first cover of Carly Simon’s “It Happens Everyday.” Other writers of the Great American Songbook range from Hoagy Carmichael and Billy Strayhorn to James Van Heusen and Stevie Wonder. The title track is by Ervin Drake, and this is its first recording since the original by the wonderful singer Margaret Whiting. In fact, it was suggested to me by her daughter! 

I was thrilled to collaborate with pianist Tedd Firth, who is the album’s co-producer and music director, as well as bassists David Finck and Jay Leonhart, guitarist Matt Munisteri and percussionist Rex Benincasa. The album’s engineer and co-producer is Grammy and Tony Award-winner Scott Lehrer, who has given the recording a warm, intimate sound in the spirit of Nat King Cole’s AFTER MIDNIGHT. 

You can hear the title track here. And read the album liner notes by Will Friedwald (whose most recent book is Straighten Up And Fly Right: The Life Of Nat King Cole), as well as song notes and credits for every track.

Please tell us about your favorite song written, recorded, or produced by another woman and why it’s meaningful to you? 

Carly Simon’s “It Happens Everyday”!  It was hiding in plain sight in a Carly Simon songbook. I was so thrilled to find it and realize I had the opportunity to do the first cover. She refers to it in her memoir in the context of a “slow motion goodbye” at the end of her first great love affair. I think any listener – male or female – can find themselves in her lyrics and be touched by the wistful melody.  

What does it mean to you to be a woman making music/in the music business today and do you feel a responsibility to other women to create messages and themes in your music? 

I’m very struck by the groups that have formed to help women help each other in the music business.  Women In Music and Maestra are the ones I know best. I’ve been doing my best to support them in various ways. And there are lots of informal networks. I’ve also jumped at the chance to work with some up-and-coming women songwriters, directors and music directors. And I consciously ask myself if there is a woman who would be best suited to something I am doing. For example, a holiday single I did with cellist Mairi Dorman-Phaneuf last year.

In terms of messages and themes, I’m not a songwriter myself. But I don’t sing “victim songs” or songs that belittle or diminish women – or any person for that matter. I remember when the great Barbara Cook was singing a song from the Broadway show “Fiorello!” many years after it was written. She went back to the lyricist Sheldon Harnick to ask for a lyric change because it referred to being “hit”. To his credit, Harnick was taken aback that it was there and changed it. But there are quite a lot of songs with lyrics that just aren’t acceptable today.

What female artists have inspired you and influenced you? 

Earlier this year, I debuted a cabaret show called “ON MY WAY TO YOU – Improbable Stories That Inspired An Unlikely Path,” that I’m bringing back to the Laurie Beechman Theatre in New York on October 23. In it, I talk about the indelible impressions left on me by extraordinary performers with very unlikely stories, almost all of whom are women. The first was Ethel Merman, who I saw when I was 11 years old and she was already in her 60s. I can still see her command and confidence in my mind’s eye. I instantly wanted to do what she was doing. Then there were the early recordings of Barbra Streisand. I didn’t realize it at the time, but those albums were my introduction to the Great American Songbook. They showed me you could make every song into a one act play. Maria Callas opened the world of opera to me (which I went on to study). Callas breathed life into every role in the most visceral way. I fell in love with Barbara Cook when she was a Broadway ingenue. Watching her reinvent herself as a great interpreter of songs in nightclubs and recordings has been a huge inspiration. 

What is the most personal thing you have shared in your music or in your artist brand as it relates to being female?

In my show, I share that the greatest live performance I ever saw was when I was a teenager. It was Nancy Walker in an evening celebrating Stephen Sondheim. She sang “I’m Still Here”. For me, it was a bolt of lightning – it flashed me a glimpse of something about life. The twists and turns. The fears underneath the bravado. The unrest inside you that you can never outsmart. Of course all of that can be true for a man. But it’s different for a woman – the choices you make, the choices you even feel are open to you, the cost of those choices, and the ways in which others judge you. 

That’s been a complicated journey for me. So it's not a coincidence that the first track of my first album was the song “I’ve Been Waiting All My Life” by Alan and Marilyn Bergman and Billy Goldenberg. And that the title track was “You Can’t Rush Spring” by Ann Hampton Callaway.

If you could collaborate with any other female artists, who would you choose?

It has been such an honor to not only sing the music of Ann Hampton Callaway, but to be the recipient of her advice, encouragement and friendship. Then, when I released my first album, the extraordinary songwriter and performer Amanda McBroom gave me a quote to help with promotion. She’s been just an email away ever since. Amanda’s great songwriting partner is Michele Brourman, who was so supportive when I said I wanted to record a song I heard Michele sing, called A Simple Prayer.

All of that is a long way of saying that anything that keeps me in the orbit of these three extraordinary women is my fondest wish! They write separately and together, so who knows what the future might bring….

What do you hope to share with other women in the industry with your music? 

That anything is possible if you don’t let anyone try to hand you a rule book. And the more specific and personal you make your music, the more it will hopefully speak to others.

Connect with Celia Berk via: Website / Instagram / Twitter / Facebook / YouTube

[zcires]

Ⅱ. ◈ ROLLING STONE: 1307 ED FT. ZAIRE STONE.

A blue moon of sorts emerges onto the horizon, as a host of happenings occur that no one truly anticipated. Dry, warm Hollywood, California is unseasonably rainy and chilly, and ZAIRE STONE is early for his 8 p.m. call time, milling about the hardwood of a non-descript studio, sifting through a rack of clothing and accessories for his first ROLLING STONE cover shoot. Clad in distressed jeans, a plain white t-shirt, orange Tampa Bay Buccaneers throwback Starter jacket and a pair of highly sought-after white Supreme Jordan's, the music phenom is calm and collected, and his shoulder is outwardly void of chips. No longer a defenseless young’n’, the singer/dancer turned multi-art hyphenate is in command and ready to make amends on his own terms. ( @unrulyrp / @dcnastclla )

“In the past, I don’t think I was able to capitalize fully off of the exposure that was given to me by the media,” he says matter-of-factly. “And I don’t think the direction focused on the road to redemption; it was more so on the controversy and the bulls**t that was going on in my life. Along with blogs and other various different people and other things, I just separated myself from a lot of negative things, or things that I feel that I couldn't be protected under.”

Now, at 28 years old with an impressive eleven-year career under his belt, STONE is in the position to protect himself–literally. Propping open a jewelry box filled with his own diamond-encrusted pieces, including a wildly oversized championship-style “OHB” pinky ring, an iced-out Allen Iverson logo pendant and a host of other blinding chains and bracelets, he incredulously answers an inquiry on the whereabouts of a lock for the case that houses such prized possessions. “A lock? For what? I can fight,” he says, flashing his 1000-watt grin. This is the essence of today’s ZAIRE STONE: confident, comfortable and unapologetically open to life’s lessons. And in order to grasp this updated version of everybody’s favorite crooner to hate, one must forget what they think they know. Dispose of the headlines. Dump the assumptions. Discard the labels. Seeing the sum of Stone’s parts on this Thursday night requires the art of letting go. With pretenses set aside, an objective fly on the wall would be admittedly impressed watching ZAIRE in his milieu as a professional. In a room manned by a stylist, publicist, photographer and myself, he is choosing his own clothes, setting up his own shots and peering at proofs. He’s also holding a rather informed conversation about celebrities’ impact on fashion over the years. And in between setting the stage for the task at hand, ZAIRE is also discussing the upcoming documentary about his personal and professional trials and triumphs as well as plans for STNE ENT, his own record company.

But he doesn’t characterize any of this as exerting creative control. “I think creative control is kind of like the total opposite from me. It’s just freedom,” he says, marking the first of 20 times he would refer to being free. “A lot of my doubts–or a lot of the doubts that are put upon us as people or individuals–I don’t funnel that to make my life move. The way I look at it is, I’m fearless.”

Either f-words–free or fearless–are commendable labels for STONE to have named and claimed. Of the decade-long stretch since his 2007 debut with his old boy band ZODIAC, STONE has spent the last couple years on an uphill climb, from the OVO v. STNE record label divide heard ‘round the world to a few stints in rehab for his alleged drug addiction to reportedly, according to Stone, OVO still owning his masters and unwilling to release them to his control. Free and fearless? The nerve of this guy. Judging by his body language he is, as he squats down on a wooden box next to an open awning-covered window that allows the sound of traffic on Cole Avenue to seep through. ZAIRE STONE is finally at ease with being ZAIRE STONE: good, bad and ugly included. Now, he asserts, his only mission is to inspire, a word that will also come up a number of times. Sixteen to be exact.

At 16 years old, STONE simply wanted to get the girls to like him and buy a Lamborghini. Fast forward to him at 28, and STONE is carving an indelible musical mark similar to the ones left by greats like USHER, whose classic nod to Clockwork Orange in “My Way,” and beanie phase in “U Remind Me” STONE still cites as inspirations, even as the two have become collaborators and friends. Presented with the mind-boggling calculation that he has achieved more Top 75 singles than USHER in half of his career span, STONE shrugs off the numbers and deflects the credit. “If it wasn’t for Usher, then ZAIRE STONE couldn’t exist,” he maintains. “When I would look at USHER, I would be like ‘F**k, he has it.’ The only other guy that I looked at like that was MICHAEL JACKSON.” But truth be told, someone will look at ZAIRE STONE in the same way one day. “I don’t think we’ll see another ZAIRE STONE for a really long time, and when we do, it still won’t be a ZAIRE STONE; it’ll be somebody that was influenced by him,” STNE Creative Director, BRYLEIGH VARGAS says. “The amount of talent in one being, only God can give that to him. As much as he goes through in life, people try to knock him down, they could never take away what God has placed inside of him.”

STONE is not a fan of calling himself a vet, though a decade-long tenure in the music-game trenches is no easy feat, especially given his trials. To him, that word is reserved for the “well off.” He pauses to carefully consider the answer to a final question on what he believes his legacy will be. “Certain people will look at different legacies,” he begins. “Some people might say that ZAIRE STONE is going down in history for being an irresponsible cokehead. Or some might say that ZAIRE STONE might go down as one of the greatest who ever did it. But I’m cool either way.”

“Why?” STELLA’s sudden outburst catching both ZAIRE and herself off guard. Throughout the interview, she had tried her hardest to maintain a level of professionalism and unbiased judgement. But she couldn’t help but question why a man with such God give talent and a genuinely great but often misunderstood heart would be okay with being remember for something as defaming as an ‘irresponsible cokehead.’ As she wait for a response, ZAIRE becomes a bit more subdued, humble even. He’s reluctant to discuss his impact in too much depth, turning his freckled face at the mere idea of what his legacy could be when it’s all said and done. “Because at the end of the day, somebody learned a greater lesson.”

── Stella Moreno.

[kentonramsey]

How Queer People Wear Colour To Celebrate, Communicate & Thrive

LGBTQIA+ people throughout history have fought battles for equality, shown solidarity with other oppressed groups and struggled for the right to live proudly. To survive in oppressively heteronormative societies, especially before homosexuality was legalised in the West, we’ve used fashion symbols to interact safely and show pride without endangering ourselves.

Prior to the rise of Christianity, queer people played key roles in society but the religion, and later the British Empire’s enforcement of homophobic laws, pushed us underground. Despite losing our openness, we endured by forming our own subculture as the antithesis to the mainstream. Our symbols shone through and, particularly in fashion, became a method of communication.

While specific fashions and symbols gained popularity later on, colours became an important – and, crucially, subtle – method of communication. In Victorian Britain, homosexual men wore green carnations in their lapels as an understated form of identification. Dr Shaun Cole, associate professor in fashion at Winchester School of Art, explains: “[Oscar] Wilde and his circle wore green carnations and the colour green weirdly continued to be associated with queer people throughout the 21st century.” Later, before World War II, gay men wore red neckties and other accessories to identify one another.

Lesbians inspired by the ancient Greek poet Sappho’s poem describing a female lover wore violet to symbolise their sexuality – a reference to the line “all the violet tiaras, braided rosebuds, dill and crocus twined around your young neck”. The colour’s popularity exploded after a 1926 French play was censored for using a bouquet of violets to signify lesbian love. In response, Parisian lesbians wore and gifted violets to one another in solidarity. Dr Cole adds: “Pinkie rings were also worn by gay men and lesbians. While not completely a signifier, it was one of those things that hinted at it, which is discussed in a lot of oral histories.”

Colour can denote everything from mood to music taste and for queer people, coded colours help show pride loudly or subtly, depending on how safe they feel. These cues are still present today, especially for those of us who feel safer presenting our sexuality in a subtle way to lessen the threat of harassment and abuse. Student Kate Rice, who often wears the pink and purple colours of the bisexual pride flag, says: “I haven’t had super successful experiences coming out in certain aspects of my life – it’s a nice way for me to still feel happy within myself, so I can still wear these [symbols] around people that maybe didn’t accept it.”

Androgynous model and activist Somriddho Dasgupta loves wearing colours that represent androgyny, including pink, purple and blue. He says: “When you let yourself be free, in a way, you also let others experience that freedom through identification. It is powerful.”

These signals can also be a cheat method for finding dates. Bisexual student Kendal explains: “When I’m out in a club or something and I see a really hot girl and I see a bracelet or badge on a jacket with the pride flag, I’m like, ‘Okay, I might have a shot here!'”

In the modern day, our symbols help identify allies too. Cosmetic doctor Vincent Wong explains: “When I first started going to the gym, I felt really uncomfortable with having a male personal trainer. I thought I’d be judged and one day, I noticed that he had a rainbow flag as his screen cover. I immediately felt more at ease and it turns out he’s an ally!”

“There have been numerous cases in the past where people in power haven’t been able to understand a person’s problem because they don’t share their background,” Somriddho elaborates. “I really like that places such as hospital have their queer staff wearing pride badges because it allows queer patients to trust staff and feel safe.” 

Beginning as a subtle way to find one another, or profess love, these symbols became more political following the persecution of homosexual people in the concentration camps of Nazi Germany. While in the camps, homosexual men were forced to wear an upside-down pink triangle as a means of identification.

In 1972, the memoir of gay concentration camp survivor Josef Kohout, written by Heinz Heger, was published, raising awareness of the pink triangle’s use. In response, in 1973 a German gay liberation group called Homosexuelle Aktion Westberlin called for queer people to wear the triangle for the dual purpose of memorialising those who died in the camps and protesting the continued discrimination of LGBTQIA+ people.

The symbol even pops up on one of Frank N. Furter’s costumes in the 1975 film The Rocky Horror Picture Show and, in 1987, it was inverted and used by the organisation ACT UP to draw attention to the unequal impact of AIDS on gay and bisexual men by placing it above the slogan “SILENCE = DEATH“.

The triangle still crops up today and, like the word ‘queer’, it has been reclaimed to protest its origins. Kate paid homage to it as a teenager by trying to wear pink every day. She says: “Pink was considered a masculine colour until WWII and then Hitler used it to identify gay men, so it was associated with being feminine. So, [wearing pink] was also an acknowledgement of how stupid gender roles were. I really liked the symbol of solidarity it became after the war.”

In 1978, after the Stonewall Riots of 1969 kicked off a reinvigorated fight for equality, artist Gilbert Baker created the rainbow flag, each colour representing a different aspect of queer community, including red for life, violet for spirit and green for nature.

The flag is continually reimagined in fashion but one of the most powerful ways is as a pin worn by allies and queer people alike. Blogger and activist Eva Echo often wears a rainbow flag pin: “Rather than specifically going for a trans flag, I opt for something more inclusive. I don’t want to say to everyone, ‘I’m trans, look at my pin’, I want to say, ‘We’re diverse’.”

Although I love flying the flag by wearing rainbow dungarees, the yellow stripe, which symbolises sunlight, resonates with me the most. I have an array of bright yellow outfits for days when I want to celebrate my queerness in a safe way.

Bee, personal stylist and founder of the brand QueerYorker, is “cautious” about incorporating queer symbols into her clients’ style. “It’s important to note that we still live in a time where queer people’s safety is always in jeopardy. Hate crimes towards queer presenting people are still going on, especially for queer people of colour.”

To help her clients feel proud and safe, she picks flag colours to incorporate into their wardrobes. “I do it in subtle ways such as getting a sweater that is a colour within the flag, like the colour orange – which means healing. That way it’s personal to the client and they know the meaning behind that particular orange.”

Although we are able to exist legally in the UK, being LGBTQIA+ is still criminalised in 72 countries and is potentially punishable by death in 11. When it’s unsafe to wear an out-and-proud pride flag on your clothes, queer people adapt.  

Wong, who is originally from Malaysia where homosexuality remains illegal, loves accessorising with a pride flag brooch and wearing the flag colours in the UK. He has to adapt, though, when visiting family in Malaysia: “As using colours from the flag has become a habit now, I do the same when I go home for the holidays but I choose more ‘conservative’ colours, such as dark green and darker shades of blue rather than bright pink.”

For Snigdha, a student who identifies as bisexual and ace, the rainbow flag “symbolises how queer people are confident in their identity” and is a sign of a safe space. Even though homosexuality was decriminalised in India in 2018, “That doesn’t mean the lives of queer, trans and non-binary people has improved in any way. By wearing this symbol that invites hate with pride, we can reclaim our identity.”

Today, LGBTQIA+ symbols are sold by fashion giants – who have been repeatedly accused of labour exploitation – during Pride Month. While mainstream representation is important, these pandering campaigns feel disingenuous when the same companies ignore queer interests for the rest of the year. Snigdha says: “Simply pasting a rainbow or a pun about queer people on a shirt doesn’t make you an ally. I’d rather buy from transgender and non-binary artists than a fast fashion brand mass-producing clothes and exploiting many marginalised communities in the process.”

Many in the community avoid purchasing from fast fashion brands which have adopted our symbols for profit. Kate elaborates: “It feels so hypocritical, especially as a white, queer person. It feels like I would be conveniently forgetting my own privilege if I participated.”

Speaking of privilege, Eva reminds us that for trans people, clothing is an armour to remind the world of their gender. She explains: “You’re saying ‘I’m feminine’ or ‘masculine’ in a very visual way. For example, your face, you can’t really get away from certain features of your face that let people know that you were assigned male or female at birth, but you have control over your clothing. It’s your way of saying, ‘I am feminine, please treat me as such’.” 

Considering we’ve all been sequestered in our homes this year, it would be easy to assume that the importance of queer fashion symbolism has lessened. Yet as Bee explains, it is more crucial than ever. “Colours and queer symbols are imperative methods of communication between LGBTQIA+ [people]. With COVID and lockdowns, there are no safe queer spaces for us to get together so the next best thing is to communicate with other members of the community while out by wearing items that have the pride flag.”

Dr Cole says: “With lots of these symbols, through the 20th century they were the kind of symbols where you had to have the cultural capital and language to be able to read them.” These days, our most iconic symbol, the rainbow flag – redesigned in 2018 by Daniel Quasar to better represent BIPOC and transgender folk – is easily recognisable so we have adapted to show pride in more nuanced ways.

To a heterosexual world, wearing a colourful gender-conforming outfit contains no hidden messages but for a queer person who knows the meaning behind their chosen colours, it is a coded message of empowerment. Society works hard to pin us to earth with strict expectations of what femininity, masculinity and androgyny are supposed to look like; these seemingly immaterial colours give us wings to fly above oppression.

After centuries of (continuing) persecution, these loud symbols, radiant flags and subtle signifiers are our fashion-forward way of finding each other, memorialising our ancestors and their sacrifices, showing solidarity with other marginalised groups and, above all, portraying defiant pride. As Kate says: “It’s about pride, community and celebration.”

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

Butch Fashion Is Anything But Stereotypical

How Makeup Helps Me Explore My Gender Identity

The Radiant Beauty Of Queer Parenthood

How Queer People Wear Colour To Celebrate, Communicate & Thrive published first on https://mariakistler.tumblr.com/

[elmossresearch]

Contemporary art & history

“My Bed” is an installation piece by the artist Tracey Emin, who belonged to the Young British Artists generation and her “degree of fame stands out even among [them]” (Grovenick, 2005, p.148). She was born in 1963 in Margate, left school at 13 and started her practise in the eighties. Her work is very much influenced by her experiences as a woman and is known to be remarkably sincere and non-ironic, which seems to be unusual for the young British artist genation. She’s well known in the art community as being the "bad girl of British art", for her controversial works that have been seen as non-art, and also for her blatant expression of femininity.

“My bed” was first made in 1998 and first exhibited in the Toyko’s Sagacho Exhibition Space. It was shortlisted for the 1999 Turner prize and exhibited in the Tate Britain. Currently “My Bed” is on long term loan from the Duerckheim Collection in 2015 to the Tate. This art piece was very controversial in the public eye at the time, and still is not entirely accepted, as many people argued that it didn’t count as art which was probably part of the reason why it became so famous. It “doubtless remains that competition’s best-known work- though she didn’t even win the prize” (Grovenick, 2005, p.148). The artwork included dirty underwear, bottles of alcohol, cigarettes and general bedroom mess. The piece shows a chaotic, disheveled bed covered in common detritus. The dimensions of the piece aren’t recordable as they are changed by where the piece is installed due to physical constraints, and to how it is arranged each time it is set up- it isn’t exactly the same every time.

“My Bed” was created inadvertently by the artist during a depressive time in Tracey Emin’s life, after some relationship problems in her life - we even see these indicated in the piece by the used condoms and pregnancy test. After binge drinking heavily, she retreated to her bed for four days, only drinking alcohol and not leaving the bed. Eventually her survival instinct won over her nihilism and she left the bed to drink water, returning to her bed and seeing it again in the state she had created. She then moved it into a gallery - “By reframing it as art, Emin has turned her worst moment into her most transcendent.” (Hudson, 2017)

A lot of how the bed seems to be interpreted also depends on how it is exhibited and with what works. At one point it was exhibited by some of Turner’s works and Emin compared her chaotic sheets were compared to the tumultuous seas and skies of Turner’s paintings (Hudson, 2017). Emin later chose to exhibit “My Bed” alongside some of Francis Bacon’s paintings when it was exhibited in the Tate, her reasoning that “his life was pretty chaotic he just did what he wanted to do” and that “he was a maverick within society” which she felt resonated with her work. (Emin, VHS Pile, 2013)

This piece got a lot of media attention at the time and controversy about whether it was an art piece or not. People would compare “My Bed” to their own beds and ask if that was art, and Emin actually enjoyed this response as it meant people were relating to the work.(VHS Pile, 2013) When people would give the criticism that ‘anyone could put their bed in a gallery’ Emin responded by saying "Well, they didn't, did they? No one had ever done that before.” However in the art world, the piece lost kudos for becoming so mainstream. As said by Marshall Mcluhan, “Art is anything you can get away with” - just announcing something is art and putting it in an artistic space is enough to make it into art. A teenager showed the reality of this perception by  a prank that became an artwork,

“Khayatan put Nguyen’s glasses on the floor below an official-looking piece of paper to see how it would be received by gallery-goers. The work seemed to hit a chord with the public, striking in its simplicity, yet – probably – a challenging commentary on the limits of individual perception.” (Hunt, 2016)

This piece was photographed by gallery-goers and well received generally, and then documented by the tweets, which in turn created it into what some called a performance piece. If something is declared as art, and received as art at least by one person, or even just the artist, this would lead us to believe it is in fact art.

Similarly, this piece and Emin’s work in general also influenced the creation of the Stuckism movement which was created by one of her ex-boyfriends, Billy Childish. The name of the movement itself came from her referring to his artwork as “stuck!” The movement is all about opposing conceptual art and the professional art business, as they think it is killing the art world, and not real art. They continue to protest the Turner prize every year, and their movement can only thrive because of artists like Emin. One of the signature pieces from the Stuckism movement was directly referencing the work “My bed”, called “Sir Nicholas Serota Makes an Acquisitions Decision” where he examines a pair of ladies underwear, trying to tell if “Is it a genuine Emin (£10,000) Or a worthless fake?”

There was also a performance piece made with the bed called “Two Naked Men Jump into Tracey's Bed” which only caused the piece to become more famous. Cai Yuan and Jian Jun Xi jumped shirtless onto Tracey Emin “My bed” with words written over their bodies and proceeded to have a fifteen minute pillow fight that required Emin to return to the work and remake the bed into its original state. The two performance artists were arrested, but not charged as both the gallery and Emin didn’t take it any further. The Guardian summarises their intent as non-destructive saying the artists “insist[ed] their performance was not an attack on Emin. "We are simply trying to react to the work and the self-promotion implicit in it. I hope the security guards see it in that spirit."” (The Guardian, 1999)

References:

Grosenick, U., 2005. Art Now Vol. II. Taschen GmbH.

The Guardian. 1999. Satirists jump into Tracey's bed | UK news | The Guardian. [ONLINE] Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/uk/1999/oct/25/fiachragibbons1. [Accessed 15 March 2018].

Bibliography:

Books

Grosenick, U., 2005. Art Now Vol. II. Taschen GmbH.

Digital Sources

Videos:

VHS Pile. (2013). Tracey Emin - The South Bank Show. [Online Video]. 21 February 2013. Available from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OxaoAy9oNtY. [Accessed: 15 March 2018].

Cai Yuan. (2011). Two artists jump on Tracy Emin's bed. [Online Video]. 16 June 2011. Available from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hOxPYrdLD8Y. [Accessed: 15 March 2018].

Tate. (2015). Tracey Emin – My Bed | TateShots. [Online Video]. 2 April 2015. Available from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uv04ewpiqSc. [Accessed: 15 March 2018].

Articles:

Tracey Emin. 2018. Biography - Tracey Emin Studio. [ONLINE] Available at: http://www.traceyeminstudio.com/biography/. [Acces sed 15 March 2018].

Tate. 2018. ‘My Bed’, Tracey Emin, 1998 | Tate . [ONLINE] Available at: http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/emin-my-bed-l03662. [Accessed 15 March 2018]

The Guardian. 2017. Tracey Emin’s My Bed: a violent mess of sex and death | Art and design | The Guardian. [ONLINE] Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2017/oct/27/tracey-emin-my-bed-violent-mess-sex-death. [Accessed 15 March 2018].

Modern Classics: Tracey Emin - My Bed, 1998 | artlead. 2018. Modern Classics: Tracey Emin - My Bed, 1998 | artlead. [ONLINE] Available at: http://artlead.net/content/journal/modern-classics-tracey-emin-bed-1998/. [Accessed 15 March 2018].

The Art Story. 2018. Tracey Emin Biography, Art, and Analysis of Works | The Art Story. [ONLINE] Available at: http://www.theartstory.org/artist-emin-tracey.htm. [Accessed 15 March 2018].

Hudson, M. 2017. Tracey Emin's unmade bed 'uncannily similar' to Turner? Don't make me laugh. The Telegraph.[ONLINE] Available at: https://www.telegraph.co.uk/art/what-to-see/tracey-emins-unmade-bed-uncannily-similar-turner-dont-make-laugh/. [Accessed 15 March 2018].

The Guardian. 1999. Satirists jump into Tracey's bed | UK news | The Guardian. [ONLINE] Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/uk/1999/oct/25/fiachragibbons1. [Accessed 15 March 2018].

Hunt, E. 2016. Pair of glasses left on US gallery floor mistaken for art | US news | The Guardian. [ONLINE] Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2016/may/27/pair-of-glasses-left-on-us-gallery-floor-mistaken-for-art. [Accessed 15 March 2018].

Cole, A. 2015. Tracey Emin's My Bed at Tate Britain, review: In the flesh, its frankness is still arresting | The Independent. [ONLINE] Available at: https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/reviews/tracey-emins-my-bed-at-tate-britain-review-in-the-flesh-its-frankness-is-still-arresting-10144882.html. [Accessed 15 March 2018].

[papermoonloveslucy]

LUCY AND ANN-MARGRET

S2;E20 ~ February 2, 1970

Directed by Herbert Kenwith ~ Choreography by Jack Baker ~ Written by Milt Josefsberg and Ray Singer

Synopsis

A chance meeting with Ann-Margret leads to songwriter Craig performing with her on television.

Regular Cast

Lucille Ball (Lucy Carter), Lucie Arnaz (Kim Carter), Desi Arnaz Jr. (Craig Carter), Gale Gordon (Harrison Otis Carter)

Guest Cast

Ann-Margret (Herself) is one of Hollywood's most enduring sex symbols, singers, and actors. She made her screen debut in 1961's A Pocketful of Miracles and followed up with the critically acclaimed film musicals State Fair and Bye Bye Birdie. After this episode of “Here's Lucy” she was nominated for Oscars for Carnal Knowledge (1971) and Tommy (1975). In February 1969, she appeared on “The Jack Benny Birthday Special”, which also featured Lucille Ball, although the two did not share  screen time. At the end of 1969, Lucille Ball guested on her special “From Hollywood With Love.”  In 2010, Ann-Margret won her first Emmy Award for her guest appearance on “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit.” 

John O'Neill (Walter, Ann-Margret's Pianist)

Although billed as ‘Walter’ in the final credits, Ann-Margret calls him ‘Wally’ in the dialogue.

Gary Morton (Voice Introducing Ann-Margret) was a comedian who worked the famed ‘Borscht Belt’ in the Catskills Mountains. He met Lucille Ball shortly after her divorce from Desi Arnaz and they married in November 1961. At her request, Morton gave up his nightclub career and became a producer of “The Lucy Show.” Morton also served as a warm-up comic for the show’s studio audience. He played the Emcee in “Lucy and the Andrews Sisters” (S2;E6) and will make two more on-camera appearances on “Here’s Lucy.” Morton passed away in 1999.

Throughout the episode, Morton’s loud guffaw can be heard on the soundtrack. 

Ann-Margret's back-up dancers (3 men and 3 women) perform uncredited.

The much anticipated episode was the subject of a TV Guide "Close Up”. It mentions that the singer was repaying Ball for appearing on her earlier special...

“Ann-Margret: From Hollywood With Love” in December 1969. In it, Ball played herself and an autograph hound named ‘Celebrity Lu’ (above). 

The date this episode first aired (February 2, 1970) the 27th Annual Golden Globe Awards was held. Lucille Ball was nominated for Best Actress in a Musical or Comedy Series, but lost to a tie between Carol Burnett and Julie Sommars in “The Governor and J.J.” John Wayne also won for True Grit. Both Burnett and Wayne were guest stars of Lucille Ball’s on her sitcoms. Joan Crawford (who guest-starred on “The Lucy Show”) received a life-time achievement award. 

Two days later, on February 4, 1970, Lucie and Desi Jr. appeared with their father on NBC’s “Kraft Music Hall”. Vivian Vance and Bernadette Peters were also part of the cast. Desi Sr. performed "Babalu" and "Cuban Pete" and teamed with his children on "The Straw Hat Song”.  Lucille Ball does not appear. 

In the DVD introduction to the episode, Desi Arnaz Jr. says that he had a crush on Ann-Margret since he was ten years old.  At the beginning of the episode, Kim says her brother is “barely seventeen.”  This was true for Desi Jr. when the show was being filmed, but he celebrated his 17th birthday two weeks before the show first aired. 

Lucy Carter describes her aspirations for her children:

KIM: “Mom wants me to be a wife and a mother.” LUCY: “Yes. And in that order.”

Lucy wants Craig to be a doctor, while he wants to be a songwriter. 

LUCY: “We’ll compromise. You’ll be the only songwriter in the world to make house calls.” 

In the early part of the 20th century, physicians often visited the home to treat patients, a practice that is virtually unheard of in most parts of the country today. 

The ad soliciting new songs Craig finds in the newspaper gives an address of 718 North Gower. In reality, this is the address of Paramount Studios (formerly Desilu) where the show was filmed.

Lucy hopes Craig becomes as famous as Simon & Carbunkle. Kim corrects her: Simon & Garfunkle. In 1970 Paul Simon and Art Garfunkle released the album “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” Lucy later says Craig sings as well as Engelbert Pumpernickle. Craig corrects her: Engelbert Humperdinck. In a previous episode, Lucy pronounced the English pop singer's name “Englebert Dumperhinck.” Lucy is turning into a regular Mrs. Malaprop!  

Craig calls himself “this generation's Cole Porter.”  Cole Porter (1891-1964) was a songwriter who wrote both lyrics and music. He was responsible for the score of DuBarry Was A Lady, a Broadway musical that was filmed in 1943 with Lucille Ball. The show included the Cole Porter song “Friendship,” which Lucy Ricardo later sang with Ethel Mertz in “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3, above).  

When Craig needs $100 for his song to be published, he wants to ask his Uncle Harry. 

LUCY: “Uncle Harry wouldn't have given Francis Scott Key $100 for 'The Star Spangled Banner.'”

“The Star Spangled Banner” is the national anthem of the United States. On September 14, 1814, Francis Scott Key (1779-1843) wrote a poem which was eventually set to music by John Stafford Smith. It was adopted as the anthem in 1931. 

Wally, Ann-Margret’s arranger, suggest she sing Craig’s song as a duet - perhaps with Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin. Frank Sinatra’s hit single from 1969 called “My Way” re-entered the charts in 1970, spending nearly a hundred weeks in the top forty. In 1970 singer Dean Martin, who was one of Lucille Ball’s favorite performers, was still producing new episodes of “The Dean Martin Show” (above) as well as starring in the feature film Airport. 

On her coffee table is a copy of the December 1966 issue of House & Garden Magazine. Ann-Margret obviously doesn’t have much time for reading! 

Lucy Carter seems to have no qualms about leaving her 16 year-old son alone in the apartment of a 28 year-old woman known to the world as a ‘the original sex kitten’!  Offstage, however, Lucille Ball was not quite as understanding when Desi Jr. took up with 23 year-old divorcee Patti Duke, whose onscreen reputation was considerably more wholesome. In tabloid press, Lucille Ball was quoted as saying “Leave My Son Alone...He’s Only 17″ and “Patti Duke Used My Son and Victimized Us”. 

When Ann-Margret is slipping into “something more comfortable” (an age old film and TV trope intimating seduction), Craig practices his dancing alone to the strains of “I'm in the Mood for Love” written by Jimmy McHugh in 1935. Ann-Margret covered the song in 1962 on her album “On the Way Up.” While Ann-Margret’s version of the song was on RCA Records and had lyrics, the LP Craig selects has the Capital Records label (the rainbow ring) and is instrumental only. Coincidentally, Guy Lombardo included the song on his 1958 release on Capitol Records, although the version heard is not that cover.  

While Ann-Margret is off changing, Craig has three wordless minutes on screen alone to imagine his evening with the noted sex symbol. Here, Desi Jr. does some very funny and charming silent acting depicting the nerves of a first romantic encounter. Until she breaks the spell by appearing in a chenille robe, fuzzy slippers, and curlers! 

Craig and Ann-Margret perform the song "Country Magic" which in reality was not by Craig or Desi Arnaz Jr. but by Steve March, the son of Mel Torme and adopted son of Arnaz family friend, Hal March. 

Steve March appeared onscreen as one of Craig's high school friends in “Lucy and the Bogie Affair” (S2;E13) and will appear in a future episode guest starring Sammy Davis Jr. When Craig referred to his friend Steve in past episodes, this is likely who he has in mind.  

The pink paisley Fender telecaster guitar Craig plays during his number with Ann-Margret belonged to Jimmy Burton (below), Elvis Presley's number one guitar player. 

Burton actually played the guitar solo on the soundtrack. 

Unusually, after leaving Craig with Ann-Margret, the Lucy character is not seen again until the final fade-out. Lucille Ball is off-screen for 10 minutes of her own 24-minute show!  

In December 1968, just as “Here’s Lucy” was starting, Lucille Ball and Ann-Margret shared the cover of Coronet Magazine. Lucy wrote about her teenagers while Ann-Margret modeled see-through fashions. 

Lucy Carter wants Craig to be a doctor, not a musician. On “I Love Lucy” Lucy Ricardo wanted Little Ricky (Keith Thibodeaux, above) to be a doctor, not a musician!  

When Ann-Margret changes into “something more comfortable” she comes out wearing the same blue chenille bathrobe that Lucy wore in “Lucy and Tennessee Ernie's Fun Farm” (S1;E23, left). It looks very similar to the one that Vivian Vance wore in 1952’s “Breaking the Lease” (ILL S1;E18, center) and other episodes. It is likely that it is the same robe from the Desilu wardrobe racks!  

FAST FORWARD!

A year later, Ann-Margret is mentioned as one of the wishes Craig would ask of a magic lamp in “Lucy and Aladdin’s Lamp” (S3;E21). Craig must have forgotten this lengthy encounter when he mentioned his wish. 

Both Lucille Ball and Ann-Margret were on hand for “America’s Tribute to Bob Hope” on January 2, 1988. 

In 2000, Lucie Arnaz and Steve March-Torme (author of “Country Magic”), both children of megastars, did a cabaret act together. This was March’s cabaret debut. As of this writing, two decades later, they are both still performing in cabaret - just not together. 

Memory Lapse! Lucy tells Ann-Margret that the last time Craig sang in public it was “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” Actually, Craig sang in his school musical in “Lucy and Carol Burnett” (S1;E17, above), in “Lucy and Tennessee Ernie's Fun Farm” (S1;E23), as Bing Crosby in “Lucy and the Andrews Sisters” (S2;E6), and in “Lucy and the Generation Gap” (S2;E12) – all in front of audiences!  

Hey Lady! At the end of “Country Magic,” Lucy bursts from the wings and shouts to the studio audience “My son the songwriter!”  If this was one of Ann-Margret’s television specials (as was earlier mentioned), a random mother bragging about her son is not something you’d expect to see!

Can I Have a Drum Roll... Please? Oddly, there is absolutely no mention of Craig’s former musical obsession - the drums! A skilled percussionist in real life, there were many episodes in which played drums and even a couple that revolved around it. 

This episode is a terrific showcase for Desi Arnaz Jr. He does his best with the comedy, but really shines in the musical number, where his dancing is as his sharp as his musicianship. Ann-Margret seems to be enjoying herself and the episode is fun to watch, although not particularly funny.

[thesinglesjukebox]

The Singles Jukebox Celebrates 30 Years of Rhythm Nation 1814 (a Janet Jackson retrospective)

Janet Jackson’s had one hell of a career. It’d be glittering even if you were to cut the album she released 30 years ago this week out of history. And historic is what Rhythm Nation 1814 is, not like a war, but like a discovery; it was groundbreaking and influential and so much pop released in its wake owes it a debt of gratitude. The album contained seven top 10 singles in the U.S., each with indelible melodies, state-of-the-art beats and vivid music videos. Janet was always on the radio, always on TV, and welcome everywhere she went. She endured the failure of two albums and the weight of family baggage before reinventing herself, seizing artistic control and having one of the longest and brightest imperial phases of any pop star. Sex positive, romantic, assertive and wise, she’s an icon whose brilliance comes as much from how her songs make us feel about ourselves as they do about her.

Her familial connections might help explain her, but they didn’t define or limit her. She’s a sympathetic performer, an innovator in the development of music video as an art form (someone in her camp needs to fix up her spotty presence on video streaming sites, people need to see these videos in HD) and a smart, underrated songwriter in her own right. There’s a lot of Jackson in Beyonce, in Rihanna, in Britney, and in any woman who makes us smile and makes us dance. Because she did all those things over and over again.

Here’s a bunch of songs by Miss Jackson that moved us, or just made us move:

Katherine St Asaph on “Nasty” [8.14]

Date the quote: “[His] dance cuts have a format-friendly, artificial sheen … but she seems more concerned with identity than playlists.” This is not from 2019, about a post-Spotify pop star (I cheated a bit, leaving out a reference to “Arthur Baker dance breaks”) but from the ’80s. Specifically, it’s from the Rolling Stone review of Janet Jackson’s’s Control, the first half of which is a review of a comparatively nothing Jermaine Jackson album. This was typical: if press didn’t dismiss her as an biographical afterthought who happened to still sing, they wrote about her alongside her family, and specifically her brother. (This continues to this day: Note the sustained attention given to her response to Leaving Neverland, which ultimately was to join her family in condemning it.) The line everyone quotes is “Ms. Jackson if you’re nasty,” but more pointed is one of the lines that precedes it: “my last name is Control.”

The lyric to “Nasty” is full of that sort of role-reversal, like a swordfight where one guy yoinks the other guy’s sword — the sword being the “nasty groove.” But said groove possibly illustrates the lyric even better. Made by producers/former The Time members/future creative partners Jam & Lewis out of big ’80s percussion, plus clanks and repurposed orchestral stabs from an Ensoniq Mirage, one of the earliest sampling keyboards, it doesn’t sound martial exactly, like some of Jackson’s later work, but certainly sounds stark. It sounds like a challenge, one Janet takes up: her past soubrette voice drops to a throatier register, then is stoked into roars. The beat’s not quite its own thing; “Nasty” resembles experiments like Herbie Hancock’s “Metal Beat,” and in turn much of New Jack Swing resembles it. But how Jam & Lewis described it was a rapper’s beat — now standard for pop or R&B singers, from Destiny’s Child to Ariana Grande and Billie Eilish, when they want a tougher image. Meanwhile, Britney took Janet’s soft spoken-word interlude “I could learn to like this” and extrapolated an entire career from it — and covered it, unusually early in her career — but simplified it, mostly collapsing the context of family ties and dignity and creative control onto one axis: sex. But what they’re all doing is asserting this kind of Control.

Part of appreciating songs from the ’80s and ’90s is prying them out of the clutches of the era’s pop-culture jokification– I do like MST3K, but their sort of snappy “Nasty” joke is kind of what I mean. More than one article/restaurant review/listicle attempts to identify, meme-ily, Janet’s idea of “nasty food” (Janet’s answer, dubiously, was whole squid). A certain comment by a certain head of state gave the song a late-breaking sales boost But put on some ’80s radio (or a contemporary playlist of people copying ’80s radio) and wait for “Nasty” to come on. The rest of the radio will flinch.

Kat Stevens on “What Have You Done For Me Lately?” [8.67]

“What Have You Done For Me Lately?” is a sparse, angry snap of a song, the overspill of weeks and months of gradually-building resentment. It’s taken a nudge from bezzie mate Paula Abdul for Janet to fully admit her relationship has gone sour: her once fun-loving, adoring beau has become complacent, content to put his feet up on the sofa and take Janet for granted. Should she leave? She loves him! Or does she? Should love really feel like a heavy weight, pressing down on you? Like your stomach won’t stop churning? Like letting the phone ring out unanswered rather than deal with his temper? Like maybe it’s your fault that he’s like this? “Who’s right? Who’s wrong?” Janet is determined to make a decision with a clear head, but the anxiety and hormones are bubbling underneath (“I never ask for more than I deserve…“). Thankfully Jam & Lewis are on hand with a clinical, whipcrack beat — snap out of it, Janet! The tension manifests itself in her zigzagging shoulders, hunched and strained and contorted, primed to lash out – just as he walks through the door! Janet is wary, but her dude is on his best behaviour, puppy-dog eyes, I’ll do better from now on, I swear. They dance perfectly in time together, remembering the good times: all is forgiven. Surely Janet hasn’t fallen for the same old lines, doomed to repeat the cycle? Paula is rolling her eyes: ugh, not this bullshit again… Then, as the happy couple laugh together over dinner, Janet glances back at us, and the smile falls from her face. The decision has been made. As soon as Mr ‘Not All Men’ leaves for work in the morning, she’s putting her passport in a safety deposit box and setting up a secret savings account to fund her getaway. The plan is in motion. You’ve got one life to life.

Thomas Inskeep on “Diamonds” (Herb Alpert ft. Janet Jackson) [6.80]

After “The Pleasure Principle,” this might actually be my favorite Janet Jackson single (even though she’s technically the featured artist on it). “Diamonds,” written and produced by Jimmy “Jam” Harris and Terry Lewis for Herb Alpert’s 1987 album Keep Your Eye on Me, is, in all but name, a Jam/Lewis/Janet record — with a few Alpert trumpet flourishes. The beats rock hard, and Janet delivers what may be (and certainly was at the time) her most IDGAF vocal: you’re gonna get Miss Jackson (because you’re clearly nasty) some diamonds, aren’t you?

Alfred Soto on “The Pleasure Principle” [8.43]

For all the banter over the years about the cold and steel of Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis’ beats for Control, the coldest and steeliest they had no hand in creating. Songwriter Monte Moir, like Jam and Lewis also a The Time alum, stumbled on the title first: “I had to figure out what it was I was trying to say, I just stumbled into the title and realized it fit.” Sung by Jackson in her airiest, most insouciant coo, “The Pleasure Principle” starts with bass synth and cowbell before settling down into a matter-of-fact tale of a night of sin. To visualize the concept, choreographer Barry Lather put together one of Jackson’s most iconic videos, a masterpiece of athleticism involving chairs. Too cold and steely for the audience, or perhaps the hype cycle for a sixth single had exhausted itself: “The Pleasure Principle” missed the top ten in the summer of 1987, stopping at #14. So ignore the single mix and revel in Shep Pettibone’s Long Vocal Remix.

Kat Stevens on “Let’s Wait Awhile” [6.60]

Can you have an erection-section classic that’s primarily about abstinence? “Let’s Wait Awhile” has all the features of a late-night Magic FM request slot regular: soft electric piano, finger clicks instead of drums, lyrics about promises and feelings and stars shining bright. But this message is about trust, not lust. It takes courage to admit that you’re not ready, and it requires faith in the other person that they’re not going to be a dick about it. I remember the advice columns in Just 17 repeating over and over that as Informed Young Women we shouldn’t be pressured into sex, which was all well and good until it actually came to the act of Doing It, whereupon the fug of hormones and internalised misogyny meant that all rationality went out of the window. It’s the sign of how strong and confident Janet is in her relationship, that she can be ‘real honest’ and discuss her concerns freely with her partner, without worrying that he’s going to a) dump her b) tell his mates that she’s frigid or c) ‘persuade’ her round to his point of view (*shudder*). If he’s not willing to wait, maybe he’s not such an ideal person to be doing this sort of stuff with in the first place? I can hear the dude whining to his mate now: “I took her out for dinner and all I got was a perfectly vocalised key change!” Just 17 would be proud of you, Janet.

Jessica Doyle on “Miss You Much” [7.83]

A little context: in March 1989 Natalie Cole released “Miss You Like Crazy,” a ballad built for Cole to sing wide about longing. In June Paula Abdul released the third single off Forever Your Girl, “Cold Hearted,” whose video made a point of its group choreography. And then in late August came “Miss You Much,” the first single from Rhythm Nation 1814. Did Janet Jackson have beef with her ex-choreographer? Was that the kind of thing people talked about, in the pre-poptimist, pre-TMZ era? Because in retrospect “Miss You Much” looks like a dismissal of “Cold Hearted,” cool and upright where the latter was David-Fincher-directed sleazy. (By contrast, the director of “Miss You Much,” Dominic Sena, had already treated Jackson with respect in the video for “The Pleasure Principle.”) But also “Miss You Much” plays as a broader statement, a refusal of expectations. There’s nothing sad or ballad-like about it. There’s that opening high of “sho-o-ot,” and then Jackson’s on a roll: it’s all about her, the deliciousness of her feeling; she can barely bother to describe the “you” being missed so much besides the blanditries of smiling face and warm embrace. The power in “I’ll tell your mama/I’ll tell your friends/I’ll tell anyone whose heart can comprehend” isn’t in the longing; it’s in how much she relishes being the one who gets to do the telling. By 1989 she was in control enough to not have to utter the word once. “Miss You Much” isn’t a deep song, didn’t set out to accomplish as much as the title track or later songs like “That’s the Way Love Goes” or “Together Again” would. But thirty years later it still looks and sounds like (what we now call) a power move.

Katie Gill on “Rhythm Nation” [8.57]

How does one try to condense the reach and influence of “Rhythm Nation” in a single blurb? Entire articles have been written about this song and video (because really, you can’t talk about the song without talking about the video). It’s influenced singers, dancers, directors, choreographers. It won a Grammy as well as two MTV Music Video Awards when those awards actually mattered. The choreography is perfect. Jackson and her dancers move with military-like precision, flawlessly executing maneuvers and creating a dance that would almost instantly become part of the popular consciousness. The sound is amazing. That bass groove is so tight, adding a layer of funk which the guitar takes to further levels. The tune is an absolute earworm, the chorus is iconic, and Jackson’s vocals are at the best of their game. But I think the most important part of “Rhythm Nation” is that this absolute banger of a song, this masterclass in choreography, has remarkably idealistic lyrics. Jackson’s “Rhythm Nation” yearns towards a racially and socially conscious utopia as it attempts to unite people to join together and create this utopia. In a lesser artist, these lyrics would be out and out corny. But when wrapped up in the final package, the lyrics go from corny to believable. Suddenly, the idea of the whole world helping each other or rising up in protest doesn’t sound so far-fetched.

Alfred Soto on “Escapade” [7.67]

With solo credits as common as hair metal solos in Janet Jackson music, I often listen to tracks like “Escapade” and wonder: what did Janet Jackson contribute? Lyrics? Sure. But she has to write them around a Jimmy Jam-Terry Lewis melody, no? Or, as is no doubt the case, she comes up with her own vocal melody to accompany their chord progressions. According to Jam, the trio had “Nowhere to Run” in mind: first as a cover song, then as inspiration. “Escapade” hopscotches away from the sense of danger animating the Martha and the Vandellas chestnut; in 1989, into the eclipse of a grim decade for black lives, looking forward to Friday and drinks and friends would have to do. Over Jam and Lewis’ unrelenting thwack, Jackson sing-songs a valentine to a shy boy whom she hopes will join her in — what? The sheer euphoria of the bridge — a melody as bright as a returned smile — suggests worlds of possibilities when the check’s cashed and the night’s young. After all, MINNEAPOLIS!

Leah Isobel on “Alright” [7.14]

Rhythm Nation might have more banging singles, and it might have songs that more directly diagnose the ills of late capitalism, but no song on the record better encapsulates its utopian aims than “Alright.” Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis famously left the high end of Janet’s songs empty to provide space for her delicate soprano; here, they fill the low end with vocal samples, percussion, submerged synth blats, and tense bass licks. Instead of singing high for the whole track, however, Janet buries lyrical references to magic spells and the end of the world in her lower register, where they blend into the rest of the song. It’s only on the chorus, and particularly on her swooping vocal runs as she riffs on the phrase “you’re alright with me,” that she surfaces from the swirl. On a record where she spends so much time and thought discussing what’s wrong around her, here she takes the time to see and acknowledge what’s right. I don’t know that I’ve heard a better sonic analogue for finding relief from chaos: one voice against a wall of voices and sounds, getting lost and being found over and over to the comforting rhythm of a pop song.

Edward Okulicz on “Black Cat” [6.57]

“Black Cat” was never the huge stylistic U-turn it was perceived as. Janet’s brother had dabbled in rock guitars, and this is in that vein too, while still being of a piece with the other songs on the album. Where it succeeds is because it doesn’t just lean into rock, it’s as credible a rock song as it is a dance-pop song — the riff, which Jackson wrote herself, kicks ass, the drums shake a room as much as the cavernous thuds of her contemporaneous singles, and the song’s melody and the fierce vocal performance straddle both worlds. And if you don’t like the mix there’s like 900 different versions with 2000 different guitarists — only a slight exaggeration. Its overall success is testament to Janet’s persona, sure, because nothing she released could have failed at this point, but you can’t go to Number One with single number six off an album without your usual co-writers and producers unless you’ve written something that connects with listeners and performed it with power. The way she slams down on “don’t understand… why you… insist…” is a moment of perplexed, angry humanity in the middle of a song that tries to understand something tragic — the corrosion of drugs and gangs on young people’s lives — and while the soloing is a little hammy, the song escapes being embarrassingly corny. Because in fact the whole song kicks ass.

Pedro Joao Santos on “Love Will Never Do (Without You)” [8.71]

One of the greatest pleasures in getting into Janet is how deliriously bold all of her work is. A story, if you will: how Jimmy & Terry stepped in to support her emancipation and helped her invent new jack swing all within Control, before taking the formula apart in Rhythm Nation 1814, aiming for pop that was both a manifesto against bigotry and, between a balm and a corrective, a rush of love. It was designed for high impact, meaning it would’ve always been a pop juggernaut — the material was there, even if the marketing was oblique, which it was. Instead of a glamour shot in Technicolor and a flirtatious title, the 12 million copies sold feature a stark black and white portrait backed by a call-to-arms; the pop froth is smattered around the backbone of topical anthems.

From single to single, A&M skittered between the two sides and amassed consecutive top 10 singles, but it was the last calling card that proved career-defining. At first, “Love Will Never Do (Without You)”’s hard-edged beats scan identical to “Rhythm Nation”’s sonic matrix: belligerent and completed by Janet’s frontal vox, only in this instance driven through a more feminine marketing (the music video is a blueprint). That’s the first trick: she unexpectedly launches into the first verse in a tentative, lightly hostile lower register (“like a guy would,” said Jimmy Jam, as it was to be a duet) and keeps it until the chorus wraps up. It’s pop as friction. By the second verse, Janet goes up an octave and matches the now-bubbling passion at the forefront. The tiny synth countdown drives it into a perpetual unfolding, each time emerging to add more (vocal) layers to the cacophony and threaten to wrap it up, before coming back in force.

Janet’s head voice soars up to the grand finale, a pop cataclysm of an ending, one of the best in recorded history — which applies to the entirety of “Love Will Never Do,” a simultaneous pitch for chaotic head-over-heels energy and blockbuster status. It’s a bizarre ride and a joyous knockout: the honeymoon phase juiced into one relentless beast of a banger, one that changed pop for good.

Jackie Powell on “State of the World” [6.67]

“State of the World” deserved a music video. At its heart, this is a dance cut with a little bit less of the hard rock that roars in “Rhythm Nation.” In content and in sound, this track is a sequel and that’s not a criticism. It’s an expansion which encourages a foot tap by the listener and includes an absolutely integral bassline that drives this track through and through. While the song clocks in at under five minutes and could have been a bit shorter, its chorus, which crescendos in clarity and volume, makes up for it. In addition to Jackson’s delivery on the verses, which is rather understated, the sound effects which illustrate “State of the World”  aren’t too kitschy. The cries and crashes aren’t as apparent as in brother Michael’s “Earth Song” for instance, and that’s appropriate. The politics had to run as smooth as the bass on this track, and they did. They didn’t serve as a distraction, but rather as an asset. Janet was the master of New Jack Swing, and while folks look to her brother’s album Dangerous as the most successful of this genre, Janet experimented with it first.  The percussive repetition, serves a purpose for Jackson on the record. It maintains the same intensity throughout as it reflects exactly what she has to say. Lyrically, I wish that Jackson explained how her “Nation” would “weather the storm.” To this day, homelessness and poverty are issues that affect people continuously. Jackson states the cornerstone rather than the specifics, and maybe that’s okay. It’s something that in 2019 we need more than ever. While unity appears so far out of our reach, Janet attested as early as 1991 that we can’t stop and shan’t stop.

Thomas Inskeep on “The Best Things in Life Are Free” (with Luther Vandross, BBD and Ralph Tresvant) [7.60]

To soundtrack his 1992 film Mo’ Money, Damon Wayans (who wrote and starred in the critically-derided box office hit) called upon superproducers Jam & Lewis, and they did work, producing or co-producing 13 of the album’s 14 tracks and writing or co-writing 12 of them. The soundtrack’s lead single was very pointedly a “look at all the cool stars we got together” move, featuring superstars Vandross and Jackson duetting, along with a brief rap bridge from Bell Biv DeVoe (credited here as BBD) and their New Edition compadre Ralph Tresvant. Released as a single in May 1992, it’s a perfect summertime smash, simultaneously airy-light and slammin’, with Vandross and Jackson weaving in and out of each other’s vocals effortlessly. BBD and Tresvant pop in with a nothingburger of a rap (Tresvant gets a label credit for literally uttering one line, the song’s title) that at least serves to provide a modicum of grit to the proceedings, but no matter: Jackson especially sounds breezier than maybe ever, while Vandross seems to float above the record. The two are magical on a track perfectly suited for them (credit Jam & Lewis, of course), and the result is a minor classic.

Jonathan Bogart on “That’s the Way Love Goes” [7.86]

A little over a year ago I rather overshared in this space when discussing Madonna’s “Erotica,” released a year before this single. A year makes a lot of difference: by the time I was listening to Shadoe Stevens count this down on American Top 40, the summer it became the longest-running #1 hit any Jackson family member ever had, radio pop was no longer a dirty, soul-damning secret, just a daily companion, a window into a more colorful, adult, and interesting world than the ones I knew from books. I would probably have had a healthier relationship to romance and sexuality, in fact, if this had been my introduction to overtly sexual pop rather than “Erotica” — both songs share the technique of a sultry spoken-word refrain, but Janet’s is actually grown-up, with the confidence of a woman who knows what she wants and how to achieve it, with none of Madonna’s juvenile need to épater les bourgeois. As it happened I didn’t particularly connect to “That’s the Way Love Goes,” having reached the stage in my adolescence when getting a charge out of raspy-voiced men singing about political instability felt like the more gender-appropriate inevitability. It wouldn’t be until years later when I returned to re-examine the radio pop of my youth with maturer ears that the amazing miracle of this song fully dawned on me: those pillowy guitar samples plucked from songs where raspy-voiced men sang about political instability, but pressed into service of a loping, candlelit coo: equal parts seduction and vulnerability, Janet singing with the authority of someone who had already conquered the world about the grown-woman concerns that really matter: love, and sex, and the impossible beauty that results when they intertwine.

David Moore on “If” [8.33]

Janet Jackson sang explicitly about “nasty boys,” but I was, to use a term my son’s preschool teacher used to describe him, a timid boy, and I soaked up the privileges of maleness with a corresponding fear of performative masculinity. My love of women through childhood was paired with a deep-seated self-loathing that snuffed out friendships, made me uncomfortable in my body, and sparked intense, violent fantasies directed toward unnamed aggressors in my mind, all those “bad guys.” I wouldn’t be able to reflect on any of this until adulthood. But there was a point in preadolescence when the contours of the trap started to become discernible, and Janet Jackson’s “If” was both a cherished song — one I would listen to rapt in front of MTV or on the radio, legs haphazardly splayed behind me — and was also the uncanny soundtrack to my discomfort: a muscular, menacing, alien object that completely unnerved me, made me a supplicant to its rhythm, got into my head and into my guts, made me move, if only for a minute, in a world that glanced contemptuously toward — but stood defiantly outside of — that toxic timidity. I was the woman telling the man what I wanted, and I was also the man obeying; I was the dancer and I was the floor, too. On “If,” Janet Jackson and Jam & Lewis tamed the New Jack Squall that her brother unleashed on Dangerous with Teddy Riley, insisted upon its lockstep subservience to her mission and her groove, and pointed to an R&B futurism that was barely a twinkle in pop music’s eye in 1993. The result is simultaneously mechanistic and wild, rolling waves of noise that you quickly learn to surf or risk drowning in them. That same year, I also found inspiration in angry men, many of them likely nasty ones, the same men I would have assiduously avoided in person and fought off in my dreams. But Janet Jackson kept me honest, reminded me that my anger was a tell for my underlying cowardice and shame. There is never a hint in “If” that her hypothetical proposition — too strident for any coyness or the suggestion of flirting — could ever be satisfactorily answered. Not by you anyway. No boy, nasty or timid, could meet Janet Jackson’s challenge; she’s mocking the guy who would even try. By the time you hit that cacophony of a middle 8 break, defibrillation on an already racing heartbeat, you’re defeated, more thoroughly than any bad guy you might have dreamt up. You’re not ready for this world — you’re not, so you can’t, and you won’t. But what if…?

Jonathan Bradley on “Again” [5.67]

It sounds like a fairy tale: billowing keys, Janet’s tinkling voice, and no drums to earth the fantasy. “Again” was from John Singleton’s Poetic Justice, not a Disney picture, but it shimmers with its own magic anyway. The melody is gorgeous: listen to Janet measuring out the descending syllables in “suddenly the memories came back to me” like they’re sinking in as she sings the words. (She repeats the motif on “making love to you/oh it felt so good and so right” — this is a romance where the sex is as fondly remembered as the emotions.) Janet Jackson is such a versatile performer, and for all the bold strokes and blunt rhythmic force of her best known moments, “Again” is a treasure all of its own for being none of these: it is tiny and tender and sparkles with a real joy that is all the more wondrous for sounding like it could not exist outside of a storybook.

Scott Mildenhall on “Whoops Now” [4.83]

Even outside America, there’s a widespread tendency for people, in search of a lifetime’s grand narrative, to define everything that happened before The Day The World Changed – a coincidental proxy for their childhood, youth or adolescence – as a simpler time. It’s a convenient illusion for anyone in the world lucky enough to be able to believe it, whose formative years were insulated from war or suffering and can be instead defined by the most carefree scraps of pop culture. In that respect “Whoops Now” holds great temptation, it being the breeziest brush-off of burdens, with an all-over Teflon disposition. It’s therefore an almost fantastical ideal of ’90s radio (and still one of Janet’s most played in the UK); a warm and fuzzy-round-the-edges memory of which on closer inspection, the details are inscrutable. Janet, aloft in a proletarian reverie, relates a confusing tale of overnight shift work, a hindrance of a boss and the consequent curtailing of her plans for some fun in the sun this weekend with her friends (who, judging by her extended roll call, seem to mostly be record execs, producers and performers, as well as dogs). Narratively, it’s difficult to tease apart, but all you need to know is that hurrah – she somehow ends up on holiday anyway. A story that sounds more like something from an expletive-laden segment of Airline thus becomes the most casual celebration of the apparent inevitability of positive resolutions when you’re a globe-straddling megastar, or perhaps just a kid in the back of your parents’ car with the radio on. With that certainty of happiness and universal balance, and the belief that it ever was or could be, it’s fantasy upon fantasy upon fantasy. But no bother: Anguilla here we come.

Nortey Dowuona on “Throb” [6.86]

I started listening to Janet Jackson as a happy accident. Her songs were on Atlantic Radio, but nowhere else. I barely heard her music growing up and only knew of her massive career, and not the music that made it so huge.

So when I first pressed play on “Throb,” I was kinda scandalized.

Because it was so directly, overtly sexual, and confident about it. Janet was ready to get down and dirty, without all the mind games, patronization and bullpuddy packed all over it. The lyrics are pretty straightforward, and there are only ten lines of lyrics. Its pretty clear what Janet wants, and she’s gonna get it.

Plus, the bass was slamming, it slunk around my neck and just rested there while the air horn synths washed over my eyes, blinding me. The drums then stepped over me and plucked me up, with cooing and cascading moans and grunts swirled around my body, shredding me to pieces —

Then the song ended. And it was over.

I honestly, can’t really say why this is my favorite Janet song, but I can say that you should probably play it while having sex, and while thinking about having sex, and play this late night in the night if deciding to have sex. I know this’ll be the first thing I’ll play if I have sex with anyone.

Thomas Inskeep on “Throb”

In the summer of 1993, I’d just finished my second freshman year of college, in my hometown. (I’d gone to college straight out of high school in 1988, and dropped out without much to show for it, 16 months later.) One of my best girlfriends had herself just graduated from college and was back at her parents’ house, job-hunting. We were both past 21 and looking for a place to go dancing, and we found it in the nearest big city, Fort Wayne, Indiana, about 45 minutes away. It was a short-lived gay bar — so short-lived I don’t even recall its name, sadly — with a dance floor roughly the size of a postage stamp. I don’t remember meeting anyone there, ever. (I didn’t drive at the time, so Julie always had to, so it’s not like I could’ve gone home with someone anyway.) I don’t remember anything about the bar — except its dancefloor, and the fact that they had a decent DJ on the weekends, who mostly played house music, which I loved. And there were three songs that got played, in my memory at least, every single week. (And Julie and I really did go just about every weekend that summer.)

The first was Bizarre Inc.’s “I’m Gonna Get You,” an ebullient diva-house track which topped Billboard’s Dance Club/Play chart in January but was just peaking at pop radio in June. The second was, really, the gay club record of the year, RuPaul’s “Supermodel.” It peaked at #2 on the Dance Club/Play chart in March, but never left gay clubs at all through 1993. When that got played at the club, I would, week-in, week-out, “work the runway,” lip-syncing my ass off. (It’s just that kind of song.) And the third was an album track from a newly-released album (that would, in fact, eventually be promoted to dance clubs at peak at #2 on the Club/Play chart), Janet Jackson’s “Throb.” This song went where Jackson never had before, both musically (it’s a straight-up house jam) and lyrically (it’s a straight-up sex jam). Its lyrics are minimal but to the point: “I can feel your body/Pressed against my body/When you start to poundin’/Love to feel you throbbin’.” No subtleties there! Accordingly, Julie and I would spend the song grinding up against each other on a tiny riser at the back of the dance floor, because why not? And because it’s fun.

26 years later, ‘Throb” still kills. And throbs.

Maxwell Cavaseno on “Runaway” [6.50]

My childhood managed to dodge the oceanic nature of pop thanks to being struck between two extremes. My father usually kept the car full of rap, via cassettes of assorted rising stars of the moment (Big Pun, Nas, Various Wu-Tang Soloists) or whatever was playing via Hot 97. Meanwhile my mother typically wallowed in a realm of AOR pop a la Amy Grant or the likes who you could never remember anything about. If there was anything majorly important in the history of pop music from 89-98, lemme tell you, that shit didn’t happen anywhere near me. However, one of the few memories that did manage to linger on was “Runaway.” It was a record that managed to ethereally sneak up to me like some kind of weird creep that I just couldn’t understand with its weird foreign instrumentation simulating orientalist visions and Janet’s background vocals harmonizing like a bunch of Buddhist Cats sneering a la Randy Savage’s “nyeeeah.” Whenever I trailed along in supermarkets or tried to keep busy in waiting rooms, I could comprehend what happened on other songs I liked in the outer world like “Take a Bow” or “Kiss From A Rose.” But this? How did you rationalize all of these gliding vocals crooning and this swarm of glittery noises when you have barely any understanding of the world around you, let alone music? No matter how much further away and away I’d get from whenever it was meant to be a single, it could still disruptively appear in the wild and send the whole day into a state of disarray. It’s so alarming to know now as a grown adult that I can personally summon this ifrit of a single, rather than think of it as some sort of rare sighting of trickster energy (all the more bolstered by Janet’s ad libbed teasing of supposed imperfection and other-human excess) that isn’t meant to be heard more than once in a blue moon. To be honest, I may just forget altogether after the fact, the same way I never remembered the name of the song even when considering it for review. Just that “nyeeeah” hung around in my memory.

Danilo Bortoli on “Got ’til It’s Gone” [6.17]

In Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi”, a cut from her 1970 album Ladies of the Canyon, she sang of impeding progress as a form of destruction (“They paved paradise/And put up a parking lot”). Often seen as as environmental anthem, actually, she was looking back at the sixties, and then seeing, right ahead, a decade that showcased no promising future, only aching skepticism. This resulted in one the purest, simplest lines she has ever written: “Don’t it always seem to go/That you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone”. Almost thirty years later, Janet Jackson conjured those same thoughts, conveying, instead, a different meaning. The Velvet Rope was her very own game of smoke and mirrors, and intimate and often misleading look at her private life. Lying at the center of that album, there is a delicate tribute. “Got ‘til It’s Gone” features a well-placed sample from that line culled from “Big Yellow Taxi.” The context is entirely different however. Here, the same words are uttered between confessions of love. It helps, then, that “Got ‘til It’s Gone” is, in reality, a talk. It’s the way Janet asks “What’s the next song?”. It’s the way Q-Tip responds “Like Joni says.” It’s also the way he asserts finally: “Joni Mitchell never lies.” The brilliance of a sample travelling three decades is that it is deliciously meta. The concept of truth, in Janet Jackson’s universe, is interchangeable. That way, she, too, can never lie.

Josh Love on “Together Again” [6.86]

Together Again was originally conceived as a ballad, and no wonder – it’s a deeply sentimental (borderline treacly, if I’m being uncharitable) song about death and angels and reuniting in the afterlife in heaven. Deciding to record it as a surging house jam instead was an absolute masterstroke, and the result is one of the most purely joyous, transcendent moments of Janet’s career. The idea of carrying a lost loved one in your heart and feeling their spirit in the goodness you encounter in the world, and even the thought of one day joining together with them again in the great beyond – “Together Again” makes you feel that joy rather than merely verbalizing it. So many of us say that when we die we want those we leave behind to celebrate our lives rather than mourn our passing, but Janet is one of the few artists to really bring that radical acceptance of impermanence to life.

Thomas Inskeep on “I Get Lonely” (TNT Remix) [7.43]

Allow me to be cynical for a moment: Janet Jackson, in 1998, is still a superstar. But in the past five years, she’s only had one R&B #1, ‘94’s sex-jam “Any Time, Any Place” (assisted greatly by its R. Kelly remix). So if you’re thinking “What do we do to get Janet back to the summit,” what do you do? Well, it’s 1998. How about calling in Teddy Riley? Better yet, how about he gets a helping hand from Timbaland? And the best: how about Teddy brings his merry men of BLACKstreet with him for a vocal assist? Ergo, “I Get Lonely (TNT Remix),” now label-credited to “Janet [she was just going by “Janet” at the time] featuring BLACKstreet.”

And you know what? It’s genius. The idea, brilliant. The execution, top-notch. Riley on the remix, with instrumental help from Timbo, with guest vocals from BLACKstreet: it’s more exciting than the original (which was already quite good), has a little more junk in its trunk (those should-be-patented instrumental tics that Timbaland is such a wizard with, ohmygod, much like Janet’s big brother’s vocal tics), and the duet vocals are superb (especially as it was so rare to hear Janet singing with others at the time, and every member of BLACKstreet save Riley was a great-to-marvelous singer). Presto! Two weeks atop the R&B chart in May 1998, along with a #3 Hot 100 peak. Mission accomplished — and fortunately, it works even better artistically than it did commercially. Everybody wins!

Pedro Joao Santos on “Go Deep�� [7.14]

That The Velvet Rope’s party song is so heavy on gravitas and spine-tingling urgency speaks volumes. In an album so hellbent on carnal and psychological openness, the party of “Go Deep” goes deeper, and makes sense. It’s not just the top-20 banger it factually was, and it’s not just hedonism for the sake of it. That is, if you don’t divorce it from the wounds of longing, manipulation, abuse and distress being sliced fresh. Tension lies within this absolute romp, placed midway through the red-hot catharsis of Rope. It might be that the party acts as a salve for the trauma. Though it isn’t put into words, you can hear it subliminally: Janet’s hesitant vocal; the evocative, near-melancholy synth fluctuating about. You can even imagine the words as portals: making friends come together as support; the sexual come-ons not just because, but maybe as physical relief for the pain.

A bare-bones lyric sheet would give you nothing — but music as context goes a long way. And the music itself from “Go Deep” gets me in raptures after all these years, from that ridiculous boing (perhaps best known from “I Can’t Dance” by Genesis) to the bass driving it, all chunky and rubbery, and the dramatic string arpeggios in the middle-8. If there’s got to be a template for urgent, carnivorous Friday night anthems, let this be the one — and keep it in context.

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa on “You” [7.00]

The Velvet Rope carries a strong and fascinating legacy; It is rightly praised as a predecessor to both mainstream R&B’s exploration of the intimate (the body) and the spiritual (the soul) in the continuing decades, and to the experimental scope and atmospherics later adopted by today’s so-called “Alt-R&B,” and this extraordinary mixture of elements is never more efficient than in the album’s third track “You.” The song is, first and foremost, a triumph of production genius. Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis’s use of space, and the dynamic at play between the then-cutting-edge electronica ingredients and neo-soul’s earnestness and sensual themes, should itself be a case study for aspiring producers, but it’s the way Janet’s vocals are performed and filtered through the track that take the song to unsuspected levels of greatness. There is something in the breathy, low-pitched verses that exudes unadulterated eroticism, and when the post-chorus harmonies kick in where things really become ecstatic. In several interviews, Janet herself defined this album as “baby-making music”, and I can safely bet that “You” is the song she was thinking about. And its echoes still reverberate today, not only in the sound of R&B to come, but in the fact that thousands of people were conceived to this very beat.

Edward Okulicz on “Free Xone” [6.83]

I remember it only vaguely; it was 1995, and for drama class we had to do a performance based on a social theme using a combination of media and methods. I was in a group with a big Janet fan, who decided to use her music as the basis of a combination spoken-word, mime and dance performance on racism. I only understanding the themes in the abstract because I was young, sheltered, and white. I knew racism was a thing I didn’t like, but it wasn’t an existential threat to me. Two years later, on “Free Xone,” Janet would speak directly to me and tell me of a bleak present with the promise of a better future.  Janet told it like it was, and still is for many: if you are gay, despite the fact that love is love, a lot of people are going to hate you or at least be uncomfortable around you. Homophobia isn’t just violence or hostility, it can be any kind of social rejection, and it can happen anywhere, as it does in the anecdote in the first part of the song, where a pleasant conversation with a person sitting next to you on an airplane sours because of it.

Janet Jackson is a dancer, but she didn’t dance around anything if she didn’t have to. She leaned into her status as a gay icon out of love, not necessity. But she made her social justice songs out of both love and necessity. Hating people is so not mellow. Love and sex are never wrong. Janet Jackson has never resiled from that belief, and never shied away from putting it in song. I’d grown up listening to Janet Jackson, but I’d never thought of her as an ally for myself, and it was intensely comforting to hear that she was on my side when nobody else seemed to be (Meshell Ndegeocello’s “Leviticus Faggot” the previous year had more or less convinced me I’d die in the closet).

In 2019, her funk here sounds a little dinky, the transitions between the soft groove and the raucous party bounce are kind of awkward, and the weird song structure sounds like it was cut and pasted together, but it’s a collage of compelling pieces. It got quite a lot of play on the alternative youth station here, the one whose listeners were at the time generally terrified of a) pop superstars, b) Black artists, and c) dancing. Someone thought the kids needed to hear this, and they were right. “Free Xone” helped my nascent consciousness come to grips with earlier songs that I’d just considered a good time before. Its story is less common in the Western world, now, but it’s still true as history for some, and as present for others.

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa on “Tonight’s the Night” [4.50]

I’m a sucker for good covers; we usually tend to give songwriting, the cult of the inspired author, and the concept of originality a certain mystique that grossly overshadows the importance of skilful creative interpretation and re-invention. But many of our most important singers are essentially covers artists — Joe Cocker, Tom Jones, Bettye Lavette, a huge number of blues and jazz singers, most of the 50s-60s Greenwich Village folk scene — because of course we need these musicians to give these tunes another dimension, whether stylistic, generational, or purely emotional. Also, a song’s perspective can change dramatically because of who is singing.  “Tonight’s The Night” works with Rod’s gravelly, rugged voice, and, although it can sound a bit creepy by today’s standards, the arrangements carry it beautifully, but in Janet’s sexually adventurous, musically exuberant The Velvet Rope, it acquires a new dimension, a far more interesting one, might I add. From Janet’s view, and the brilliant decision of not changing genders in the lyrics, her version alludes to bisexuality in a way that makes complete sense within’ the album’s core subject matters, and works wonders within’ its production philosophy. Stewart later presented his live renditions of the song by saying “This is an original by Janet Jackson”. No one will refute that. It’s her song now.

Alex Clifton on “All For You” [6.86]

“All For You” is the first Friday night you go out with your new college friends and that utter sense of freedom where you realize the night is yours without a curfew. It’s sparkling fairy lights in the background, a disco ball overhead, at a roller rink or at a club with a fancy light-up dancefloor, maybe a stolen swig of rum on your tongue. It’s the moment you see someone new and your heart falls into your stomach with no prior warning, and you suddenly know you’ll do anything to talk to them. You simply have to; it’s an animal urge, chemicals and hormones whizzing through you and making it hard to walk because you’re giddy. Maybe you’re braver than I am and you go talk to the person who’s snagged your attention, but maybe you hang back with your friends and pretend you’re not watching out for your crush while also dancing stupidly with your new friends. There’s a pure exhilaration in this song that many have tried to emulate but few match the ease with which Janet performs. She’s flirty and sexy like no other, but “All For You” also makes you, the listener, feel flirty and sexy too — something about it worms its way into you and becomes the shot of confidence you need. Lots of people can write songs about dancing at the club, but Janet turns it into a night you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

Jibril Yassin on “Someone to Call My Lover” [7.00]

Does falling in love always feel the same every time? It’s one thing to keep pushing on in life but what’s striking about “Someone to Call My Lover” is how infectious Janet’s optimism is. Built on an Erik Satie riff by way of the band America, Janet recast herself as a woman excited to love again. Let it be on the record – long-term relationships are fucking terrifying. Moving on from the dissolution of a marriage is disorienting and the songs that use Janet’s divorce as inspiration on All For You share a tentative yet firm belief in renewal.

She uses “maybe” on “Someone to Call My Lover” the way one throws out a “lol” after shooting their shot – you don’t even have time to catch it amid her grocery store list of wishes for her future love. “Someone to Call My Lover” hits all the right places thanks to the careful and immaculate production but it’s Janet’s sincerity that marks it as her best twee performance.

Will Adams on “Son Of A Gun” [5.20]

Given All For You’s post-divorce setting, it was only appropriate that after the aural sunbeam of the title track and giddy optimism of “Someone to Call My Lover,” Janet would do a 180 and proceed to rip him a new one. The opening taunts — “Ha-ha, hoo-hoo, thought you’d get the money too” — against the throbbing kick bass set the scene, but the true genius of “Son of a Gun” comes from its sampling and modernization of ultimate kiss-off song “You’re So Vain.” The classic bass riff, once soft in Carly Simon’s original, is now razor-sharp. The cavernous drum beats sound like you’re trapped in an underground dungeon. All the while, Janet mutters burn after burn right into your ear (“I’d rather keep the trash and throw you out”) before Simon launches into the “I betcha think this song is about you” refrain, sounding like a Greek chorus confirming Jackson’s digs. The album version carries on until the six-minute mark, with Carly Simon waxing poetic about clouds in her coffee and apricot scarves in an extended outro. The video version wisely excises this in favor of guest verses from Missy Elliott, whose reliably grinning performance shoves the knife in deeper. In both versions, however, Janet’s menace is preserved. Forming a trinity with All For You’s preceding two singles, “Son of a Gun” showed just how versatile Jackson is, and how adept she is at encapsulating the messy, complex emotions of an ended relationship.

Will Adams on “All Nite (Don’t Stop)” [6.17]

I had been looking away from the television when it happened. By the time I’d heard the gasps from my parents and I glanced up at the screen, the cameras had cut to an aerial shot of the Reliant Stadium in Houston, where the 2004 Super Bowl was taking place. My 11 year old brain couldn’t process exactly what happened from my parents’ concerned murmurs, and having completely missed the incident (there was no YouTube back then, see), it would take years for me to understand the impact that the “wardrobe malfunction” had on culture and Jackson’s career. The greater impact was to be expected — the six-figure FCC fine on CBS (later dismissed by the Supreme Court) and conservative handwringing about the moral decline of the country — but Jackson in particular suffered unduly. There was the blacklist, ordered by Les Moonves, which kept her off CBS, MTV and Infinity Broadcasting. Jackson’s appearance at that year’s Grammy Awards was canceled. Late-night talk show hosts turned it into monologue fodder, usually grossly and usually at her expense. The controversy hampered her album cycles well into the Discipline era. Meanwhile, Justin Timberlake remained entirely unaffected. His career would skyrocket two years later with the release of FutureSex/LoveSounds; he became a Saturday Night Live darling; he performed solo at the Super Bowl’s halftime show in 2018. This alone puts Damita Jo and “All Nite (Don’t Stop)” in a more sympathetic light, but even then, pop radio missed out on a truly brilliant song here. Janet acts as the Dance Commander, taking the opening guitar lick from Herbie Hancock’s “Hang Up Your Hang Ups” and turning it into a lasso with which she throws you onto the dancefloor. The percussion percolates, each sound placed perfectly to create an undeniable groove. Because of the blacklist, it didn’t even break the Hot 100, and the video was also subject to its own asinine controversy — the few video channels that managed to avoid the blacklist edited out the sexual content, including a scene were two female dancers kiss. Even fifteen years later, it feels like we’re still reckoning with how Jackson was treated in the aftermath. But there’s an inspiring resilience in “All Nite (Don’t Stop)” reflected in the smile she bears on the Damita Jo cover; its unabashed sexuality in the face of all the backlash makes it an even better listen today.

Kat Stevens on “Strawberry Bounce” [7.17]

I like Janet best when she takes risks, whether that be controversial subject matter, a new image or a change of musical direction. Old faithfuls Jam & Lewis are still a solid presence on Damita Jo, but on “Strawberry Bounce” we see Janet plumping for a left field choice in the then-unknown Kanye West. The result is an intriguing Ryvita, all brittle handclaps and feathery faux-ingenue whispering, on the verge of crumbling into nothing. It’s so light that there’s no bassline, just a queasy glockenspiel tinkle and Janet’s butter-wouldn’t-melt sing-song. I keep wondering to myself: why have Janet and Kanye chosen to present a song about working a shift at a strip club in the style of an Aptimil Follow-On Milk advert? Is it a subtle reminder that sexy times may eventually lead to night feeds and dirty nappies? It doesn’t help that instead of a proper beat, we have Jay-Z muttering ‘BOUNCE!’ as if he’s grumpily shooing a dog off his lawn. It’s confusing and uncomfortable, yet compelling and convincing, and I’m still listening. The risk has paid off.

Will Adams on “Rock With U” [5.83]

“Just Dance” is often thought of as ground zero for the rise of dancepop and eventually EDM in the US, but it had been brewing for over a year before the Lady Gaga song topped the Hot 100 in early 2009. From 2007 onward, the increased interest in incorporating elements of disco via four-on-the-floor beats and faster tempos created some indelible hybrids, particularly in the R&B world: “Don’t Stop the Music”; “Forever”; “Closer”; “Spotlight”; and “Rock With U.” While most of those songs stuck to traditional verse-chorus pop structure, “Rock With U” proves that sometimes simplicity is best: A house arrangement of arpeggios and basic rhythms. A single verse, repeated three times and interspersed with wordless vocalizing with nearly no variation, save for Janet’s whispers. All this, combined with the glorious one-shot video, creates a hypnotic effect, like the song will go on forever. On a recent Song Exploder episode about “Honey,” Robyn said of dance music: “It’s about putting you in a place where you’re in your body dancing without thinking about when it’s gonna end. It’s more about the moment and how it makes you feel.” This is the heart of “Rock With U”: an invitation to get lost in the music, forget about the outside world, and just rock.

Maxwell Cavaseno on “So Much Betta” [5.67]

The beginning of the 2010s was way too challenging in retrospect and I regret every minute of it. “So Much Betta” was a song I first heard in a mix by Robin Carolan, now best known for founding and guiding Tri-Angle Records, but for a brief period operated a side-blog called “SO BONES” where he’d pontificate about random gems of pop, R&B and rap but in a way that made records feel gross and sinister. Suddenly Cassie’s “My House” was a ghost story, Vanessa Hudgens’s “Don’t Talk” would be compared to Takashi Miike’s Audition, and so on. In retrospect I think of the Capital P Pop songs of the decade that I’ve responded to enthusiastically like “TT,” “Cheyenne,” “Strangers,” “Somebody Else,” “Backseat,” “Lac Troi” or the dozens of others there is at least usually a despair or gloom I can at minimum project onto the record even where it might not be obvious. And that comes from hearing Janet Jackson whisper over a record that sounded like some toxic goo from out of the dregs of the Rinse.FM swamps I’d often thought to be “the coolest” sounds, before cutting through over glistening synths that felt like a phantom of not Janet per se but her brother’s past. It was a song that felt v. strange in 2010 well after MJ had died with the listless echo of the Pop Monarch feeling less like a dream-like invocation and more like a degraded copy of a copy in its grotesquery. Enough can be said about how cool and timeless and bright and powerful Janet at her best can feel. But it deserves an acknowledgement that she could also make a song that was so evocative in all the most unpleasant of ways.

William John on “Unbreakable” [6.67]

“Unbreakable” as an adjective is applicable to those rare, unending, strong relationships between people, whether they be romantic, platonic, familial, or, as has been intimated in relation to her song of the same name, between performer and audience. But it’s also a word that can be used to describe oneself, and one’s ability to traverse adversity with stoicism. The first song on Jackson’s most recent album doesn’t sound defiant – more “stroll to the supermarket on a warm summer’s evening” than an escapade to Rhythm Nation. But courage manifests in different ways. Jackson’s breezy delivery, which takes on an ecstatic form in the song’s chorus, is indicative of her self-assurance at her status; she’s embracing the languor allowed to her as a legend. She may have been removed of her clothes in front of the whole world a decade prior; she may have spent her whole life in the shadow of her infamous relative – but she hasn’t faltered. She’s still here. As she greets her listeners in her inviting whisper at the song’s conclusion, she notes that it’s “been a while” since her last missive, and that there is “lots to talk about”. But her listeners aren’t impatient; there’s always time for Janet. Her story has always been one of control, of poise, of excellence. Long may it continue.

Pedro Joao Santos on “Dream Maker/Euphoria” [5.17]

When I get to delve deep into a legend, as with Janet, I tend to hit the ground running and have them release a new, great album a few months later. Not having heard 20 Y.O. and Discipline, I was shielded from the Janet-isms from the ’00s and viewed Unbreakable as a proper continuation to her legacy, instead of the grand comeback it actually was — hackneyed artwork, halted tour and all. Janet got the upper hand, finding her reunited with Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis, in a steadfast gaze in a steadfast gaze over airtight, pensive and giddy R&B. An exemplary return to form, incidentally devoid of all the raunch, bathroom breaks and Kioko.

One older Janet-ism survived in a marginal capacity: the penchant for interludes, continued here in only two moments (aside from endearing sneezes and spoken-word outros): one was the bizarre preview for a Target-exclusive full track; the other was “Dream Maker/Euphoria”. A precise inflection point scribed upon the passage from “side 1” to “2” — even if things threaten to get a bit pedestrian and humdrum in the last half. The track itself is a dual mood, yet a continual trek through the glow of a renaissance. A seemingly old groove recalling the Jackson 5 gets dusted from the vaults for the first part. That’s ear candy for ages in itself, a web of vox so intensely feverish and melodically preternatural. It gets looped tantalisingly, then it transcends onto the next level. Full-on rapid eye movement: keyboards and ambience make up the sound of eyelids opening to meet a purple, unreal sky — suspended between worlds, a dream dimension of utopia and the reality where those ideas must coalesce. “I guess the dreamer must be awake,” Janet concludes after envisioning a “perfect place” exempt from “jealousy, abuse or hate,” “war, hunger or hate.”

Janet’s  four peak-era albums alone prove she’s been excelling at world-building where and when the world was far from ready. In “Dream Maker/Euphoria,” it isn’t so much the stark condemnations of Rhythm Nation 1814, but its more hopeful fantasies, articulated through the confident tone of Control, set to the type of innovative musical reverie The Velvet Rope predated, softened through janet.’s sensuous filter. But more than the touchpoints of yesteryear, the essence of “Dream Maker/Euphoria” lives in its manifestation of the future: how tangible and expansive it might just become, if given a chance.

[johnsoedercc]

I wrote this profile of record producer extraordinaire and philanthropist Tommy LiPuma for The Plain Dealer, on the occasion of a Tri-C JazzFest salute to him that coincided with the “Modern American Masters: Highlights From the Gill and Tommy LiPuma Collection” exhibition at the Cleveland Museum of Art.

The Art of Tommy LiPuma

By John Soeder published April 11, 2004, in The Plain Dealer

NEW YORK – Yes, he produced a chart-topping album for Barbra Streisand.

And yes, he also had a hand in Grammy-winning recordings by George Benson, Natalie Cole and Diana Krall.

Running down the mile-long list of his accomplishments as a record producer and music industry executive, however, it’s easy to overlook one of Tommy LiPuma’s most truly remarkable achievements:

He made a Wham! fan out of Miles Davis.

The late, great jazz trumpeter visited LiPuma at home in the 1980s to discuss working together. LiPuma popped a cassette by the George Michael-fronted pop group of “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” fame into the stereo.

Davis “freaked out,” LiPuma says. “He loved it.”

Who knew?

LiPuma recounts the story over lunch at Sistina, his favorite Italian restaurant. It’s not open for lunch, mind you – unless you’re Tommy LiPuma, in which case you and a guest have the dining room all to yourselves on a snowy March afternoon.

Such are the perks when you’re chairman of the world’s largest jazz record company, Verve Music Group. LiPuma, a former Clevelander, has held the title since 1998.

He’ll be back in his hometown this week for the 25th annual Tri-C JazzFest. Benson, Krall, Dr. John, Joe Lovano, Jimmy Scott and others perform Saturday at Playhouse Square’s Allen Theatre in a salute to LiPuma, 67.

“I’m honored,” he says. “On the other hand, it makes you wonder: Are you coming toward the twilight of your career? Frankly, I feel I’m at the top of my game.”

LiPuma co-produced three albums for Davis, starting with 1986’s “Tutu.” It included a cover of “Perfect Way,” originally done by Scritti Politti, another 1980s pop act that LiPuma brought to the attention of Davis.

“He wasn’t what I call a jazz cop,” LiPuma says. “He loved all kinds of music.”

Ditto LiPuma. He wholeheartedly buys into the old Duke Ellington maxim: There are only two kinds of music – the good kind and the other kind.

LiPuma’s latest productions are albums by Al Jarreau and Krall.

Veteran vocalist Jarreau’s “Accentuate the Positive” is due in stores Tuesday, Aug. 3. LiPuma was behind the mixing board for two previous Jarreau releases, “Glow” (1976) and the live double album “Look to the Rainbow” (1977).

“He’s a brilliant producer,” says Jarreau, who performs Friday at the Allen Theatre as part of the JazzFest’s “Silver on Silver” salute to another LiPuma client, hard-bop pianist Horace Silver.

LiPuma has a knack for “knowing artists, knowing what they do, allowing them to do it and then pushing them where he thinks their strengths are — and beyond those strengths,” Jarreau says.

While working on his new album, Jarreau found himself scatting the melody of “Groovin’ High,” a Charlie Parker-Dizzy Gillespie chestnut: “Duh-dut, duh-dut-dut, bah-doo-bee-ooh-bee-ooh-duh-dut’ll-doo-day.…”

LiPuma’s ears pricked up. “Is there a lyric, Al?” he asked.

“Well, I’ve thought about doing a lyric for it,” Jarreau replied.

LiPuma encouraged him to go for it.

Jarreau did. The finished track turned out to be “one of my best efforts,” he says.

Krall’s new album, “The Girl in the Other Room,” comes out Tuesday, April 27. It features six songs co-written by the singer-pianist and her husband, rocker Elvis Costello.

LiPuma co-produced “The Girl in the Other Room” with Krall, whom he refers to as “my baby.” He has overseen seven of her eight albums.

“Tommy is my ears — he can hear things I can’t hear,” Krall said in a 2001 interview with The Plain Dealer. “He loves music, art, beauty and all the meaningful things in life, including really good wine.”

At Sistina, LiPuma orders a bowl of pasta. It arrives perfectly al dente and prepared, per his specifications, with cherry tomatoes. A seafood dish follows in short order.

“This is the branzino,” LiPuma says, digging into the Italian-style sea bass. “Delicious!”

Between sips of espresso in the afterglow of the meal, he’ll gladly tell you about working with ultradiva Streisand on “The Way We Were,” her 1974 No. 1 album: “She knows exactly what she wants.”

Or the truth behind “Weekend in L.A.,” singer-guitarist Benson’s 1977 live album: “It wasn’t really as live as it sounded…. We had to redo the vocals.”

Or the emotional experience of recording the title track of Cole’s 1991 “Unforgettable” album, a virtual duet between the singer and her late father, Nat “King” Cole: “When we did it, it stopped all of us in our tracks.”

Lawyers, accountants running the show

LiPuma lights up when he talks about music. But his mood turns somber when the conversation turns to the music business.

“The sooner corporate America gets out of it, the happier I’m going to be,” he says.

Verve Music Group is the parent company of four record labels: Verve, Impulse!, GRP (which LiPuma ran in the 1990s) and Blue Thumb (where LiPuma worked in the late ’60s and early ’70s with such acts as Dan Hicks and Dave Mason).

In addition to a catalog rich with jazz greats (Ellington, Count Basie, John Coltrane, Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday, among others), the company’s current artist roster includes the likes of Krall, Jarreau, Benson, violinist Regina Carter and keyboardist Herbie Hancock.

Verve Music Group is a subsidiary of the world’s leading music company, Universal Music Group, which had revenues of $6 billion in 2003. Universal (itself a division of multinational media conglomerate Vivendi Universal) does not release specific financial data for its subsidiaries.

“The record business used to be basically a group of entrepreneurs … who made gut decisions and ran their own ships,” LiPuma says. “They didn’t have to worry about making their quarter or if Wall Street was going to give them its blessing. They were music people.

"Today, with a few exceptions, you have lawyers and accountants running the show. It’s very unfortunate.”

LiPuma has delegated the day-to-day responsibilities (read: headaches) of running Verve Music Group to his second-in-command, President and CEO Ron Goldstein.

“I handle the creative aspects,” LiPuma says. “When you make records, all you want is the right performance…. As a producer, everything is about waiting for the moment when the artist drops a magic take. One of the most important parts of my job is knowing when the moment happens.”

Magic has struck in the studio time and again for LiPuma, who has made more than 20 gold, platinum or multiplatinum records. He also has won three Grammy Awards: Record of the Year in 1976 for Benson’s smash “This Masquerade,” Album of the Year in 1991 for Cole’s “Unforgettable” and Best Jazz Vocal Album in 2002 for Krall’s “Live in Paris.”

The way he was: Cleveland roots

Born in Cleveland to Italian immigrants, LiPuma was the youngest of five children. His brothers, Joe and Henry, and sister Therese still live in the area; another sister, Josephine, died in 1984.

LiPuma’s family moved often when he was young, from Cleveland’s Kinsman neighborhood to University Heights to Warrensville Heights to Beachwood.

“The radio was always on in our house,” LiPuma says. “In those days, it was Bing Crosby, the Andrews Sisters, Jo Stafford.

"Some way or another, I ended up where I ended up. But I’m a pop junkie. I love great pop music.

"By the time I was 18, I loved bebop — Charlie Parker, Horace Silver, all those guys. But it didn’t take away from my love for pop music.”

When he was 9, LiPuma developed osteomyelitis, a debilitating bone infection. He spent nearly three years laid up in bed.

“The radio became my friend,” he says. “I discovered the R&B station in those days, WJMO, and I started hearing Charles Brown, Louis Jordan, Nat Cole and Ruth Brown. I was a complete R&B nut by the time I was 12.

"Then I started playing saxophone…. I’ll never forget: The music teacher at Shaker Heights Junior High School gave me an F in music because I didn’t show up for a concert.”

LiPuma dropped out of school when he was 18, although he only made it through 10th grade. His illness had left him two grades behind his friends. “I felt out of place,” he says.

By then, he was earning $25 a night playing sax in local clubs.

His father, a barber, sent LiPuma to barber college and gave him a loan to buy a barbershop in the Keith Building on Euclid Avenue in Cleveland. Among his customers were various radio disc jockeys, including future “American Top 40” host Casey Kasem, who used to work at the old WJW AM/850.

But LiPuma’s heart wasn’t into cutting hair. He leased the shop, packed his sax and hit the road for a year with a jazz combo.

Upon his return to Cleveland in 1960, LiPuma got a job as a record promoter with M.S. Distributors.

The following year, he was hired to do promotion for Liberty Records. He later transferred to the company’s music publishing division. LiPuma primarily was based in Los Angeles, although he briefly lived in New York in 1962 and relocated there permanently in 1984.

The first album he produced was “Comin’ Through,” the 1965 debut by an R&B group from Canton — the O’Jays.

Making hits, taking hits

He scored his first gold record one year later with the Sandpipers. The easy-listening trio’s Top 10 single “Guantanamera” was produced by LiPuma, who also recited the spoken-word bit in the middle of the tune: “I am a truthful man from the land of the palm trees… .”

He went on to work as a producer and A&R (artists and repertoire) executive for several other record companies, including A&M, Warner Bros. and Elektra. Along the way, LiPuma collaborated with a range of artists, from Dr. John to Michael Franks to Joe Sample.

Somebody once asked LiPuma how it felt to be the father of smooth jazz. He was mortified.

“I detest — de-test! — smooth jazz,” he says. “Shall I call it the height of mediocrity? Everything has become so predictable.

"The jazz community can blame itself for what ultimately ended up happening with jazz. Basically, it has gone nowhere.”

Some jazz purists blame LiPuma for his pop-savvy meddling — at least to hear him tell it.

“Critics like Gary Giddins hate my [expletive] guts,” LiPuma says. “They think I’m the Antichrist. [Giddins] referred to me as a hack.”

Giddins, former jazz critic for The Village Voice and the author of biographies of Louis Armstrong, Bing Crosby and Charlie Parker, is widely regarded as a top jazz authority. (Even LiPuma says Giddins is “erudite.”)

Giddins gave his side of the story via e-mail last week.

“I don’t hate Tommy LiPuma’s ‘[expletive] guts,’ ” he wrote. “It is possible that I once referred to him as a hack, but I can’t recall the occasion and a global search of everything on my hard drive, dating back 20 years, turns up only one mention of his name.”

In a review of the 1997 JVC Jazz Festival, Giddins made a passing reference to LiPuma as “the record industry menace who specializes in convincing good musicians to play bad music.”

‘A rare breed’ and ‘a beautiful cat’

Tommy LiPuma — a “menace”? Jarreau scoffs at the notion.

LiPuma is “a rare breed,” Jarreau says. “Maybe a guy like Tommy is too nice for this industry.”

Sax player David Sanborn, on the bill for the JazzFest’s Silver tribute, has cut a couple of albums with LiPuma.

“You can always tell a Tommy LiPuma production,” Sanborn says. “He makes high-class, high-quality records…. He has the ability to make records with broad appeal, too.

"I don’t think there’s anything intrinsically wrong with a lot of people liking your music. If you’re doing something you don’t believe in, that’s another story. But I don’t think Tommy has ever done that. . . . He has a real passion for the music.”

LiPuma is “a beautiful cat,” says another music legend from Cleveland, jazz singer Jimmy Scott. His 1992 comeback album, “All the Way,” was produced by LiPuma.

“He knows his stuff,” Scott says. “If you have an idea and you talk it over with him, he’ll make it happen. He doesn’t limit his thoughts about the music.”

LiPuma doesn’t limit his interests to music, either.

Paintings by American Modernists usually fill his Park Avenue apartment, although for the time being, the walls are dotted with empty hooks. “Modern American Masters: Highlights From the Gill and Tommy LiPuma Collection” is on view through Sunday, July 18, at the Cleveland Museum of Art. The exhibition features works by some of LiPuma’s favorite artists (not of the recording variety), including Alfred Maurer, Marsden Hartley and Arnold Friedman.

Gill is LiPuma’s wife of 35 years. They have two grown daughters.

“I love art…. You’ve got structure, form, textures — the same things you have in music,” says LiPuma, recently elected a trustee of the Smithsonian Institution’s Archives of American Art.

“I’d like to be a private [art] dealer,” he says. “I also still enjoy making records. I don’t want to stop…. At this point, the last thing I’m thinking about is retirement.”

[joeblrblog-blog]

END OF YEAR ESSAY

INTRODUCTION

In this essay I will be giving you my opinion/ what I have learned over the year about three topics that have peaked my creative thinking. These themes are: Identity (main focus), Cultural Capital and artificial intelligence, destructive technology as a set with AI. These themes are all linked in with identity and how our view is altered towards another human being because of our beliefs and how we have been raised to believe what is ‘wrong’ and what is ‘right’. I have learned about a lot of topics throughout the year and it has all pointed towards how people perceive one’s identity, this then leads on to how a lot people can be confined to a particular way of thinking therefore not allowing any groth in society to happen because the majority of us a narrow minded. Not that there’s anything wrong with that because it keeps everyone in check, which is what the world government wants, hense why there is such a thing as law, fines and rules to keep us from swaying from the stages we believe we need to take to have an ‘okay’ life. I want to also talk about the intensity of technology and how much it has developed over the years therefore impacting our view towards identity within social media and what could possibly happen within that. As technology improved so did the identity pressure within the internet, things such as Instagram, Facebook and twitter. As society grew so did the reputation you had to maintain, looking up to people who are famous, rich and even the royal family. The aim for my final piece to impact questions onto the viewer, to do this I’ll need to add as many subliminal images as possible. I want this discussion to impact not only myself but the people who read it so they can therefore understand the deeper meaning behind my creative process.

IDENTITY

SHARP, R. (2016). Art, Technology and Online Identity. [online] Nytimes.com. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2016/02/11/arts/international/art-technology-and-online-identity.html [Accessed 2 May 2019].

Rob Sharp has taken a very interesting approach within Identity on the internet which really caught my eye. He quoted “I’m trying to make that relationship very explicit, and to ask us how we engage with it,” what he was referring to is the interaction we have with people online and how we perceive them just on our initial judgment.  

Identity is something that has been misinterpreted as technology has advanced, people believe that your identity is something that needs to be compared to other people on social media platforms, this will only make more stress for others because it shows how far/ low people are on social hierarchy pyramid therefore creating diversity and lack of trust. Identity is “the fact of being who or what a person or thing is” but that definition is completely altered depending on what direction you apply it to... for example: Identity within social media, what position you are financially, what assets you own, how you present yourself. People have made instant judgment become one of their habits because of the 'tweets’ they have seen online or even heard in real life: “You go the new iPhone?”, “no, I can’t afford it”. As soon as these divides happen then it turns into a form of destructive technology towards their identity, it degrades what people think about your cultural capital then all this brings is negativity within one’s self. ‘It is obvious that identities do not come into being in a vacuum. Nor do they emerge first and then seek out a suitable context for themselves. Thus, societies clearly play an important causal role in creating and shaping identity.’ This is why I want to point your focus towards when the structured civilizations first started, such as the Egyptians, the Persian empire and the Roman empire. All of these civilizations had a form identity to uphold even without social media, so the divide was purely based on who had more cultural capital? As time went on this standard of control keeps order and placement, therefore keeping the divide in society and permanently identity has become a cliché that we believe today is impossible to change. Social media platforms have only made this divide even harder to make pure once again.    

Oxford Dictionaries | English. (2019). identity | Definition of identity in English by Oxford Dictionaries. [online] Available at: https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/identity [Accessed 1 May 2019].

CULTURAL CAPITAL

“Cultural capital is the accumulation of knowledge, behaviours, and skills that people can tap into to demonstrate one's cultural competence, and thus one's social status or standing in society.” Cultural capital is something that has created a cleaved process in the way we think. The reason why we judge and can form jealously is because everyone has something someone else wants, I believe Cultural Capital makes this very clear for us, especially when you apply it to your position in society. When this happens and you realise what type of cultural capital people lack, you then try your best to improve the position that you are currently in to show you can keep up with the status society expects you to be in, meaning you will never have a sense of achievement until you reach them goals in the social ladder.  

“Rage, Flower Thrower” or “Flower Bomber” by Banksy. (2015). [image] Available at: http://www.blogs.buprojects.uk/2015-2016/rachelrichardson/2015/12/30/rage-flower-thrower-or-flower-bomber-by-banksy/ [Accessed 2 May 2019].

Banksy’s “Flower Bomber” is a great example of the war within Cultural Capital ladder. In 2005 there was a gay parade in Jerusalem, which was attacked by protesters who stabbed three people and injured many more, this image is a response to those events. People think that Banksy made this piece of work to stop violence because he’s never been a fan or war, but others believe he made this to raise the awareness of the energy surrounding it, the internet wasn’t focusing on the stigma within people's views: “gay people are unacceptable”, “religion refuses to accept sinners” they was focusing on the damage it was causing to the topic. If there wasn’t judgment within Cultural capital then there wouldn’t be such a thing as “I’m better than you”.

What I want to bring your focus onto now is the stigma around how people judge one another just because of their objectified state online. The objectified state is one of the three categories that filter down cultural capital, it’s the objects (assets) you own that symbolise where you are in society financially compared to other people. It’s how they can judge you solely off of that notion. I wanted to include this because the objectified state is a form of your identity based off of the cultural capital concept and will play a part in the 3 final pieces that I have made.  

Lisa Cole, N. (2019). All About Cultural Capital. [online] ThoughtCo. Available at: https://www.thoughtco.com/what-is-cultural-capital-do-i-have-it-3026374 [Accessed 15 Jan. 2019].

ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE

Artificial intelligence is software that allows computer science to create intelligent machines that can work and react the same or better than humans.  

Harrington, L. (2017). 5 Disruptive Technologies Shaping Our Future. [online] IoT For All. Available at: https://www.iotforall.com/5-disruptive-technologies-shaping-our-future/amp/ [Accessed 2 May 2019].

Vincent, J. (2019). ThisPersonDoesNotExist.com uses AI to generate endless fake faces. [online] The Verge. Available at: https://www.theverge.com/tldr/2019/2/15/18226005/ai-generated-fake-people-portraits-thispersondoesnotexist-stylegan [Accessed 2 May 2019].

This image is a perfect example of how AI is one of the main sources of destructive technology within the internet, all of these faces are fake people’s identity. Philip Wang made this AI system and he strongly believes that Artificial intelligence will be making up the majority of images on the internet in the near future. Not only they will be generating single images but whole life's that consist of the same faces and all this does is allow fake identity to infect the internet therefore increasing the negativity around cultural capital within the society. It’s a possibility that eventually the internet will be a platform that people can go on to become a catfish, create their alter egos and maybe even disappear.  

The more we develop through technology the more we are becoming reliant on it and it is making creatives very narrow-minded because they are getting use to the “I'll google it” mindset. They aren't taking an avant-garde approach therefore limiting their abilities. The same goes for everyone on the internet, instead of upgrading their cultural capital value they are updating their timeline and wasting time becoming entranced within a screen.  

CONCLUSION

In conclusion, everything that I have covered today I wanted to link towards how identity is altered massively by the influence of the internet. We have been raised to believe what is right and what is wrong, this then leads us to a narrow-minded community that won’t have the courage to go outside the boundaries and explore what is ‘impossible’. This means we cannot evolve past what we know and we are going backwards in evolution, if we can’t do the thinking ourselves therefore making alternative solutions to do it for us, such as AI. Taking all of this into consideration you need to think how it is going to affect how we perceive identity and what cultural capital is going to turn into. Identity will then become a very serious ordeal because if we continue our course, we are going to make fake identity online a norm therefore getting rid of all fear of judgment within your cultural capital. Then what price does true identity become? Priceless or worthless?  

This was my main message in my final artefacts, the distortion of identity through the distortion of the internet.

           By Joseph Reilly  

[johnsoedercma-blog]

For me, it doesn’t get any better than telling stories about people with a passion for the arts. I wrote this profile of record producer extraordinaire and philanthropist Tommy LiPuma for The Plain Dealer, on the occasion of a Tri-C JazzFest salute to him that coincided with the "Modern American Masters: Highlights From the Gill and Tommy LiPuma Collection" exhibition at the Cleveland Museum of Art.

The Art of Tommy LiPuma

By John Soeder published April 11, 2004, in The Plain Dealer

NEW YORK – Yes, he produced a chart-topping album for Barbra Streisand.

And yes, he also had a hand in Grammy-winning recordings by George Benson, Natalie Cole and Diana Krall.

Running down the mile-long list of his accomplishments as a record producer and music industry executive, however, it’s easy to overlook one of Tommy LiPuma’s most truly remarkable achievements:

He made a Wham! fan out of Miles Davis. 

The late, great jazz trumpeter visited LiPuma at home in the 1980s to discuss working together. LiPuma popped a cassette by the George Michael-fronted pop group of "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" fame into the stereo.

Davis "freaked out," LiPuma says. "He loved it."

Who knew?

LiPuma recounts the story over lunch at Sistina, his favorite Italian restaurant. It’s not open for lunch, mind you – unless you’re Tommy LiPuma, in which case you and a guest have the dining room all to yourselves on a snowy March afternoon.

Such are the perks when you’re chairman of the world’s largest jazz record company, Verve Music Group. LiPuma, a former Clevelander, has held the title since 1998.

He’ll be back in his hometown this week for the 25th annual Tri-C JazzFest. Benson, Krall, Dr. John, Joe Lovano, Jimmy Scott and others perform Saturday at Playhouse Square’s Allen Theatre in a salute to LiPuma, 67.

"I’m honored," he says. "On the other hand, it makes you wonder: Are you coming toward the twilight of your career? Frankly, I feel I’m at the top of my game."

LiPuma co-produced three albums for Davis, starting with 1986’s "Tutu." It included a cover of "Perfect Way," originally done by Scritti Politti, another 1980s pop act that LiPuma brought to the attention of Davis.

"He wasn’t what I call a jazz cop," LiPuma says. "He loved all kinds of music."

Ditto LiPuma. He wholeheartedly buys into the old Duke Ellington maxim: There are only two kinds of music – the good kind and the other kind.

LiPuma’s latest productions are albums by Al Jarreau and Krall.

Veteran vocalist Jarreau’s "Accentuate the Positive" is due in stores Tuesday, Aug. 3. LiPuma was behind the mixing board for two previous Jarreau releases, "Glow" (1976) and the live double album "Look to the Rainbow" (1977).

"He’s a brilliant producer," says Jarreau, who performs Friday at the Allen Theatre as part of the JazzFest’s "Silver on Silver" salute to another LiPuma client, hard-bop pianist Horace Silver.

LiPuma has a knack for "knowing artists, knowing what they do, allowing them to do it and then pushing them where he thinks their strengths are — and beyond those strengths," Jarreau says.

While working on his new album, Jarreau found himself scatting the melody of "Groovin’ High," a Charlie Parker-Dizzy Gillespie chestnut: "Duh-dut, duh-dut-dut, bah-doo-bee-ooh-bee-ooh-duh-dut’ll-doo-day. . . ."

LiPuma’s ears pricked up. "Is there a lyric, Al?" he asked.

"Well, I’ve thought about doing a lyric for it," Jarreau replied.

LiPuma encouraged him to go for it.

Jarreau did. The finished track turned out to be "one of my best efforts," he says.

Krall’s new album, "The Girl in the Other Room," comes out Tuesday, April 27. It features six songs co-written by the singer-pianist and her husband, rocker Elvis Costello.

LiPuma co-produced "The Girl in the Other Room" with Krall, whom he refers to as "my baby." He has overseen seven of her eight albums.

"Tommy is my ears — he can hear things I can’t hear," Krall said in a 2001 interview with The Plain Dealer. "He loves music, art, beauty and all the meaningful things in life, including really good wine."

At Sistina, LiPuma orders a bowl of pasta. It arrives perfectly al dente and prepared, per his specifications, with cherry tomatoes. A seafood dish follows in short order.

"This is the branzino," LiPuma says, digging into the Italian-style sea bass. "Delicious!"

Between sips of espresso in the afterglow of the meal, he’ll gladly tell you about working with ultradiva Streisand on "The Way We Were," her 1974 No. 1 album: "She knows exactly what she wants."

Or the truth behind "Weekend in L.A.," singer-guitarist Benson’s 1977 live album: "It wasn’t really as live as it sounded. . . . We had to redo the vocals."

Or the emotional experience of recording the title track of Cole’s 1991 "Unforgettable" album, a virtual duet between the singer and her late father, Nat "King" Cole: "When we did it, it stopped all of us in our tracks."

Lawyers, accountants running the show

LiPuma lights up when he talks about music. But his mood turns somber when the conversation turns to the music business.

"The sooner corporate America gets out of it, the happier I’m going to be," he says.

Verve Music Group is the parent company of four record labels: Verve, Impulse!, GRP (which LiPuma ran in the 1990s) and Blue Thumb (where LiPuma worked in the late ’60s and early ’70s with such acts as Dan Hicks and Dave Mason).

In addition to a catalog rich with jazz greats (Ellington, Count Basie, John Coltrane, Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday, among others), the company’s current artist roster includes the likes of Krall, Jarreau, Benson, violinist Regina Carter and keyboardist Herbie Hancock.

Verve Music Group is a subsidiary of the world’s leading music company, Universal Music Group, which had revenues of $6 billion in 2003. Universal (itself a division of multinational media conglomerate Vivendi Universal) does not release specific financial data for its subsidiaries.

"The record business used to be basically a group of entrepreneurs . . . who made gut decisions and ran their own ships," LiPuma says. "They didn’t have to worry about making their quarter or if Wall Street was going to give them its blessing. They were music people.

"Today, with a few exceptions, you have lawyers and accountants running the show. It’s very unfortunate."

LiPuma has delegated the day-to-day responsibilities (read: headaches) of running Verve Music Group to his second-in-command, President and CEO Ron Goldstein.

"I handle the creative aspects," LiPuma says. "When you make records, all you want is the right performance. . . . As a producer, everything is about waiting for the moment when the artist drops a magic take. One of the most important parts of my job is knowing when the moment happens."

Magic has struck in the studio time and again for LiPuma, who has made more than 20 gold, platinum or multiplatinum records. He also has won three Grammy Awards: Record of the Year in 1976 for Benson’s smash "This Masquerade," Album of the Year in 1991 for Cole’s "Unforgettable" and Best Jazz Vocal Album in 2002 for Krall’s "Live in Paris."

The way he was: Cleveland roots

Born in Cleveland to Italian immigrants, LiPuma was the youngest of five children. His brothers, Joe and Henry, and sister Therese still live in the area; another sister, Josephine, died in 1984.

LiPuma’s family moved often when he was young, from Cleveland’s Kinsman neighborhood to University Heights to Warrensville Heights to Beachwood.

"The radio was always on in our house," LiPuma says. "In those days, it was Bing Crosby, the Andrews Sisters, Jo Stafford.

"Some way or another, I ended up where I ended up. But I’m a pop junkie. I love great pop music.

"By the time I was 18, I loved bebop — Charlie Parker, Horace Silver, all those guys. But it didn’t take away from my love for pop music."

When he was 9, LiPuma developed osteomyelitis, a debilitating bone infection. He spent nearly three years laid up in bed.

"The radio became my friend," he says. "I discovered the R&B station in those days, WJMO, and I started hearing Charles Brown, Louis Jordan, Nat Cole and Ruth Brown. I was a complete R&B nut by the time I was 12.

"Then I started playing saxophone. . . . I’ll never forget: The music teacher at Shaker Heights Junior High School gave me an F in music because I didn’t show up for a concert."

LiPuma dropped out of school when he was 18, although he only made it through 10th grade. His illness had left him two grades behind his friends. "I felt out of place," he says.

By then, he was earning $25 a night playing sax in local clubs.

His father, a barber, sent LiPuma to barber college and gave him a loan to buy a barbershop in the Keith Building on Euclid Avenue in Cleveland. Among his customers were various radio disc jockeys, including future "American Top 40" host Casey Kasem, who used to work at the old WJW AM/850.

But LiPuma’s heart wasn’t into cutting hair. He leased the shop, packed his sax and hit the road for a year with a jazz combo.

Upon his return to Cleveland in 1960, LiPuma got a job as a record promoter with M.S. Distributors.

The following year, he was hired to do promotion for Liberty Records. He later transferred to the company’s music publishing division. LiPuma primarily was based in Los Angeles, although he briefly lived in New York in 1962 and relocated there permanently in 1984.

The first album he produced was "Comin’ Through," the 1965 debut by an R&B group from Canton — the O’Jays.

Making hits, taking hits

He scored his first gold record one year later with the Sandpipers. The easy-listening trio’s Top 10 single "Guantanamera" was produced by LiPuma, who also recited the spoken-word bit in the middle of the tune: "I am a truthful man from the land of the palm trees. . . ."

He went on to work as a producer and A&R (artists and repertoire) executive for several other record companies, including A&M, Warner Bros. and Elektra. Along the way, LiPuma collaborated with a range of artists, from Dr. John to Michael Franks to Joe Sample.

Somebody once asked LiPuma how it felt to be the father of smooth jazz. He was mortified.

"I detest — de-test! — smooth jazz," he says. "Shall I call it the height of mediocrity? Everything has become so predictable.

"The jazz community can blame itself for what ultimately ended up happening with jazz. Basically, it has gone nowhere."

Some jazz purists blame LiPuma for his pop-savvy meddling — at least to hear him tell it.

"Critics like Gary Giddins hate my [expletive] guts," LiPuma says. "They think I’m the Antichrist. [Giddins] referred to me as a hack."

Giddins, former jazz critic for The Village Voice and the author of biographies of Louis Armstrong, Bing Crosby and Charlie Parker, is widely regarded as a top jazz authority. (Even LiPuma says Giddins is "erudite.")

Giddins gave his side of the story via e-mail last week.

"I don’t hate Tommy LiPuma’s ‘[expletive] guts,’ " he wrote. "It is possible that I once referred to him as a hack, but I can’t recall the occasion and a global search of everything on my hard drive, dating back 20 years, turns up only one mention of his name."

In a review of the 1997 JVC Jazz Festival, Giddins made a passing reference to LiPuma as "the record industry menace who specializes in convincing good musicians to play bad music."

‘A rare breed’ and ‘a beautiful cat’

Tommy LiPuma — a "menace"? Jarreau scoffs at the notion.

LiPuma is "a rare breed," Jarreau says. "Maybe a guy like Tommy is too nice for this industry."

Sax player David Sanborn, on the bill for the JazzFest’s Silver tribute, has cut a couple of albums with LiPuma.

"You can always tell a Tommy LiPuma production," Sanborn says. "He makes high-class, high-quality records. . . . He has the ability to make records with broad appeal, too.

"I don’t think there’s anything intrinsically wrong with a lot of people liking your music. If you’re doing something you don’t believe in, that’s another story. But I don’t think Tommy has ever done that. . . . He has a real passion for the music."

LiPuma is "a beautiful cat," says another music legend from Cleveland, jazz singer Jimmy Scott. His 1992 comeback album, "All the Way," was produced by LiPuma.

"He knows his stuff," Scott says. "If you have an idea and you talk it over with him, he’ll make it happen. He doesn’t limit his thoughts about the music."

LiPuma doesn’t limit his interests to music, either.

Paintings by American Modernists usually fill his Park Avenue apartment, although for the time being, the walls are dotted with empty hooks. "Modern American Masters: Highlights From the Gill and Tommy LiPuma Collection" is on view through Sunday, July 18, at the Cleveland Museum of Art. The exhibition features works by some of LiPuma’s favorite artists (not of the recording variety), including Alfred Maurer, Marsden Hartley and Arnold Friedman.

Gill is LiPuma’s wife of 35 years. They have two grown daughters.

"I love art. . . . You’ve got structure, form, textures — the same things you have in music," says LiPuma, recently elected a trustee of the Smithsonian Institution’s Archives of American Art.

"I’d like to be a private [art] dealer," he says. "I also still enjoy making records. I don’t want to stop. . . . At this point, the last thing I’m thinking about is retirement."

[i-am-a-blue-dragon]

If I'm doing all the music asks, so are you. I CHALLENGE THEE.

It has been a calendar year since you sent me this.  SORRY.  You know I’ve been busy.  @groovyaviator also asked me Daft Punk, Fall Out Boy, and Led Zeppelin.  Let’s do this.

- Alabama Shakes: Favorite female lead? Aurora.

- Arctic Monkeys: Favorite male lead? Chris Martin.

- Ben Howard: An album that reminds you of your favorite season? Aurora’s All My Demons Greeting Me as a Friend, because it reminds me of when of that moment in late October when you realize winter is on its way.  But I’m also a fan of our weather right now, so for that I would assign Coldplay’s Mylo Xyloto.  And I’ve also come to favor the weather around my birthday midsummer, and for that I’d assign The Golden Age by Woodkid.

- Bon Iver: An album you could listen to on repeat for years? Coldplay’s X&Y. Regina Spektor’s Far, as well as What We Saw from the Cheap Seats.  alt-J’s entire discography. The How to Train Your Dragon soundtrack by John Powell.  The soundtrack to Jane Eyre by Dario Marianelli.  The Golden Age by Woodkid.

- Bastille: A song that brings back bad memories? Already Over by Red.  Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood.  The Ballad of John Hurt by alt-J, but the memory is more bittersweet than bad.  Yes by Coldplay, tied closely with Two Birds by Regina Spektor.

- The Beatles: An artist you think is overrated? Ed Sheeran.

- Coldplay: A band you used to love but never listen to anymore? Coldplay, right now!  I still love them very much but I’ve been listening to a lot of other stuff.  Also, Linkin Park, Chevelle, Breaking Benjamin, Evanescence… I went through a phase.

- Daft Punk: Favorite instrumental (no vocals) song? The Heart Asks Pleasure First by Michael Nyman.  It also is my favorite song, but specifically the composer’s cut version.

- Dawes: A genre of music you absolutely cannot stand? I really have a hard time with country.  I’m sorry, Becca.

- Electric Light Orchestra: Favorite song to help you cheer up? I have a 75 song playlist of these, my dude.  Rasputin by Boney M. reminds me of a ridiculous time in high school and never fails to make me smile, but most of the time my go-to is Everything’s Not Lost by Coldplay.

- Elliot Smith: Favorite song to listen to when you’re sad? I tend not to listen to a lot of music when I’m sad… but maybe the cover of Where Is My Mind by Bandit.

- Evanesence: Ever done drugs and listened to music? Lol no.

- Fun.: Put your music on shuffle and list the first three. Whatever happens, I blame Spotify: 1) Dust by Hans Zimmer (Interstellar soundtrack), 2) The Kill Ring by John Powell (How to Train Your Dragon soundtrack), 3) Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood.  I only can recall listening to the middle one because I have a habit of saving albums to listen to later.

- Fall Out Boy: First album you fell in love with? Vocal: Linkin Park’s Meteora. Instrumental: John Williams’s soundtrack for Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

- Green Day: A song that makes you feel rebellious? Boss Ass Bitch by PTAF!

- George Ezra: A song that reminds you of a past lover? I don’t really have any of those, but you can refer to the bad memory response because it’s basically the same list.

- Genesis: A band that your parents always played when you were little? The Rolling Stones, because if it’s parents plural my dad is the automatic DJ and he plays classic rock exclusively.

- Hozier: Favorite brand new artist? How new is new?  Brand new to me right now are Tom Odell and Glass Animals but both have been at it since 2012.

- Iron & Wine?: What song would you want to be played at your wedding?“ Sleeping At Last did a cover of The Proclaimer’s I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) that I absolutely fucking love.  But I would rather do an upbeat surprise choreographed dance number for my first dance because I don’t know how I feel about sharing an intimate moment with my new spouse in front of all those people.

- Imagine Dragons: What song would you want played at your funeral? At the beginning?  Talk by Coldplay.  At the end, The Heart Asks Pleasure First by Michael Nyman.

- Jack Johnson: A song you heard in a movie and fell in love with? Hans Zimmer’s song Time off of the Inception soundtrack.

- Joy Division: Your least favorite album by your favorite band? Ghost Stories by Coldplay because it’s sad and boring.  Probably also their newest album but I’ve refused to sit through all of it so I don’t know.

- The Killers: Name your top three songs of all time. So many repeating answers tonight! The Heart Asks Pleasure First by Michael Nyman; Talk by Coldplay; Aurora’s cover of Nature Boy.

- Linkin Park: Suggest a band you think I might like. @beccathevampyreslayer I think you’d really enjoy How to be a Human Being by Glass Animals because it’s equal parts dark and upbeat. @groovyaviator, listen to The Golden Age by Woodkid.  Becca can tell you that I’ve loved that album for years because the artist is also a director and intentionally writes his music to make listeners feel like the hero of a film.

- Led Zeppelin: Favorite album art? HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME CHOOSE.  The Golden Age by Woodkid.  Literally any art featured on an album or EP for Sleeping At Last.  The Resistance by Muse.  Any artwork featured in EPs or albums by Fleet Foxes.  Light & Gold by Eric Whitacre (if one is looking to buy a print for me I’d go with this one).  Parachutes by Coldplay.  The Lateness Of The Hour by Alex Clare.  Anything used by Foster The People.

- Muse: Craziest music video you’ve ever seen? Nothing will ever beat the Turn Down For What music video.

- Mumford & Sons: Favorite cover version of a song you love? Any iteration of Nature Boy by Nat King Cole but especially Aurora’s version.  The same can probably also be said for The Sound of Silence by Simon & Garfunkel, but nothing beats the original.

- The National: A song you sing in the shower? (I Won’t Say) I’m in Love from Hercules!

- Nathaniel Rateliff: A song that never fails to make you emotional? Laughing With by Regina Spektor has like a 50% chance of making me cry, as does Coming Back Around off the How to Train Your Dragon soundtrack.

- One Direction: Backstreet Boys or NSYNC? I liked both!  I think when I was younger I favored NSYNC, but boy bands aren’t really my mode of choice for experiencing ‘90s nostalgia.

- Pink Floyd: You can go back in time to see any band you want. Who would it be? Coldplay when they were touring for X&Y.  Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite as its debut.

- Queen: You can meet any band member, living or dead, and hang out with them for 24 hours. Who would it be? Eric Whitacre, who I have met before but definitely didn’t hang out with.  He’s a hero of mine because he kind of walked into his hometown university, picked up music super late, and went on to redefine classical music.  He was driven by passion, and his lack of early training really shows in the innovation in his work - the man draws PICTURES of his music before even trying to write down notes.  And he collaborates with all manner of interesting people, pulling source material from really unconventional places.  I’ve been contemplating a major change in life paths for the last year or so and it’s always very heartening to see someone do the same, and especially by sheer force of will.

- Radiohead: Favorite concert you’ve ever been to (or a band you want to see live). I saw Aurora live in November and she changed my life.  Marina and the Diamonds was incredible and so was her opening act, Christine and the Queens, who I also love.  Regina Spektor was so good live too.  And seeing Ke$ha last fall was just a lot of fun.  I regret not going to see Coldplay a lot sooner because I’d love to see them in general but I don’t like most of their newest music and I’d really rather hear stuff from Mylo Xyloto and earlier.

- Rihanna: A musician you respect, even if you might not like their music? I don’t really listen to Demi Lovato but I have mad respect for everything she advocates for.

- Roo Panes: Favorite acoustic version of a song? Aurora’s acoustic version of Murder Song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1).  It’s haunting.

- Simon & Garfunkel: Favorite album movie? (Ex. Yellow Submarine, The Wall, Help!, The Graduate) Kill me later but I don’t think I have ever seen one in its entirety.  I think I watched Help! with Becca, though.

- Skrillex: What’s the strangest song you have on your iPod right now? Rasputin by Boney M. and Chaccaron Maccaron by El Mundo.

- Tame Impala: A band none of your friends listen to? Aurora, Christine and the Queens, Tom Odell.  Becca introduced me to the last one but she doesn’t listen to his discography actively.

- Taylor Swift: Name that one artist that literally makes you so angry you’re willing to throw the damn radio right out the window to make it stop. I’ll never be over the travesty of Robin Thicke.  One of my favorite members of being a community advisor was our end of the year celebratory dinner, when the DJ started this song and the whole room stopped dancing and stared and him and I called over, “Please just change the song.”  Rape culture is bad, kids.

- U2: A song or album that somehow got onto your iPod but you have no idea where it came from??? Weird. Probably some random movie soundtrack.

- The Vaccines: What are your favorite lyrics? Quote them for me. Do they mean something special to you? “Are you lost or incomplete? Do you feel like a puzzle, you can’t your missing piece?” “Are you what you want to be?” “Is this the life you’ve been waiting for?” “Good is better than perfect, scrub ‘til your fingers are bleeding.  And I’m crying for things that I tell others to do without crying.” “I want to love you but I don’t know how.” “Are you getting stronger or is time shifting weight?” “Potentially lovely, perpetually human, suspended and open…” “You can’t pin me down!”  You might sense a theme here.  I think I do.

- Vampire Weekend: A band or artist you follow on Twitter? No Twitter for me, but if I did it’d be Eric Whitacre because his fans send him good music memes and he shares the best of them.

- Vance Joy: An artist where you can never tell what the hell they’re singing? Chevelle and George Ezra.

- Weezer: Favorite old school band? Simon & Garfunkel.

- The xx: A genre/band you’ve been getting into that you never thought you would enjoy? Synthpop.

[fashionavenuenews]

A king of excess, Roberto Cavalli showed his first collection of printed leather gowns in 1970 and has since built a desirable lifestyle empire. Exotic elegance, wild prints and bohemian glamour are inherent in every collection and his seductive cuts have provided everyone from Jennifer Lopez to Victoria Beckham with red-carpet drama.

Sexing-up denim in the Noughties with his youth line, Just Cavalli, Roberto is a designer of both substance and style, as he has made cutting-edge developments in textile technology throughout his career. Often seen surrounded by beautiful women, Cavalli’s lavish lifestyle may lead people to consider him as an archetypical Italian lothario, however the designer has been happily married for over 30 years. His extravagant Tuscan estate (complete with pools and a vineyard), stable of racehorses (the jockeys wear leopard-print Cavalli silks) and a vast collection of toys (Ferraris, a helicopter and a 138-foot, iridescent purple yacht), do however ensure that he is the embodiment of the extravagance that he sells.

Roberto Cavalli was born on November 15 1940 in Florence, Italy. Artistic talent ran in the family as his grandfather was a celebrated Impressionist painter and his mother a seamstress. He stuttered as a child, which as he would later tell Colin McDowell was cured by a surge in confidence and a new-found fascination with girls.

While studying at the Academy of Art in Florence in 1957, Cavalli decided not to become an artist, instead experimenting by applying painterly techniques to textiles in ways that had not been practised before. “My dream, maybe because of my family, was to be a painter. I chose in one moment the direction of textiles; from textiles I went to fashion,” he later reflected.

Roberto married his first wife Silvanella Giannoni in 1964 and had his first two children. “I met a girl, the first girl I loved, and I married her with the first money I got,” he told us in 2011. “We first made love the night we married, after knowing each other for four years, and we had my first daughter nine months and ten days later!” After 10 years of marriage, Silvanella and Roberto divorced in 1974.

In 1970, Roberto Cavalli showcased his revolutionary materials for the first time in his debut collection. “I had this idea to print on leather. I used glove skin from a French tannery, and when I started to print, I saw it was possible to make evening gowns in leather… in pink-unbelievable,” he said. Having patented his leather printing technique, he earned commissions from other design houses including Hermès and Pierre Cardin.

Cavalli opened his first boutique in Saint-Tropez in 1972, foreseeing the potential of the fishing village as a desirable destination for the fashion elite.

The rich aesthetic that Roberto had coined did not chime with the minimalistic and deconstructive fashions presented by the new wave of Japanese and Belgian designers in the mid to late 1980s. As a result, business was quieter and Roberto concentrated on family life, marrying beauty queen Eva Duringer and having three more children. Eva became creative director of the Roberto Cavalli collection and the couple have worked together since.

Cavalli’s career entered an exciting new phase at the start of the Nineties. Applying artistic techniques to denim, he presented his first printed jeans in 1988, showed the first sand-blasted jeans in his autumn/winter 1994 collection, and worked with Lycra to invent stretch jeans in 1995. These innovations in textile technology consequently exploded in popularity and have diversified the denim market dramatically.

Confirming his status as a pioneer in the denim world, Roberto Cavalli launched Cavalli Jeans (later renamed Just Cavalli) in 2000.

In December 2004 Cavalli sponsored ‘Wild: Fashion Untamed’ at the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute in New York, an exhibition that examined the human fascination with animal skins, and animal references in clothing throughout history. “It’s not really that I love to use animal print, I like everything that is of nature,” Roberto told us in 2011. “I started to appreciate that even fish have a fantastic coloured ‘dress’, so does the snake, and the tiger. I start(ed) to understand that God is really the best designer, so I started to copy God.”

For its first re-design in 25 years, Playboy called on Cavalli to vamp up its famous bunny costumes in June 2005. “(Roberto) too embraces the good life, inspires an aspirational lifestyle for a jet-set crowd and of course celebrates beautiful women,” playboy CEO Christie Hefner enthused.

Set in a snakeskin-covered bottle, Roberto Cavalli Vodka was launched in September 2005. Followed by wines, restaurants and members’ clubs, these brand expansions confirmed Cavalli as the go-to designer for an elite lifestyle.

2007 saw the designer collaborate with some of the music industry’s leading female artists. Christina Aguilera and Jennifer Lopez both asked the designer to create costumes for major concerts, while the Spice Girls wore a custom-made Cavalli wardrobe for their global reunion tour.

That November, Cavalli launched his first high-street collection for H&M. In the advertising campaign, shot by Terry Richardson, the designer asked, “How can I miss the party? I am the party,” before celebrating with models Erin Wasson and Jessica Stam in his Florentine villa. “Fashion can be glamour and fantasy, and at its best can even make reality a little more fun,” H&M’s marketing director told us at the time. “Wearing Cavalli’s creations is all about that.” The collection sold out within hours of launching.

Another opportunity to collaborate presented itself in July 2008, as the house of Cavalli designed a limited edition Diet Coke bottle.

In 2009 Cavalli appeared on The Martha Stewart Show and spoke for the first time about a desire to succeed in the photography world. “My dream in the near future is to create a big exhibition that would showcase my (photographs) from Africa and other exotic places. I used to shoot subject for my prints and my passion has evolved.”

Cavalli celebrated 40 years of business in 2010. The company was named the number one women’s fashion label on the Luxury Brand Status Index, released a celebratory coffe-table book and held an extravagant Parisian party attended by Heidi Klum, Kylie Minogue, Naomi Campbell and Taylor Swift.

In March 2012 Cheryl Cole became Cavalli’s latest celebrity muse, wearing a custom-made outfit for a performance on UK television show The Voice. “Cheryl is the perfect Cavalli woman, strong, confident and sexy,” the designer told us. “We used the signature Cavalli Fantasia and leopard prints to create a show-stopping outfit.”

October 2012 will see the launch of Cavalli’s second high-street line, this time for Australian Target. Georgia May Jagger is also confirmed to be the face of the Just Cavalli perfumes from March 2013.

At 71 years old, the designer is reluctant to retire, despite all that he has achieved. “Well, sometimes I say when I’m completely tired… but I feel a lot of responsibility to my fans: what they expect from me,” he told us in 2011. “They expect a lot, but at the same time fashion is a part of my DNA. I could never live without it.”

                  AMAZING RUNWAY BY ROBERT CAVALLI A king of excess, Roberto Cavalli showed his first collection of printed leather gowns in 1970 and has since built a desirable lifestyle empire.

[totesmccoats]

Doomsday Clock #3

The opening to this issue, which recreates some of the first pages of the original Watchmen comic perfectly illustrates the biggest problem I’ve had with this series’ art since issue one: the coloring. This isn’t to say that Anderson is doing bad work, just that the aesthetic he chooses for the Watchmen universe undercuts what Watchmen is, and makes its position relative to the DCU awkward.

What the “realistic” colors of the Watchmen universe in Doomsday Clock tells me is that the team behind the book forgot, or are ignoring that Watchmen is – first and foremost – a satire. It’s not parody, but it is heightened all the same, and Higgins’ oversaturated colors – like the red in the original Comedian murder sequence – help the reader understand that they are reading a heightened universe. And where the original Watchmen is a heightened version of the real world and the universes typically expected of comic books at the time, Doomsday Clock, in its coloring as well as its text, seems to position the Watchmen universe as a more realistic take on the superhero genre than the DCU, which, it’s not. While Watchmen ostensibly takes place in a universe that superficially more closely resembles the real world, it is and always has been exactly as fictional as the comics it deconstructs. Right now, the impression I’m getting from Doomsday Clock is that the DCU is some sort of cartoon world that the Watchmen characters are jumping into when that really shouldn’t be the case.

Doomsday Clock corrects this course with the characters of Marionette and Mime, whom represent probably the single best part of the story so far in terms of originality while also fitting perfectly into both universes; and whom have the best scene in this issue that also answers one of the most pressing questions the series has introduced.

Other than that delightful scene, this issue concerns the reunion between Comedian and Ozymandias in Lex Luthor’s office which favors mirroring their earlier fight for references’ sake rather than meaningfully add to the story this book attempts to tell. Rorschach gives Kovak’s journal to Batman to learn about, well, Watchmen; while we learn a bit more about the new Rorschach. And Johnny Thunder, still stuck in assisted living, waits for his children to rescue him while this book’s version of “Tales From the Black Freighter”, a noir movie, plays on a TV in the same room. There’s a lot going on this issue, seemingly lots of thematic set-up with the introduction of the noir movie parallel, but right now it’s mostly lots of scrambled pieces. Not necessarily a bad thing this early in what is ostensibly a mystery story; but a little frustrating that Doomsday Clock still doesn’t feel like it has a point to it beyond crossover appeal.

  Nightwing: The New Order #6

Well, it’s a happy ending, at least. Shades of Kingdom Come, for sure.

In exchange to make Jake no longer a target of the state, Dick leads the Crusaders to the Titan’s Metropolis hideout; but Jake refuses to just go home with his father. Managing to convince his father to switch sides – yet again – Jake and Dick return to try to turn the tides in the last stand between the resistance and the Crusaders by restoring the greatest hero of all to power.

I don’t know, there’s something about having Dick flip-flop one last time for the end of the story that feels unearned. And then the actual end of the conflict involves everyone suddenly dropping everything to fight a new third thing, and it feels like the book drops the ball on actually resolving it’s central conflict of fascism vs. antifa for something more easily digestible.

  Wild Storm #11

Skywatch and IO both continue gearing up for all out war, pushing the limits to get the other to cross the line first. Bendix tells Lauren of the last time the two fought head-on to prepare her for what might come this time. Spicia upgrades herself. Lucy warns Cole that things will get much worse than he expects.

The stand-out part of this issue is Bendix’s flashback, which presents itself as a black-and-white 50’s sci-fi B-movie, with fake looking flying saucers and cold-war panic included. Other than that though, the book continues it’s slow build up to…whatever it’s building up to.

  Amazing Spider-Man #794

It’s been exactly a year since Spider-Man threw Scorpio, the leader of the Zodiac syndicate, a year into the future to prevent him from using future knowledge to conquer the world; and he and Horizon are preparing for his return. Meanwhile, in a secret underwater vault, some Goblin agents retrieve a world-threatening object for their boss.

We’re three issues out from Slott’s last arc of Amazing Spider-Man, and judging from this issue, the next two are also going to be one-shot stories that also set up that last story. And, as long as they’re all as tight as this issue, that should be fine. This issue’s A-plot feels like a distraction in kind of the worst way, but it’s also fine; it’s a short, low-stakes Spidey story that Slott can probably write in his sleep by now. And Immonen, Grawbadger, and Gracia are still delivering some gorgeous art to go with it.

  Black Panther #169

I hope this issue’s cover didn’t get you too excited for a huge Black Panther, Avengers, X-Men team up because none of those characters are even in this one. As Klaw, Stane, Faustus, and Zenzi prepare to sacrifice Ayo to revive Klaw’s sister using a process that unleashes enough sonic energy to render everything else in the issue completely silent; Aneka frees herself from Klaw’s guards, breaks her chains, and goes to rescue her lover.

It’s fine. Basically an issue long action sequence with a sneaky conceit that makes Aneka’s ability to stealthily go through Klaw’s base more believable. That cover is bound to set people up for disappointment though. Heck of a final page tho.

  Marvel Two-in-One #2

Ben and Johnny return to the site of their first adventure, Monster Island, to look for the device Reed left them to explore other dimensions. But instead of the device, they find themselves in the middle of a political dispute between Mole Man and the monsters over who gets to rule the island. Instead of an election, they agree that whichever side kills the interlopers will rule. And, there’s one more visiter to the island who could prove friend or foe.

Zdarksy starts the issue off with Ben in an uncomfortable place, having just told a huge lie to one of his best friends, and having to keep it going to keep that friend in high spirits. Luckily, Ben hides it well, and is able to pal around with Johnny as the latter discusses how he hasn’t showered or brushed his teeth since getting his powers. By the end of the issue, though, while he’s kept up the lie to Johnny, he’s also found a piece of deeper truth to hold on to from his friendship with Reed, a poignant memory regarding one of their other early adventures.

As with Howard and Star-Lord, Zdarsky settles nicely into his protagonists’ melancholy while also digging up what keeps them going. While Johnny is in this to rescue his sister and Reed, Zdarsky makes it clear that Ben is doing this for Johnny. He hates that he has to lie to the kid, but the responsibility he feels to keep Johnny going is also what’s pulling him back into the Fantastic Four swing of adventure.

  Sex Criminals #21

Six months after the break-up Jon grew a beard! Also, he works at the now Apple-Store themed Cumworld sex-shop, full of Zdarsky’s trademark hilarious background jokes. It’s fine, he’s fine. Suzie started dating a museum director whose fine and moved back in with her mom. Again, fine. Not great, but fine. And then they see each-other at a party, and are wearing the exact same outfit. Also fine. It’s fine. He’s fine. She’s fine. Everything’s fine. It’s fine.

Gosh this is a rough issue. Because if you can’t tell, everything’s not fine. Both Jon and Suzie have settled, and neither is happy with it. Not completely. Things are fine, and that’s a problem, because they could be better. On the bright side, Dr. Glass and Dr. Kinkaid seem happy together.

Comic Reviews 1/24/18 Doomsday Clock #3 The opening to this issue, which recreates some of the first pages of the original Watchmen comic perfectly illustrates the biggest problem I’ve had with this series’ art since issue one: the coloring.

[tanmath3-blog]

Influenced by Stephen King and Rod Serling, Sean Seebach has written three books: A Looking in View, Autumn Dark and Our Monsters Are Real: The Pig Man. When Sean isn’t writing or managing a wonderful barbecue joint with amazing people, he enjoys reading, cooking, and listening to rock n’ roll. He currently lives in Ohio with his wife, daughter, and son.

  Please help me welcome Sean Seebach to Roadie Notes……..

  1. How old were you when you first wrote your first story? I was probably in elementary school. I created a comic book with some “cool dude” who just did “cool things”. Cool things being riding a skateboard and hitting home runs, things like that. The first story was one called Blue Collar Diesel which I later named The Lake Shimmers. It’s terrible. I wrote that when I was 34. So I took the title Blue Collar Diesel and wrote a novella that better suited the title. It’s in my collection A Looking In View.

2. How many books have you written? I have written three books: Our Monster Are Real: The Pig Man, Autumn Dark, and A Looking In View.

3. Anything you won’t write about? Probably not. I tend to stick to what is called Quiet Horror. Nothing too graphic or obscene. That’s not really by choice. The story is the boss. I just try to transcribe what’s happening in my head the best I can.

4. Tell me about you. Age (if you don’t mind answering), married, kids, do you have another job etc… I was born in Lancaster, PA in 1980, moved to Columbus, OH around ’82. It wasn’t the best part of town, so I wasn’t allowed to leave the yard. At the time it was a bummer. Later on I realized being confined to just the front and back yard forced me to use my imagination. I could do (and be) whatever I wanted: a spy, a ninja, a jungle warrior, whatever. Then in 1988 I moved to Lithopolis, Ohio, population around 600 people. There, I could explore the woods and creeks, ride my bike, and go to The Wagnalls Memorial Library, which still stands and became the cornerstone for my development as a reader. I did my first book signing there in May of this year. It was surreal. I am married to a wonderful wife who supports me in every aspect of life. We have a baby girl and a son who just turned 2. I work as a restaurant manager by day/night, depending on my work schedule. Next to writing, cooking and working with fun people is one of my favorite things to do. I’m a very fortunate man.

5. What’s your favorite book you have written? I should probably say Autumn Dark. That book has gotten the best response from readers. But, in truth, because The Pig Man was the first it will always be special to me. I love the story, but it isn’t written as well as the others. Which to me is a good thing because it shows that I’m improving.

6. Who or what inspired you to write? I don’t really know who or what inspired me to write. I think it chose me. I had a desire to write in my mid-20’s but I didn’t have the courage to do it. I thought you were either hand-picked by God or were chosen by teachers at a young age. Maybe it was writer, director, screen writer, producer, and occasional actor Brian Koppelman. I found him on Twitter shortly after I gave up drinking three years ago. He had posted a series of Vines on his account. Vine was a service that featured 6 second video loops. Brian was giving people permission to create in the videos he made. I looked him up, saw his credentials (Rounders, Ocean’s 13, Solitary Man, among many others) and thought “Now, here’s someone who’s done amazing things and is telling people to go out and do it!” There are many videos and books out there that will say you must be some sort of special intellectual to be an artist. Those people are wrong and most are full of themselves, are bitter, and most haven’t accomplished much. Brian had. Following him then led me to The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron and The War of Art by Steven Pressfield. I was fortunate enough to have support in the beginning. Stephen King tweeted that he had a new story called A Death in The New Yorker and asked folks to comment on it. It was on their site and free to read. I thought, “Oh boy, who has the balls to critique it?” So I scrolled through the Twitter comments. There I found someone shamelessly self-promoting herself with a story she wrote called Alive. I read it and loved it. That person was Meagan Smith who then wrote as M.J. Pack. I reached out to her and we became fast friends. Shortly after she was hired on at Thought Catalog, an online publishing magazine. She asked to read my stuff. I sent her a cannibalistic story called The Best I Ever Had. She liked it and wanted to publish it. That gave me the confidence to crank out more stories. I’ve been writing regularly ever since. I owe her a great deal. She was kind of enough to write the Foreword for Autumn Dark which I’m very proud of. I’d like to collaborate with her one day. She’s a fierce talent. Also, during that time, author Tom Callahan befriended me. I reached out to him after reading his wonderful story called The Soldier, The Dancer, and All That Glitters from Dark City Lights, an anthology put together by the great American crime fiction author Lawrence Block. Tom and I emailed back and forth a lot. He read my stuff and encouraged me to write, write, write! He gave me advice and recommended a slew of books about writing to read. I owe him a great deal. And I continue to find support to this day. Author Lincoln Cole and I have become close over the years and he’s helped me in many ways. From creating a website to building a mailing list to formatting my books for self-publishing to finding cover artist (and author) M.N. Arzu to promotional tactics. He’s a good man and I also owe him a great deal. Just recently I did an interview with author Armand Rosamilia , also owner of Project Entertainment Network, for the Armcast Podcast. I also was invited in a flash fiction contest along with authors Stephen Kozeniewski, Gabino Iglesias, and Justin Bienvenue. Three big names in the horror community. Book reviewer David Spell has been in my corner since day one and I had the fortunate opportunity to meet him in Naperville, IL during Stephen and Owen King’s tour stop for Sleeping Beauties. And, now, this interview. Thank you, Becky! I’d also like to mention that since I’ve begun listening (and advertising) on The Horror Show with Brian Keene, a podcast dedicated to the genre, I’ve met all kinds of great people: readers and authors alike. It’s opened the door to many authors I was ignorant to before. It’s also highly entertaining. But none of this would be happening without the support of my wife. She’s my first reader, my Annie Wilkes, and I still like to make her laugh and cringe, and when I do, I know I have something worth publishing.

7. What do you like to do for fun? Watch movies. This year has been great for them. IT, Gerald’s Game, The Dark Tower, Baby Driver, 68 Kill. I’m really looking forward to seeing I’m Dreaming of a White Doomsday by writer/director Mike Lombardo. The World Premiere is happening in Columbus, OH on October 20th at 2p.m. at Nightmares Film Festival. I also recently went on a hike with a close friend. No internet, no social media. Just us and nature. It was awesome to not only spend time with him, but to also disconnect from the world for a few hours. It’s something we’ll be doing regularly, weather permitting. I run on a regular basis. It keeps the head clear and helps me cope with stress. I also like to cook, try new recipes, and eat. All with balance. Dessert is okay if it’s not for breakfast. Sometimes. The most fun I truly have is building blanket forts, going to the park, and reading to my son. He likes flip books and monsters and dinosaurs. We read Harold and The Purple Crayon, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, The Little Blue Truck… Watching him develop has been the ultimate high for me. I recently bought a stack of books off Mike Lombardo. YA horror, Goosebumps, Eerie Indiana, that sort of thing, for my kids when they get older. Maybe they’ll dig them like I did.

8. Any traditions you do when you finish a book? I go to Starbucks inside of the Barnes and Noble in the town over from me and get a piece of Red Velvet Cheesecake (they sell Cheesecake Factory cheesecake) and a coffee. Then I daydream that thousands of people will rejoice in being so entertained by something I created! Then I get nervous and think my writing is garbage then I publish it anyway and buy ad space on the Horror Show.

9. Where do you write? Quite or music? I write in my office in our basement at a desk. I used to write everywhere but I found in approaching writing like a part-time job its best for me to have a designated place to work. Like, I’m clocking in for the day! Time to go downstairs and get busy. I do write to music. I have a writing playlist on Spotify with four composers: Chad Lawson (who creates music for the Lore podcast), Lena Natalia, Danny Elfman, and most recently, Jon Hopkins. Most of it is classical. I get too distracted when I write to music with lyrics. There’s a Twin Peaks playlist on Spotify that I sometimes put on as well.

10. Anything you would change about your writing? The only thing I would change about my writing is improving it. Early next year I’ll be attending the Borderlands Press Writer’s Bootcamp in Maryland. I’m also reading How To Write Short by Roy Peter Clark. Once I’m finished with The Dark Tower Series, I’m going to start reading all the authors I’ve discovered from The Horror Show. One, for entertainment and, two, I think it’s good to read books by authors from different backgrounds. It gives the mind a new perspective on the world and offers a different voice, a different way to tell a story.

11. What is your dream? Famous writer? From a writing perspective, my dream is to become a full-time writer. As Brian Keene describes it, the main source of income. Now that I’m 37, the dream is to live long days upon the Earth (Dark Tower reference) with my wife and for us to raise our children to be loving, caring, responsible adults who follow their passion. Famous writer? No. Keep the fame. But I’ll gladly accept huge royalty checks!

12. Where do you live? A small town in Ohio. Surprise!

13. Pets? One dog, Chloe. She’s a German Shepherd. We took her in after my mother-in-law passed on. She’s great with the kids and patient with us.

14. What’s your favorite thing about writing? There’s a moment when I transcend into a story. The more I write, the more that happens. I’ll go back and polish what I wrote the previous day, sometimes not remembering certain lines that I had written. Sometimes I find myself next to the characters, oblivious to my surroundings. Sounds crazy (maybe it is) but it’s true. Writing makes me feel alive, as cliché as that sounds. It enriches my life. Also, one of the most rewarding things about it is when someone reaches out to tell you much they appreciated something you’ve created. That’s special. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s very touching.

15. What is coming next for you? A book called An American Monster. I won’t get into details because it’s not finished. I’m superstitious and if you’ve read anything I’ve ever wrote then you’ll know that I need all the luck I can get.

  You can connect with Sean Seebach here:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Sean-Seebach/e/B01CUT2JMK

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/seanAseebach/

Website: https://www.amazon.com/Sean-Seebach/e/B01CUT2JMK/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1507564303&sr=8-1

Twitter: @seebach_sean

  Some of Sean Seebach’s books:

  For more on the people I’ve mentioned, here are links to their work: Meagan Smith (M. J. Pack) https://www.amazon.com/M.J.-Pack/e/B00O5APGTQ/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1507563809&sr=8-1 Tom Callahan https://www.amazon.com/Dark-City-Lights-York-Stories-ebook/dp/B00USBMIMY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1507563913&sr=8-1&keywords=dark+city+lights Brian Koppelman (no link. Just watch Billions on Showtime!) Lincoln Cole https://www.amazon.com/Lincoln-Cole/e/B00AUIOU3A/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1507564263&sr=8-2-ent M.N. Arzu https://www.amazon.com/M.-N.-Arzu/e/B013C7XY6O/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1507563985&sr=1-2-ent Armand Rosamilia https://www.amazon.com/Armand-Rosamilia/e/B004S48J6G/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1507564017&sr=1-2-ent Stephen Kozeniewski https://www.amazon.com/Stephen-Kozeniewski/e/B00FFLC5Y8/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1507564054&sr=1-2-ent Gabino Iglesias https://www.amazon.com/Gabino-Iglesias/e/B00AEBI0T8/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1507564085&sr=1-2-ent Justin Bienvenue https://www.amazon.com/Justin-Bienvenue/e/B072F3QYGW/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1507564119&sr=1-2-ent David Spell https://thescaryreviews.com/ Sean Seebach https://www.amazon.com/Sean-Seebach/e/B01CUT2JMK/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1507564303&sr=8-1 Getting personal with Sean Seebach Influenced by Stephen King and Rod Serling, Sean Seebach has written three books: A Looking in View, Autumn Dark and Our Monsters Are Real: The Pig Man.