[In response to a discussion about Belinda Carlisle posing nude for Playboy]
Well, I see what [our moderator] Nancy’s saying, though I still have problems accepting Belinda C. as my personal role model; Jane Wiedlin was always more my type. ; – ) Or even Jane “the Brain” Siberry: also a Late Boomer, if Canadian (are there Boomers in other countries too?), and a darn fine tunesmith. I think Siberry’s a fine role model or at least an instructive case study for us, notwithstanding that she’s a bit eccentric even for a musician ; -); I interviewed her twice back in the `80s (I used to write about pop and rock music and such), and even then she seemed like an avatar of self-sufficiency. For the past five years Ms. Sib has been running her own record label, Sheeba, in Toronto, to sell and distribute her own recordings, because she finally got fed up with dealing with record companies (from my own limited contacts with record companies, I don’t blame her). ; – ) . She’s having a half-price fifth anniversary sale at the moment at janesiberry.com…
Truth be told, I always loved the Go-Go’s (though I never understood the use of the apostrophe signifying the possessive in the band’s name; I mean, Go-Go’s what?). I still remember the first time I heard them, over the speakers in Record World at the mall, and thinking, “WHO is THAT?!” And the image of the water skiiers from the “Vacation” video is similarly engraved in my medulla oblongata. Ah, New Wave, teenage kicks all through the night…O Saturday morning cartoons, thou art my culture… ; 0
About [another member]’s reference to feeling that she’s stuck simultaneously in the `60s and the now: I can understand it, though personally I feel more like I’m stuck simultaneously in the mid `80s in Boston, hitting the clubs and letting garage-rock chords wash over me, and the city where I’m living now (definitely not Boston) in 2001. Perhaps we’re always stuck a bit in the time and place where we felt happiest, felt most at home. Because we don’t want to let go of that. Because if we do, then where are we? Here and now? Oh, no, that won’t do at all.
When I was a teenager, I hung a sign on the imitation-wood-paneled walls of my bedroom that read, “These are the good old days.” But I was wrong; they turned out to be the bad old days. When I consider my life the way it is now, for all the myriad ways in which it could be improved, I have to admit: I’m having a heck of a good time. I’m more confident, more realized, more myself, more the-best-I-can-be-and-still-improving.
Maybe I’ll stay right here, `cause these are the real good old days.
I would love to hear anyone else’s thoughts on this or anything else.
I’ll come out now if it’s OK. I promise to behave myself.
My best wishes to you all in this, the best of all months.
Strawberries are in season.