I‘ve seen this video clip a while ago, but it’s never stopped me fascinating for the reaction of the French cinema and music stars. As I understand it, artists like Jean Rochefort, Charles Aznavour and Catherine Deneuve must’ve been watching Amanda’s clip while taking part in a TV programme. And as all of us would agree, their reaction couldn’t be more peculiar.
I was introduced to Amanda Lear’s songs by a good friend, and I never regretted this. I may be more interested in the work she did with and for Salvador Dali, but at the same time she as a performer certainly has the spell.
They say that Twitter helps you find ideas. With regards to this post, Twitter helped me find the most of it… starting with a reminder about the famous Amsterdam bed-in at the Hilton Hotel staged by John Lennon and Yoko Ono between 25 and 31 of March, 1969. Although a seasoned Beatlomaniac myself, I have forgotten about the 40th anniversary. But then someone reminded me of it.
It was Joel Warady from Chicago with whom I share both professional activity (marketing, see Joel Warady Group website) and the passion for the Grand Four from Liverpool. His first tweet was a mere mention of the 40th anniversary, but he also mentioned that at The Hilton Hotel in Amsterdam there was a plaque on the room’s door. I was curious, so I asked if one could actually see the room. Joel’s answer was positive… and next I was asking him if he would be willing to answer a few questions. The Q&A exchange happened at Facebook, so in a nutshell here is an example of harnessing the potential of some Social Networks to do the work.
So, off to Joel 🙂 And many thanks to him for agreeing to answer the questions.
Joel Warady: This was the room where John asked for peace…
JD: Let’s start with your visit to Amsterdam. Did you deliberately choose to stay at The Hilton?
JW: I tend to go to Amsterdam for work purposes, and in 2007 I decided to stay at The Hilton. I didn’t actually think that it was there that John and Yoko had staged their bed-in. But once I arrived, I recognised it straight away and asked some questions. The front desk person was the one who confirmed it, and told me that if I wanted to see the room, the General Manager would be happy to show it to me.
JD: You mentioned there was a plaque at the room commemorating the bed-in. So, you got to see it – what was the impression?
JW: I did have a chance to see the room. I saw it many times before in the clips, but it was still very inspiring to physically be there. It was very cool, it felt historical, but also a bit sad. I was thinking that this was the room where John asked for peace, but then remembering that he was shot in an act of violence… it really got to me.
JD: Do you remember your reaction to the news on December 8, 1980?
JW: When I first heard that John was killed, I was in my car, driving in the suburbs of Chicago. Ironically, I was selling life insurance at the time, and when I heard he had been killed, I pulled off the road, and cried.
JD: John seems to be an important figure for you… am I right?
JW: John’s humour was always what made me smile the most. While I enjoyed his singing, his personality was what made it for me.
JS: And what about the Beatles, then? I notice on Facebook you list them among your favourite artists.
JW: Beatles did mean a lot for me. I’m old enough to remember their US introduction, but still young enough to introduce their music to younger coworkers. Even today when I hear certain Beatles songs, I tear up thinking of when I first heard the song. It also saddens me to hear John’s and George’s voices on certain songs, knowing that they both are gone.
JS: Do you have a favourite song?
JW: This would be a tough one! Obviously, there are so many… but if I have to choose one, it is ‘If I Fell‘ from A Hard Day’s Night album.
JS: As everyone knows, we the fans love going to our stars’ concerts, visiting the places where they lived or worked, collect memorabilia. What about yourself – have you seen the Beatles perform? Or went to Penny Lane, perhaps?
JW: Well, here is what really sad: although I’ve been to the UK over 70 times, I still didn’t get to visit Liverpool or Abbey Road. I do keep promising myself to do so, of course. At the same time, I have visited the site in Soho where they had their store. The same goes for those sites in London where I know they used to be in their early days, I love going there. I’ve never seen them live, but a few years ago I went to see Paul in concert, and that was awe-inspiring. Seriously, it was one of the best concerts I’ve ever attended.
The Significance of the Amsterdam Bed-In
The 40th anniversary of the Bed-In (commemorated in The Ballad of John and Yoko) was highlighted in the media, as well as marked by a special exhibition organised by Yoko Ono and The John Lennon Estate. The exhibition at The Hilton this year showcased John’s art work, posthumously fulfilling his dream to achieve recognition as a visual artist. On a personal note, I own what must be one of those collections of coloured prints that Yoko produced to popularise John’s work. To quote John Lennon Arts Projects,
Lennon’s style as an artist has been written about extensively, and consisted of two main techniques: quick sketching and the art of sumi ink drawing, which involves the use of a fine sable brush with very black ink and water. This Oriental art technique leaves very little room for error; the consistency of the water and ink has to be carefully controlled, and the brushstrokes must suit the consistency of the ink. Quick sketching was also well suited to Lennon, as he could draw extremely fast; many of his quick sketches were made in one continuous movement in which he did not lift his pencil from the paper, thereby creating an entire complex image with a single line.
Of course, for all of us who in one way or another were influenced by Lennon’s work, and by The Beatles in general, there will be those who are more or less immune to their charms. Michael Archer of The Guardian, for instance, attempts to explain the significance of the bed-in, but ends up speculating more about the phonetic similarity between Lennon’s “peace” and Ono’s “piece”, as she called her own artwork (now, of course, “piece” as a term has been so much appropriated by artists and art critics alike, it is probably impossible to appreciate the 1969 pun in its own terms). He also puts the bed-in in the context of the Vietnam war and compares it to the Grosvenor Square demonstration of 1968. What he forgets to mention, however, that 1968 was generally the year of protests (May’68 in Paris was fittingly commemorated in Bertolucci’s Dreamers); these happened in many countries, and the Vietnam war wasn’t the only cause. Lennon wasn’t too idealistic, after all, and certainly didn’t expect the world leaders to stop fighting to watch him and Yoko possibly having sex. The bed-in was an attempt to seize the moment, to get the world come to the Amsterdam Hilton and to “give peace a chance”. To quote one of the commentators on Archer’s article:
I was in NYC the night John Lennon was shot. Driving by the Dakota the next day on the way out of town was one of the saddest experiences in my life. In some ways, it has seemed to me that that day was a turning point in our civilisation and that everything went downhill since then… I still miss John Lennon for his music also, of course, but the world today could certainly use more of his wit, wisdom, and sarcasm. A special thanks to Yoko for keeping John’s memory alive…
P.S. I was hoping to add more “value” to Joel’s interview, as I found a video on YouTube (a Social Media channel, by the way) of Hans Schiffers, a Dutch journalist, interviewing Hans Boskamp at The Hilton Hotel. The video went online in February 2009. I tried to connect with Hans via YouTube mail, but was far less successful. My attempts at securing help of other Dutch speakers I knew, sadly, failed, but the readers of this post who know Dutch are very welcome to participate. You can leave comments or email me with the transcript. Either way, it will be quoted, and a full credit will be given to you.
I am sure all of us have been missing dearly the Polnareffienne’s additions… well, no more now!
In fact, we should be grateful to a friend of mine who sent me an email about Sweet Transvestite post. I didn’t actually ask for a permission to mention this on the blog, but I’m doing so without giving out any names, so I hope he’s OK with that. In short, although a straight man, he did go out in female apparel a few times. I believe he played the part very convincingly.
I was partly replicating Polnareffienne label on my Russian blog, and Je Suis un Homme was one of the first l’Amiral’s songs that I translated into Russian. For those who already know the lyrics and the gist of the story, the connection between my friend’s email and Polnareff’s song will be obvious; for those who are yet to know the message of the song, it will become evident.
The story, of course, is that because of his provocative photographs, like the one above, Polnareff was one time thought to be gay. Unlike some of the stars, then as now, who are happy to court controversy for as long as it goes, Polnareff eventually responded with Je Suis Un Homme. And years later, when the rumours about his return began to spread, the Paris Match magazine (if I remember correctly) came out with the cover that pretty much speaks for itself.
I shall repeat what I said to my friend: I admire him and others like him, be they men or women. What I find the most admirable about this is that a straight person puts on the “persona” of their opposite gender and actually takes it out to the street. This is one thing with performers… and a very different thing with ordinary folks (although the friend isn’t quite ordinary). Somehow we continue seeing that acting is reserved for professional activity; as a result, being creative without necessarily making films or going on stage is likely to be misinterpreted. Here I remember how a few years ago I was walking in Canal St in Manchester on a weekend, and there I saw several couples where a husband was dressed as a woman. I don’t doubt for a second that the acceptance and the ability to walk out together when you look rather like two lesbians than a man and wife has demanded a lot from both partners. I guess this has something to do with the fact that acting is considered a lie sometimes. But then, exactly what is a man, and how different is the man from a woman (apart from certain physiological and anatomical aspects)?
It may be strange or not, but the road to my discovery of Rocky Horror Picture Show was paved by Mina Mazzini. Or rather, by her spectacular cover of Sweet Transvestite. For those of us who are Mina’s fans it may be very hard to say when her performance is not great or her covers are not spectacular. But I am sure that the very fact that a female cover of Sweet Transvestite exists is enough to make one wonder how it could be performed on stage or screen. This is obviously not to encroach on the achievement of Tim Curry; instead, this is simply a question of how to make the classic not only long-living but also evolving. The most obvious way is surely to make Dr. Frank-N-Furter a woman and to tell – or imagine – the story from that perspective.
The 2009 Manchester International Festival (2-19 July 2009) full programme goes up live on the site tomorrow, Thursday 19th of March, at 2pm. The tickets will be on sale from 3pm on the same day.
First of all, bookmark the MIF09 official website, and if you haven’t yet joined their mailing list, do it here. Then, you can follow their Twitter updates. Even if you’re not of Twitter, you can safely follow the festival via an RSS reader.
Speaking of… Prima Donna, the debut opera by Rufus Wainwright: I know the festival organisers were happy to hear my feedback about the poster you can see in Manchester. And on the screen by Piccadilly you can see the teaser clip… and if walking to Piccadilly is out of your regular path, then watch the clip online.
Next, you can either friend them on Facebook or MySpace – your choice. And be sure to follow their Flickr photostream and to add pictures when the time is right.
Two years ago I was attending the first ever MIF07; you can update yourself on the posts under the relevant label, and look up some pictures on Flickr. And I’m definitely looking forward to going places and events this year… naturally, reporting them here, in Los Cuadernos.
The photograph by Anthony Crook (Janis Kelly in the leading part in Prima Donna) is courtesy of Manchester International Festival 2009.
I have no doubt that very many of us – my age and younger, in particular – have known Locomotion as a song by Kylie Minogue. The older Anglophones are likely to remember the original Goffin-King version by Little Eva. Well, this particular cover is notable for two reasons. Number one, it’s in French, covered by Sylvie Vartan (official website). And number two, it is a Scopitone film, which, as I understand it, was the forerunner of music videos.
Here’s the lyrics in French (found here), in case you decide to try yourself at either French ye-ye song, or locomotion, or indeed, le deux:
Prenez le premier train qui vous fera danser
Invitez les copains qui savent bien twister
Vous allez par devant et puis vous reculez
Vous twistez en marchant ce n’est pas complique
Venez danser tous le locomotion oh oui
Si vous avez un bon ticket
Allez-y venez danser
Pour tous bagages quelqu’un qui vous plait
Attention au depart il faut vous depechez
Il est deja trop tard le train va demarrer
Et si y un voyage je prend le train de nuit
Jusqu’a la derniere heure, jusqu’au dernier whisky
Venez danser tous le locomotion oh oui
Prenez le bon wagon pour bien vous amuser
En courant le garcon ou la fille qui vous plait
Et quand le dernier train arrivera en gare
Vous quitter les copains en leur disant bonsoir
Jusqu’a demain oui le locomotion oh oui
Venez danser, venez danser tous le locomotion
Venez danser
Venez danser, venez danser tous le locomotion
Venez danser
In the playlist I created on Imeem, there is another hit song, Earthquake, with a few prolonged percussion sequences, first starting at about 3:23. It was recorded in 1977, and then its 12-inch version became a hit in 1983.
Alfred Schnittke‘s Minnesang is close to my heart for several reasons. It is a sublime piece of music; it was composed in 1980-1981, so it is nearly the same age as me; and it was inspired by German medieval poetry, known as Minnesang. I have already written previously about one of the leading Minnesingers, Walther von der Vogelweide (c.1170-1230), in connection with the San Gimigniano frescoes. I thought, however, I’d point to several websites about him that may be interesting to any German or German-speaking/reading readers and visitors.
To start off, there is what seems to be a well-written page on German Wikipedia with a comprehensive list of links to some of the places I am about to point you to. Freie Universität Berlin offers a collection of online resources, including bibliographies and theses. Among the latter, these two look like the ones to start with: a referat by Stephan M. Rother that looks at the life and work of von der Vogelweide who, as quite a few of his kind, changed his patrons several times; and a work by Jens Hildebrand about von der Vogelweide and the society of his time (Walther von der Vogelweide und die Gesellschaft seiner Zeit). I haven’t yet read either work myself, so I’ll share my impressions once I did, but if you’re already familiar with any of these works, please feel free to let us know your thoughts.
Next, if you are feeling adventurous and want to try your hand, eyes and mind at medieval palaeography, then here is the place to practise: Projekt Gutenberg.de has a few images of a rather neat medieval hand. You can open a poem’s text in a new browser window and see how far you can get. See also if you can unfathom some of the medeival shorthand rules (one of the tips: when you see a line above a vowel, this means that the vowel is followed by ‘n’). If palaeography sounds like a tough exercise, then the same resource has got a collection of von der Vogelweide poetry, edited by Richard Zoozmann. And, of course, there is the poet’s biography, with a well-known image of his.
Speaking of von der Vogelweide’s iconography: his best-known miniature portrait is filed in the Codex Manesse (dated by 1300), and the wonderful thing is that you can consult the full Codex online. It is an amazing collection of miniature images of many a German historical figure, and I will definitely take time in another post to walk you through some of the personalities. On the same German Wikipedia page I mentioned above there is a photo of his tomb, and on Flickr one of the visitors to Bolzano (Bozen) photographed the monument to Walther.
Bibliotheca Augustana offers a biography and a full list of works (although not all are actually on the site). You may want to look at Mädchenlieder (The Girls’ Songs, composed about 1205) that include one of von der Vogelweide’s best-known poems, Under der linden (Under the linden tree).
The English-speaking readers and history and literature lovers are still welcome to consult Graeme Dunphy’s translations of von der Vogelweide’s poetry, as well as the English Wikipedia page. I shall see if I can bring you some more English translations of the works by one of the best medieval German poets (certainly one of the most prolific). What is interesting – and if you read the poems that Dunphy translated this will be very obvious – is that von der Vogelweide lived quite literally from pen to mouth, having changed several patrons in his lifetime. His love poetry, on the other hand, carries a spell of romantic gloom, yet quite popular at the time. The ideal of courteous, knightly love for the Belle Dame would often not permit a hero to rest blissfully by the side of his beloved lady. Either he’d be required to leave her behind and join the Crusade, or else the perspective of ruining her status (as well as of being discovered and mutilated (at the very least) by her husband or relatives) would force him to keep a distance. The latter found its manifestation in the fact that these knight-poets would only compose a song; the performance fell on the shoulders of their minstrels.
Back to Schnittke: Walther von der Vogelweide wouldn’t be the only source of inspiration to this composer. There could be – and probably were – at least another 11 medieval German poets who form the group of 12 leading Minnesingers. Of the vast repertoire of the German Minnesang poetry Schnittke had taken some 20 songs, transforming the legacy of medieval culture into his own distinct work for 52 voices. To read more about the genre (which had its equivalents in Northern and Southern France), head to Minnesang Wiki. If you choose to listen to Schnittke’s canon (which is 15 mins. long), make sure to bear until the extract at 10:40-11:00 mins: for me, this is the most sublime moment in the entire work. And if you are searching for this work on a CD, this may be the place to go: Alfred Schnittke: Minnesang; Choir Concerto.
As if to once again ascertain the genius of Leonardo da Vinci, here is one of his Prophecies:
Of the selling of Paradise: “A countless multitude will sell publicly and without hindrance things of the very greatest value, without licence from the Lord of these things, which were never theirs nor in their power; and human justice will take no account of this“.
Have I not heard this elsewhere? Ah yes! “You buy a piece of Paradise, you buy a piece of me!” Phil Collins would sing in the 1980s Genesis song “Jesus He Knows Me“. Conclusion? Leonardo was right, alas; while Genesis were more insightful than they probably thought!
I do love strolling little known streets and taking ad hoc trips to unknown places. Living close to what they call “transport links” makes a huge difference, as well. When you only need to walk 3 min. to the place where there will be trams, buses, taxis and even trains you do feel like you’re almost obliged to travel. All the better for me, as you may guess.
So, on Saturday I was waiting for a home delivery, which was not delivered due to the store’s not supplying my full address. With the bookcase assembly then being postponed, I wandered around the flat for a short time, before deciding to go to Altrincham.
I’ve never been to Altrincham before – except for a short visit in 2005. I was a BBC’s People’s War story gatherer, and on that day we were meeting the war veterans during the annual Flower Show at Tatton Park. A free bus service operated between Altrincham and Tatton Park, so I took a tram from St Peter’s Square. I had a glimpse at Altrincham’s buildings while on the bus, but it took me three years to get to walk in the town’s streets.
On Saturday afternoon the town looked and felt deserted. I recalled a visit to the old Russian city of Vladimir: I went with a group of friends during the weekend, and although the trains were fairly busy, the city was silent and calm. Altrincham was very much the same, except for its silence was almost magical. I also remembered a short stay at the Shap Wells Hotel, “ideally situated to explore the English Lakes, Yorkshire Dales, North Pennines and the Scottish Borders”. The silence was nearly deafening for a convinced city dweller. Likewise, in Altrincham I caught myself on a thought that I could probably stay in one of its houses over a weekend, but I would hardly be able to live there.
While they commonly say that Russia (or Moscow, for that matter) is a place of extremes, it isn’t quite true where parks are concerned. Like London, Moscow boasts many a leafy public garden, park, and even Botanical Gardens – if you follow this link to Moscow.info page, you’ll find out that there are 5 such Gardens in Moscow alone. From where I lived in Moscow it would take me to travel literally to the other end of the city to visit the main Botanical Garden – and indeed, it would take more time than even to travel from Manchester to Tatton Park (assuming that you live in the city centre). I suppose what makes the difference (or what makes me feel the difference) is that in Moscow (or London) I could experience the leafy shade, smell flowers and marvel at the many shapes and colours of the trees without leaving the city, whereas in Manchester I have to hop on a tram or bus to go to what is effectively another town. In case with Altrincham, the town is already in another county (Cheshire). So, as far as parks and gardens are concerned, capital cities seem to be the places that blend the urban lifestyle with suburban setting. Perhaps for me, if Manchester wanted to do something to its city, it would be parks and gardens rather than a casino.
My wandering around Altrincham was fairly short, although I successfully added a few streetlights for my growing collection. You can see all the photos I took on the day in Altrincham Flickr photoset. Then I thought it would be a shame to leave such a lovely town without dining there. In the street where I walked there were a few Far Eastern eateries, but it’s becoming more and more of a commonplace to go to such places, so I wanted something different. Noticing an invitingly looking passage to Kings Court was a good start. Don’t get me wrong now, to go to an Italian restaurant is also a commonplace, since too many people appear to like Italian cuisine. But I couldn’t resist walking into The Sopranos. I was sat at exactly the table you see in the picture on the left, and I had a delicious fried goat cheese for starter, and then a breast of duck in cherry sauce, with a glass of wonderful full-bodied Chianti.
And then Sopranos became the first ever place in my life where I had two desserts. At the end of the meal I had a single espresso and a tiramisu… and this was the best tiramisu on my memory! I was trying in vain to prolong the pleasure, but it was next to impossible, thus eventually I had to double it, by ordering another portion of dessert.
There was something lovely about being called “signora”, and talking to Giorgio the chef about his long walk in Tatton Park, and then listening to the chef’s humming to himself, and then to the Italian music. Just as I was leaving, “Solo Tu” by Matia Bazar came on, which I was able to recognise because I have already seen the embedded clip on YouTube. A weekend trip to Altrincham became an unforgettable tree-gazing, tiramisu-tasting, Italian-feeling affair – something I would certainly love to relive one day.
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