I've stopped wearing my ipod shuffle to the gym. The wiring annoys me, and it struck me one day that having a (semi)random shuffle of daggy music available to me is fine, because that's what I try to set up for myself anyway. People say hello more if you're not wired up, and I can still vague off and think about something else if something really awful comes on.
Today something awful came on.
This, I realised today, is not only an awful earworm, but most of the reason I loath it is visual: Tony Basil herself, and her gruesomely open-eyed mutton-dressed-up-as-hoggett face is what floats in front of me whenever I hear the song, which makes my stomach churn without fail.
I was pleasantly amused again by MC Hammer:
If you have a good look, this is the way poo-catcher pants and women's bicycle shorts are meant to be worn: not under large baggy t-shirts, but with nipped-in waists and wide shoulders to provide a crisp hourglass figure, male or female. And good, chunky thighs and bulging muscles, male or female.
I keep being surprised at how smartly dressed singers were in the late eighties. I'm not talking about the outrageous fashions (even they're pretty tame by today's standards), but when I see clips of 1980s middle-of-the-road black singers, they're not dressed in g-strings and gyrating around poles, or exposing their freshly-waxed midriffs (male or female)... they're dressed in flash suits, with hats and other accessories. The women are covered up, with maybe a touch of cleavage, but the overall impression is funky, flash and dignified.
Where has all the dignity gone?
Also, someone (probably not Robbie) has been reading their A.D. Hope*:
I love this video, if only for the utter disdain shown by the women at his constant posturing. And the implication that modern fans don't seem to ever be satisfied...
*The Return from the Freudian Isles