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bubblegum machine
August 2007 ? Week 61
Billy JoelMoving Out - Billy Joel

I'd taken off my tuxedo print t-shirt, eaten something from a can by Crosse & Blackwell, chewed on a stick of Juicy Fruit, poured myself a Pernod and orange and popped in a VHS of Arthur 2: On the Rocks when I started musing on Noel Coward's theory about the potency of cheap music.

At least I think it was Noel Coward. It could have been Chris De Burgh.

Billy Joel, pug-faced Piano Man, and his very own E Street Bland; the musical equivalent of an oil painting of a crying clown; the prince of bluecollar bathos. It's gloopy, rich and irresistible, like the 99 cent shrimp cocktail or the House Rose with the Italian name that's bottled in Chanadaigua, NY.

My silk pyjamas are starting to itch.

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Neil Diamond & Barbera Streisand< You Don't Bring Me Flowers - Neil Diamond & Barbera Streisand

I'm not sure whether I'm allowed to like this, but ultimately it's a woman singing to a man and there's nothing wrong with that. I also watch films about ninjas and even went in the 'Gadget Shop' once.

You Don't Bring Me Flowers is a melodrama of rotting bourgeois marriage... a fruity three minute pop-Broadway version of Henrik Ibsen's A Doll's House or Rings on Their Fingers with Diane Keen and Martin Jarvis.

If the in-song love between Neil and Barbera fades, it's only to be expected: love is like a lottery and romance is a raffle... I've never bought the winning ticket in either but that doesn't matter too much - the prize is usually only a bottle of Bailey's or a poor quality stuffed toy.

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Manifesto & Book News

If it's ever been on K-Tel or Ronco, it's in. If it features hand claps, cow bells, syrupy orchestration, walls of sound, wrecking crews, sha-la-las, toothy teen idols, candy-based metaphors for carnal acts or lyrics about hugging, squeezing and rocking all night long, it's in.

Room service? This is the penthouse...



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