EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert

This afternoon, I saw Baz Luhrmann's film EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert. 

Almost fifty years after he died, Elvis still blew my mind. 

I've been an Elvis fan for a long time, although I had those punk years when I didn't really want much to do with him...not because I hated him, but because I was focused on other things. When I was growing up, lots of people in my family loved Elvis: my Mom because of his gospel records, some of her sisters because Elvis was just plain hot and they loved all his records. 

Naturally, I saw Baz Luhrmann's Elvis biopic starring Austin Butler as Elvis, and I loved it. As much as I loved it, I think I loved this film even more. 

We get to see tons of rare archival footage in this movie, much of which I had never seen before. The best thing about it is that Luhrmann brings out Elvis's human, funny, humble, and caring side. The man became a myth to a certain extent, but he was still a poor kid from Tupelo who made it big because of his looks, his voice, and his charisma. 

And oh lawd, what charisma. I was sitting between my two sisters for the movie, and we looked at each other a couple of times, like, "Whew!" I think I fanned myself a couple of times. 

This movie showed a side of Elvis that we rarely got to see: his rehearsals with his Vegas band were especially fun to watch. It was obvious that he loved music, loved to perform, and he wanted to give the people who came to see him a genuine show. He performed relentlessly and had fun with his band and backup singers. I think it's fair to say that a lot of performers get to that level and just start phoning it in, but he took it seriously and gave it his all. The final scene shows him being hustled into an elevator right after a performance, sweaty, disheveled, exhausted...he bows his head, but he has a smile on his face. 

And can I just give a big "fuck you" to "Colonel" Tom Parker, who stopped Elvis from performing around the world? That would have been an amazing opportunity for Elvis and I think audiences in England, Europe, Japan—you name it—would have loved him. 

I've talked to people who think that Elvis is "overrated," mainly because he didn't write his own songs. I expressed my disagreement with this in the most vociferous terms (if you know me, you know), and I'll say it again: Elvis was one of the greatest performers of all time. I don't care that he didn't write his own songs. He brought music to people in a way that no one had done before. There's a snippet of an interview early in the movie when someone asks him about his music, and he says that his music is a combination of all kinds of different music, including country, gospel, and rhythm & blues. That is the very definition, the ORIGIN, of rock and roll. Those are the three main elements that are the nucleus of rock and roll. Did other people do it before him? Probably. But he brought it to the masses in a form that they could accept...and keep in mind that that was a very segregated time in America. Elvis brought black music to a white audience, and music was never the same. Would there still be rock and roll without Elvis? Or would it have fizzled out? I'm not sure that's an answerable question. I think it's fair to say that it would be different if it weren't for Elvis. 

How many people in the history of music have actually changed music? Brought it to new ears? Pushed the boundaries, influenced countless others, remain an influence fifty years after they died? It's not a huge list.

Overrated, my ass! 

I think it's worth a mention that I go to Sunday afternoon matinees fairly often, and I have never seen a theater this full on a Sunday afternoon. Not every seat was occupied, but it was a fairly full theater. 

Elvis. Still putting butts in seats and still one hell of a thrill! 

I did a thing

Let me start this post by saying, "Don't you judge me!" Also, I realize now that this is a bad photo. Why did I put the chips in front? I don't know. But I did and it's a done deal.

Anyway, this is something I've been wanting to try to make at home for a long time: the infamous Kmart sub sandwich!

Some of you might remember Kmart. It was kind of the poor man's Sears store (and I believe it was owned by the Sears Corporation). We weren't poor, but we weren't super rich, either, and since both of my parents were Depression kids, we shopped there quite a bit. I also shoplifted there on occasion, but that's a story for another day.

Kmart also had a deli counter and small cafeteria, and when I was a kid, these subs were a big treat, either there in the small dining area, or more often than not, gotten to-go and taken home for an easy dinner. I remember those sandwiches fondly and they really were a treat. We just didn't eat out often, so getting one of these as our dinner was kind of a big deal. Just something different, you know? Also a treat for Mom, I'm sure, since she got a break from cooking. They were really inexpensive, too. I've seen ads that listed them as two for 88 cents. Of course, this was back in the '70s.

There are several copycat recipes out there, but I finally found one that seemed 100% authentic. (These subs did NOT have banana peppers on them, trust me.) I had a few of the ingredients on hand, so being the mad scientist that I am, I decided to recreate one at home.

It's alive! It's aliiiiiiive!

And you know what? It was pretty much the way I remember it, and it was pretty tasty! Will I make another one soon? Maybe in a couple of years, when I get another hankering for one. This should do me for a while.

It was easy to make. Cut the meats and cheese in half diagonally and layer it all together. In ascending order: ham, bologna, hard salami, American cheese, sliced tomatoes, thinly sliced onions, dill pickle slices, and shredded iceberg lettuce, all inside a soft white hoagie bun with the top bun slathered with yellow mustard. Here's the important thing: once you've made it, wrap it up tightly in plastic wrap and let it sit for a half an hour. That kind of smooshes it all together and lets the mustard permeate the sandwich. That’s how they were sold at Kmart, too—wrapped up snugly in plastic wrap.

It tasted of nostalgia.

What other video would I choose?

Beth's Music Moment: "In Every Dream Home a Heartache" by Roxy Music

Standards of living
They're rising daily
But home oh sweet home
It's only a saying
From bell push to faucet
In smart town apartment
The cottage is pretty
The main house a palace
Penthouse perfection
But what goes on? 
What to do there?
Better pray there

~ "In Every Dream Home a Heartache" by Roxy Music

I know that I included the video of this in a recent post, but I'll include it again at the end for reference. 

This song is intriguing to me. On the surface, it seems to be a song about an inflatable doll (well before The Police did it with "Sally/Be My Girl"), and the lines "I blew up your body/But you blew my mind" are way too much fun and always make me laugh in a rather uneasy way. It's a disturbing song, made even more so by Bryan Ferry's menacing, unblinking delivery. 

But as I continued to read more about them, I realized there's a lot more to it than that. 

Ferry studied art at University of Newcastle and one of his instructors was pop artist Richard Hamilton. One of Hamilton's early works was titled "Just What is It That Makes Today's Homes So Different, So Appealing?", from 1956. It's a collage of images from pop culture and consumerism, and it's considered to be the first widely-acclaimed piece of Pop Art. Hamilton's goal was to show the emptiness at the heart of rampant consumerism and obsession with objects. 

Ferry revisited that theme for this particular song. It's about the disconnection in modern society: a perfect home but the only thing the owner can manage to find as companionship is an inflatable doll. Has he been driven mad by his lifestyle and ambitions? It would seem so. He is obsessed with his immortal and life-size companion, dressing her up, floating her around his new pool, but she ultimately betrays him by not giving him whatever it is he thinks he needs. She's as empty as the man's life. As Ferry himself said about the song, it's about "a guy who has everything but has nothing." 

So there is a direct connection between Bryan's art degree, a seminal work of Pop Art, and the rock song that is the subject of this entry. A fusion of art and fashion and music and societal commentary, which is exactly what Bryan's goal was in starting the avant-garde art-rock group that became Roxy Music. 

I'll cop to being an avid consumer (most recently of Roxy/Bryan albums and books) and there's no denying that I have my own obsession when it comes to them. But as long as I can justify it with deep thoughts about the songs, I figure I'm learning something along the way! That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I don't want to be "that person" who shouts at clouds about how no one makes good music anymore. That's really not the case, anyway. But I think there's no denying that Roxy's/Bryan's songs have a deep cleverness to them that is missing from much modern music. Not everything has to be social commentary, of course. Sometimes you just need to get your ya-yas out. But I'll take a clever song that makes me think about a deeper meaning any day, even if it's about an unwell man's disturbing love for his "plain-wrapper baby." 

Beth's Music Moment: "Editions of You" by Roxy Music

Sometimes you find a yearning for the quiet life
The country air and all of its joys
But badgers couldn't compensate at twice the price
For just another night with the boys oh yeah
And boys will be boys will be boys

"Editions of You" by Roxy Music

As I mentioned at the close of the last record (a little Tubes reference for you there), Roxy Music is often considered to be one of the premier proto-punk bands. While I don't hear a lot of that in their music itself (they're much more refined), their DIY attitude was definitely punk. If any of their songs comes closest to a punk sound, I think it's "Editions of You." 

I see it in the rapid-fire lyrics and the frenetic pace of the song. And the fellas themselves are in fine form. Let's go to the video! 



First, we've got Bryan Ferry in full Lounge Lizard mode, running around the stage like someone just zapped him with a Taser. Andy Mackay's shakin' those maracas, Eno's shakin' that tambourine. Andy tosses the maracas to who knows where and there he is in his demented space alien outfit blasting out a sax solo while Bryan pounds the keys. 

Then we immediately switch to Eno, who is decked out in that famous peacock feather jacket, workin' his synth, swiveling those hips. 

Then we slam right into a blistering guitar solo from Phil Manzanera. 

All the while, The Great Paul Thompson and John Porter keep the rhythm going with drums and bass respectively. 

After some rapid fire drums from Thompson, we're back to Bryan. He sings another chorus and with a "this way!" he prances across the stage to do his own one-handed synth solo (no, that's not a euphemism for anything). He hurries back to his mic to sing the final lines, Eno tosses his tambourine also to who knows where (maybe the same place Andy's maracas ended up), Bryan ends with one last "you-hoo-hoo-hoo-oooo," the band winds it up with a couple of shots and Bryan looks like he gets walloped in the head, and...just like that, we're done. 

The first time I saw that, some fifty years after it was first performed, I thought, "I don't know what the fuck I just watched but I think I'm in love!" 

Honestly, it's an absolutely bonkers performance and I can only imagine what it was like to be in the audience for something like that. 

You know that hypothetical question about if you could go back in time, where and when would you want to go? My answer to that used to be the library at Alexandria, but my new answer is one of Roxy Music's early gigs somewhere in England. 

How perplexing it must have been for some, both fans and journalists. This was the early '70s, not long after the Summer of Love, and most musicians were still wearing bell-bottom jeans and and a denim shirt to match. Roxy Music seemingly came out of nowhere, resplendent in feathers and lamé platform boots and sometimes wearing—gasp!—makeup! How shocking! How scandalous! And how glorious! 

As I think about it, that in itself was rather punk of them. They were a shock to the system of the staid singer-songwriter template, ballads, and more traditional rock tunes. A few short years later, punk rock would poke a fat finger in the eye of the music establishment. 

But Roxy did it before them. 

Beth's Music Moment: My Roxy Summer

In every dream home a heartache

And every step I take

Takes me further from heaven

Is there a heaven? 

"In Every Dream Home a Heartache" by Roxy Music

It's been well over two years since I've written here. I've been through some shit during that time. Some of you who know me know exactly what shit I'm talking about. I don't care to elaborate here at the moment. Suffice it to say that it's been a difficult time. 

However, I've learned that as tough as I've always thought I was, I was even tougher than that. And as always, music saved me. 

I was sitting at the computer one night, feeling a little aimless, going through the motions of my regular life, one that had changed so rapidly a few months before. I was watching a video of something and when it ended, a suggestion popped up for me. 

It was "Mother of Pearl" by Roxy Music. 

Of course, I knew about Roxy Music. Anyone who truly loves rock and roll does. I still have my 45 of "Love is the Drug," a song I loved back then and still love. But I had never gotten into them the way I had other bands. When you grow up in a small Midwestern town, you don't get a lot of exposure to certain bands, and Roxy was much more popular in Europe than they were in the States. 

So I watched the video and was utterly mesmerized. I watched it again. And again, growing more enchanted with every viewing. 'Enchanted' is the correct word, too. I felt as though I'd had a spell cast over me. I remember thinking, "Jesus Christ, where have you been all my life?!" 

And thus was born an obsession. 

Many of you know what a Fangirl I can be, and when I Fangirl, I Fangirl all the way. I immediately began to do research. That's really what it was, too, because I wanted to learn everything I could about this amazing band that had escaped me for far too many years. I bought CDs, vinyl, DVDs of performances, special editions, and books. I've read four of them and have about that many more to read. As I work on putting up different artwork in the house, I ordered a bunch of prints of frontman Bryan Ferry, because there's no denying that he is one of the most iconic figures in rock history. (Kind of nice to look at, too.)

It has become a months-long passion that has given me focus and joy. I was reasonably certain that I hadn't lost those things, but they were buried under some pretty major emotional upheaval, and Roxy unearthed them. It felt so good to find that passion again and it's no surprise that it was music! It was a surprise that it was a band whose first release was in 1972, but ours is not to reason why. Just hand over the passion and nobody gets hurt, okay, pal? 

If I can keep up some writing on here, I'll have more to write about individual songs (including the one that sparked the fire), but for now, I'll write briefly about the band itself and how influential they are. 

They're widely considered to be a glam rock band, but they really aren't that at all. I think they got labeled with that because of their early, flashy stage looks: feathers, sequins, platform shoes, makeup. They were absolutely visually stunning, there is no doubt about that, but on their own terms, with no conforming wardrobe rules. (See: Bryan Ferry's iconic tuxedo jacket.) They're also considered to be one of the precursors of punk, but as I took a deep dive into them, I didn't hear that in much of their music. 

What was definitely punk about them is that they embodied the punk ethos of DIY. Guys who weren't technically great musicians (except for Andy Mackay, the oboe/sax player, who studied music) but decided to learn on the job. Bryan Ferry taught himself to play the piano (just like me!) and had the novel idea of blending his art school training with music: making music as a work of art, a sort of performance art. It's no surprise that one of their biggest influences was The Velvet Underground. 

Ferry studied under the pop artist Richard Hamilton at the University of Newcastle, and when I looked up Hamilton, I found that many of his works were modernist collages: a way of looking at pop culture and consumerism, the conveniences of modern life but also the emptiness and vapidity. As I dived deep into Roxy's songs, I found that many of them are collages themselves, combining different types of music, different tempos, different feelings altogether. It's been fascinating to me to think about the art/music connection. Roxy itself was a bit of a collage: from the early days of surreal and wonky experimentation to the middle days of more straight-up rock to the final smooth and timeless pop songs. You can break it down to the "For Your Pleasure" era, the "Siren" era, and the "Avalon" era. All very different sounds, but the same core players (Ferry, Mackay, guitarist Phil Manzanera). 

Roxy's influence on other bands is beyond extensive. Steve Jones of the Sex Pistols named his first band The Strand, after a Roxy song; Souixsie and The Banshees are named after one of Bryan Ferry's college bands, The Banshees; Bananarama got their name from the Roxy song "Pyjamarama"; they are one of Duran Duran's biggest influences; one of Roxy's songs, written by Ferry, is "2HB," an homage to Humphrey Bogart, and Madness recorded a song called "4BF," an homage to Bryan Ferry; Cousin Shane's current band obsession, The Killers, has said that Roxy is one of their biggest influences. 

To say that Bryan Ferry and Roxy Music changed the face of music is no exaggeration. They were resented by many musicians and music journalists at the time because they seemed to explode on the scene so quickly. It had been widely accepted that the proper protocol was for bands to "pay their dues" by touring extensively for years, playing small clubs and colleges. Roxy upended all of that, saying, "No, we want a record contract right away," and amazingly, through doggedness and sheer ballsiness, they got it. Their debut album, self-titled, went to #10 on the British charts, which was astounding for a band that had only recently started out. 

Their presence and innovation was influential then and is just as influential now. And here I am, 50 years later, their music saving me from an ongoing dark night of the soul. While there is still a heartache in my dream home, Roxy and Bryan Ferry eased that heartache considerably, pushing it aside with passion and joy at the "discovery" of this truly amazing band. 

Viva Roxy Music! 

Anger here is all you possess

Some of you may have figured out by now that I'm a big Duran Duran fangirl. Shocking, I know, but it's true! I love them madly and I love taking deep dives into their music. They all share songwriting credits, but Simon is the poet in the bunch. His lyrics are beautiful, evocative, and often cryptic.

The other day, I was giving the 1988 album "Big Thing" yet another listen. It's one I like a lot, with the club grinder "All She Wants Is" and the beautiful songs "Do You Believe in Shame" and "Palomino." 

But when I listened to it the other day, the song that absolutely blew my mind was "The Edge of America." I sat and listened to the lyrics. Then I put in my earbuds and listened again. I pulled up the full lyrics to read and listened again, then found a great live version (included at the end of this post).

As I sat and listened, I felt a chill run down my spine. They released this song in 1988, but it feels like they were writing about what is going on in this country (and John Taylor's adopted one, at least part-time) right here and now. Take a look at the full lyrics. 

The Edge of America (written by Duran Duran)

Walk the edge of America

A concrete beach to scrape my hand

Inside the subway stinking fear and shame

Becomes the violent breath

Vigilantes out on dawn patrol

But now there's nothing left to hide

I'm just a number on the metal fence

Which marks the great divide

Hey boy

Give your dreams a rest

If you're tired of searching

This is where it ends

There's nothing left to lose

Nothing to protest

Learn to love your anger now

Anger here is all you possess

Welcome to the age

Below the towers of the citadel

Seems someone overlooked the cost

Forgotten soldier of paradise

Now paradise is lost

Recognition never realized

Salvation lost among the crowd

So tell me beside this sterile sea

Where is your nation now?

And we say

Hey boy

Give your dreams a rest

If you're tired of searching

This is where it ends

There's nothing left to lose

Nothing to protest

Learn to love your anger now

Anger here is all you possess

Welcome to the edge

I'm not sure what was in their minds in 1988 when they were writing this, but doesn't it feel pertinent to 2022? Sometimes I feel that we're on the edge and with every new finding from the January 6 Committee, we're understanding how perilously close we came to falling off. 

I still feel a visceral horror when I watch footage of those people storming our Capitol building and I feel deep-seated anger that there were people in the previous administration who were cheering it on. Not to mention any names. AHEM. Some are trying to say it was "just a protest" and no big deal. One Republican said the rioters were tourists. It's been a year but I haven't forgotten one moment of that. They were not tourists, it was not just a protest, and yes, it was a very big fucking deal.

Don't try to gaslight us. 

Soon we'll have public testimony before the Committee and they'll release their report after that. I suspect there will be some referrals to the Department of Justice, although I'm not sure how high up they'll go. You-know-who is promising to pardon the insurrectionists if he's reelected. It is within our power to ensure that does not happen and that all those responsible for that dark day are held accountable to the full extent allowed by the law. 

Anger may be all that they possess. Anger at their "country being taken away" from them, with all the implications that carries. We have more than that and let's not forget it. 

Don't let our country slip off the edge.

The Evolution of an Obsession

If you’d like a glimpse into the inner workings of my brain, behold the genesis of an obsession.

It begins with Christmas. I need to wrap presents. Anyone who knows me even slightly knows that this is an odious and tiresome task for me. In order to entertain myself, I make myself a cocktail (or two) and watch something on TV that makes me happy. In past years, it’s been episodes of “The Walking Dead,” other years it’s a Stephen King movie, sometimes it’s “Game Change.” 

For this year’s viewing pleasure, I chose the movies “The Mummy” and “The Mummy Returns,” the ones starring Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz (and Oded Fehr, but we’ll get to him in a moment). Not intellectual or historically accurate movies, by any means, but I find them a lot of fun. I’ve been fascinated by ancient Egypt since I read in grade school about the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb. The very first thing I wanted to be was an archaeologist. I love the imagery, the mystery, and the history. Adding a bunch of adventure, romance, and intrigue into the mix makes for a very fun movie for me. 

I wrap, I drink, I watch. I’m struck all over again by the aforementioned Oded Fehr as Ardeth Bay. And his incredible hair. I begin to look things up about the actor and remember that he is now a member of the “Star Trek: Discovery” cast, playing a Federation Admiral. A mini-obsession is born. A black and white picture of him is now my phone’s lock screen and wallpaper. A photo of him in a tub is now my Facebook cover photo. To give him credit for things other than being hawt, he appears to be a truly nice human being, smart and funny and devoted to his family. Awww! Good Guy Oded Fehr!

Among other discoveries, I find out that he was born in Israel, but in the movie, he plays an Egyptian. Leader of the Medjai…black robes, scimitars, and in his case, a spectacular head of hair. 

So I begin to listen to Egyptian music. I’m captivated. It sends my imagination soaring. An ancient procession, perhaps a sacred burial. A taverna with belly dancers. The glare of the hot sun, a camel ride, a trip down the Nile. 

Then I begin to investigate the cuisine in Egypt and the Middle East. I find out that there is a local restaurant that offers up that sort of fare and we resolve to go try it out soon. It sounds like I would love it. I decide I should conduct kitchen experiments and make some of this cuisine. So I begin to investigate recipes and learn that there are spices and spice mixes that I need if I want to make this. I investigate cookbooks and find one that sounds basic enough for a beginner to the cuisine. I order the cookbook. I search for the “must-have” spices. I order the spices. 

As I immerse myself in this, I begin to think about how my dream vacation has always been one in Egypt. My sister did it; I can do it, too. I inform Ken that while we need to wait for things to settle down with Covid, this is something I want us to plan for. 

I want that glare of the hot sun, I want that camel ride, I want that trip down the Nile. 

I want to see the pyramids. 

I don’t do the bucket list thing, but if I did, this would be on it. Life is too short to not see these wonders, especially when I’ve dreamed about something like this since I was a kid. It also gives me something to look forward to, something to plan for…because this winter is shaping up to be a real shitshow, with another Covid wave. I’m getting antsy to travel. 

So there you have it. An obsession that starts with wrapping Christmas presents, focuses on Oded Fehr and his hair, then meanders to culinary experiments, and finally ends on eventually planning a trip to Egypt. 

My thought process is convoluted, but it’s fun! What do you think, Ardeth?