song of the day – “This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody)” (from STOP MAKING SENSE) | TALKING HEADS | 1984.

On Wednesday, April 26, 2017, I was very saddened to learn of the passing of one of my all-time favorite film directors (and one of the most-celebrated), Jonathan Demme.  He died of complications from esophageal cancer and heart disease, and just turned 73 in late February.

When folks think of Jonathan Demme’s filmography, one of the first movies to come to mind, naturally, would be the brilliant 1991 horror-thriller, THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, which, to this day, is one of only three films ever to win Academy Awards in all five major categories – Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay (for Ted Tally), Best Actress (for Jodie Foster), and Best Actor (for Anthony Hopkins).

Another of the films Jonathan directed that most folks will instantly think of is his heartbreakingly incredible 1993 film, PHILADELPHIA.  That film won Academy Awards for actor Tom Hanks and for Bruce Springsteen’s song, “Streets Of Philadelphia.” 

From the “Streets Of Philadelphia” music video.

For that video (co-directed with Jonathan’s nephew, wonderful Ted Demme, who passed away in 2002), and unlike most music videos, they had Bruce sing the lyrics live instead of lip-syncing to the song in the video.  And it paid off.  Not only did “Streets Of Philadelphia” receive the Academy Award for Best Original Song, it also won the Golden Globe for Best Original Song, four Grammy Awards (Song Of The Year, Best Rock Song, Best Male Rock Performance and Best Song Written For A Motion Picture), and an MTV Video Music Award for Best Video From A Film.  And, it gave Bruce his last big hit, reaching No. 1 in at least eight countries, and the Top 10 in another eight, including here in America.

As great as THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS and PHILADELPHIA are, those aren’t the movies I instantly think of when I think of Jonathan Demme.  The first movies I think of (which he directed) are the incredibly fun SOMETHING WILD from 1986, 1987’s genius SWIMMING TO CAMBODIA with the late, great Spaulding Gray, the hilarious MARRIED TO THE MOB from 1988, Robyn Hitchcock’s sensational 1998 concert film, STOREFRONT HITCHCOCK, and most of all, the film I have long considered as THE BEST concert film of my generation, 1984’s STOP MAKING SENSE with Talking Heads and Tom Tom Club.

In a Facebook post on the day Jonathan passed away, Robyn Hitchcock reminisced:  “I last saw Jonathan Demme four years ago today (April 26).  Had no idea till this morning that it would be for the last time.  Here we are in New York in 1996 where he filmed me in concert in a shop window ‘Storefront Hitchcock’. 

“Jonathan was a born movie-maker: he loved people and he loved filming them.  Fictional or actual, he caught so many lives and glimpses of lives and framed them for others to enjoy.  Jonathan was a true keeper of souls, and now we must celebrate his.  He did a lot for me, too – thank you, JD.  ‘Are you ready for your close-up?’”

That Wednesday night, in a journal entry on David Byrne’s website, davidbyrne.com, he shared a letter which he apparently worked on for hours following the news of the passing of Jonathan Demme.  In the letter, David wrote, “One could sense his love of ordinary people.  That love surfaces and is manifest over and over throughout his career.  Jonathan was also a huge music fan – that’s obvious in his films too – many of which are jam-packed with songs by the often obscure artists he loved.  He’d find ways to slip a reggae artist’s song or a Haitian recording into a narrative film in ways that were often joyous and unexpected.

“Jonathan’s skill was to see the show almost as a theatrical ensemble piece, in which the characters and their quirks would be introduced to the audience, and you’d get to know the band as people, each with their distinct personalities.  They became your friends, in a sense.”

Jonathan Demme and David Byrne.

 

Jonathan’s and David’s creative minds complimented each other.  In David’s letter, he mentions how Jonathan helped him while he was developing the 1986 Talking Heads film, TRUE STORIES, how he wrote a song for SOMETHING WILD (“Loco de Amor,” performed with legendary Cuban-born Salsa vocalist, the late Celia Cruz), and how he scored MARRIED TO THE MOB. 

STOP MAKING SENSE, to me, is Jonathan Demme’s masterpiece in film.  It’s just as much a masterpiece for David Byrne and Talking Heads as well.  In fact, it’s both names that grace the 1984 movie poster for STOP MAKING SENSE, and rightfully so.

In researching for this blog post, one of the coolest things I read was that, long before crowd-funding for films and albums became commonplace, Talking Heads (then at the peak of their career) raised the $1.2 million dollars themselves so the film could be made.  Pretty damn cool.

In a 1984 review for the concert film, the late, great film critic, Roger Ebert, hailed the film and then some: “The overwhelming impression throughout STOP MAKING SENSE is of enormous energy, of life being lived at a joyous high…  It’s a live show with elements of METROPOLIS [referring to Fritz Lang’s 1927 Sci-Fi film marvel]

“…But the film’s peak moments come through Byrne’s simple physical presence.  He jogs in place with his sidemen; he runs around the stage; he seems so happy to be alive and making music…  He serves as a reminder of how sour and weary and strung-out many rock bands have become…”

A publicity shot for STOP MAKING SENSE…

STOP MAKING SENSE has many memorable moments (well, the whole thing is memorable), but one that comes to mind is that “big suit” David Byrne sports in the film.  The suit increases in size throughout the course of the film, and when they perform “Girlfriend Is Better,” the suit is so ridiculously (and brilliantly) large.  On a DVD interview for the film, David Byrne explains what the “big suit” represents:  “I wanted my head to appear smaller and the easiest way to do that was to make my body bigger, because music is very physical and often the body understands it before the head.”  I love that quote; it’s so true.

David Byrne sporting the “big suit” in “Girlfriend Is Better.”

The film version of STOP MAKING SENSE was released on April 24, 1984, months in advance of the soundtrack album, which, in its original LP form, had just nine songs, and some of them edited or different mixes than what appeared on the cassettes or CDs.  Despite the soundtrack only having nine of the film’s songs, the soundtrack spent more than two years on the BILLBOARD Album chart, and was certified Double-Platinum 10 years after its release, selling more than two million copies in the U.S. alone.

In 1999, when the film celebrated its 15th Anniversary with a theatrical re-release, Sire and Warner Bros. restored the songs in the film to include all 15 songs by Talking Heads, and “Genius Of Love” by Tom Tom Club. 

Talking Heads bandmates, Tom Tom Club co-founders and longtime husband and wife team Tina Weymouth and Chris Frantz remembered the T-Heads liking Jonathan “from the get go, discovering the contagion of his unique joie de vivre [exuberance] that matched his massive creative talent.  He didn’t so much work for us as completely with us.  Since Talking Heads decided to pay for the film ourselves, we had the creative freedom to do it our way.  Jonathan was the perfect catalyst on our team to make that happen…  We will remain forever grateful for what he achieved with STOP MAKING SENSE.  We love him still and we always will.”

From “This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody).”

As for my own little tribute to Jonathan Demme, I honestly could have chosen any song from STOP MAKING SENSE, but the only song I would ever choose is the forever beautiful “This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody)” (originally from their 1983 breakthrough album, SPEAKING IN TONGUES).  Or, as THE NEW YORKER once described it, “a love song only in spite of itself (it dispenses about as much hope as Joy Division’s ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’).”  Irregardless, “This Must Be The Place” is one of the most amazing songs (the live STOP MAKING SENSE version especially) that I’ve ever heard.  And I’ve heard a few.

From the iconic dance with the lamp in “This Must Be The Place.”

You’re already missed, but I’m so grateful for the films and memories you left us.  R.I.P. Jonathan, and many, many thanks…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E9aN93S8nl8

Jonathan Demme, 1984.

song of the day – “The Host Of Seraphim” | DEAD CAN DANCE | 1988.

“…I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and His train filled the Hekhal [sanctuary].  Above him stood the Seraphim; each had six wings; with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew.”  The seraphim cry continually to each other, “Holy, holy, holy, is YHWH of hosts: the whole earth is full of His glory.” (Isaiah 6:1–3; Hebrew Bible)

In the 80s music bible, “The Host Of Seraphim” is a 1988 treasure that belongs to the brilliant and phenomenal Ethereal / Dark Wave band and then some, Dead Can Dance. 

Dead Can Dance was formed in Melbourne, Australia in August 1981, led by the then-couple Lisa Gerrard (vocalist) and Brendan Perry (vocals and guitar).  The following year, they moved to London and signed on with one of my all-time favorite record labels, 4AD.  (Away from DCD, Lisa Gerrard has also scored several films, and picked up an Academy Award Nomination and a Golden Globe Award for co-scoring – with Hans Zimmer – the 2000 Russell Crowe film, GLADIATOR.)

Their first album, a self-titled effort, was released in 1984, and early on were described as “as Goth as it gets,” though they dismissed that label.  I would also dismiss that label, mainly because they are in a class all by themselves. 

By June 1990, Dead Can Dance had already released five albums and an EP, all of which were not readily available in the U.S. until the early 90s, which is when I discovered them for the first time.

It was the Spring of 1994, I was 27 years old and had just moved to Portland, Maine in late January of that year.  I was still making friends and one of my new friends suggested that I see a film unlike any other – it was a concept film called BARAKA.

Back then, there was this small, independent art-house theater simply called The Movies.  It was in the heart of Portland’s famed Old Port section of town, and had been around for many years.  BARAKA was actually released in September 1992, but for some reason, The Movies didn’t get it until early 1994.

For those who have not yet seen BARAKA, some are quick to call it a documentary, but there’s no narration or voice-overs in it, and I’ve always considered it to be more of a concept film for that reason.  BARAKA, kinda like Dead Can Dance, is in a class all by itself.  BARAKA was filmed in 24 countries on six continents around the globe, photographed in then-groundbreaking 70mm film, and the tagline for the film is “A world beyond words.” 

BARAKA is literally breathtaking to watch.  The late, great film critic of the CHICAGO SUN-TIMES, Roger Ebert, put BARAKA in his “Great Movies” list, writing, “If man sends another Voyager to the distant stars and it can carry only one film on board, that film might be BARAKA.”  When the film was reworked for a Blu-Ray release in 2008, Roger Ebert described it as “the finest video disc I have ever viewed or ever imagined.”  High praise indeed.

Where there is music in the film, most of the score is by Michael Sterns, who is best-known for his work with Ambient and Space music.  He released over 20 solo albums between 1979 and 2001.  During a seven-minute span in BARAKA, there was a song that played over multiple scenes of severe poverty, from homelessness to young prostitution to hundreds of women and children sifting through acres of garbage in hopes of finding food.  You can find the link to this video at the end of the blog post.

As much as BARAKA is breathtaking with its global beauty, the scenes like the ones mentioned above are equally heartbreaking.  The filmmakers couldn’t have picked a better song for that sequence of the film.

Not long after I saw BARAKA in the theater, I stopped by a record store in the same building as the movie theater (at the time, I lived in the Old Port section of Portland, so I was in the area constantly).  The name of the record store was Bad Habits.  The owners of the store would later run the amazing Alternative Portland nightclub, Zootz (both of which sadly disappeared from Portland’s cultural landscape many years ago). 

I was in the store perusing one day, and one of the owners, George, let me take a promotional sampler by Dead Can Dance, of which I had heard a couple of their most recent songs (from 1993’s INTO THE LABYRINTH album, most likely).  Even though I wasn’t that familiar with the band, I, of course, didn’t turn down the free sampler. 

When I got back to my apartment, I played the CD and was excited to learn that the song I heard in BARAKA was by Dead Can Dance, and it was called “The Host Of Seraphim.”  I always thought the name Dead Can Dance was pretty cool, and in the years ahead, especially after I started STUCK IN THE 80s (on WMPG community radio) in 1996, I learned a lot more about Dead Can Dance, and was quite impressed at their catalog, and with the fact something like that came out of the 80s. 

As much as I love Pop acts like Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, Duran Duran, Culture Club, Huey Lewis and Michael Jackson, the 80s weren’t just about them.  Dead Can Dance is absolute and substantial proof of that.

“The Host Of Seraphim” is the opening song from THE SERPENT’S EGG, the fourth studio album by Dead Can Dance, released a week before Halloween in 1988.  Of the album’s interesting title, Brendan Perry once said, “In a lot of aerial photographs of the Earth, if you look upon it as a giant organism – a macrocosmos – you can see that the nature of the life force, water, travels in a serpentine way.”  It’s very true.

In addition to its use in BARAKA, “The Host Of Seraphim” has been used in film and television a number of times, including 2002’s RIPLEY’S GAME, 2006’s HOME OF THE BRAVE, the trailer for 2003’s TERMINATOR 3: RISE OF THE MACHINES, 2010’s LEGENDS OF THE GUARDIANS: THE OWLS OF GA’HOOLE, the third-season finale of this year’s HOW TO GET AWAY WITH MURDER, and in the last ten minutes of the 2007 film, THE MIST, based on the 1980 book of the same name by Maine’s own Stephen King.

Lisa Gerrard and Brendan Perry, from the 1994 TOWARD THE WITHIN live DVD.

Since they are so different than anything else I have loved in music for the past (nearly) 40 years, I had hoped to see Dead Can Dance perform live.  Their last album was in 2012 (ANASTASIS; Greek for “resurrection”), their first album in 16 years.  At the very least, I do have their TOWARD THE WITHIN live DVD from 1994, and they are sensational and then some. 

For the ANASTASIS album, Lisa Gerrard did a 2012 interview with PITCHFORK, and her responses to the questions were as amazing as Dead Can Dance’s music.  One of the questions PITCHFORK asked was, “There seems to have always been as much emphasis on the power of space or ambience in your music, is that something that emerges naturally?” 

Lisa Gerrard replied, “I’d call that blind belief.  It’s almost like you’re standing on something that’s much more powerful than you.  It’s like a frequency that comes up through the ground, like sticking your finger into an electrical socket.  There are so many layers to who we are as human beings outside of this terrible, grey shadow of materiality.  I think the message that’s always been there in Dead Can Dance is, ‘Come on, wake up.  Wake up, visceral.  Wake up, abstract.  Wake up, practical.  Wake up, mind.  Wake up, soul.  This is who you are.  This is where you’re going.  This is the journey.  Here we are.  This is the campfire.  The campfire is music’.”

One depiction of what a seraphim looks like.

If you hadn’t already been familiar with meaning of the word “seraphim,” it’s another word for an angelic being, with six wings, and is part of the highest of orders of the celestial hierarchy, and (like other angelic beings, I suppose) it’s associated with light, ardor [enthusiasm or passion], and purity. 

The music that Dead Can Dance has brought to my life for many years is something I would consider of an angelic nature.  And, if not angelic, well, it’s not far off.  Their music is among the best I’ve ever heard.  And “The Host Of Seraphim” is truly one of THE most extraordinary and heartbreaking pieces of music I’ll treasure forever.

In a 2013 retrospective review in AllMusic, “The Host Of Seraphim” was hailed as “so jaw-droppingly good that almost the only reaction is sheer awe.”  I couldn’t agree more.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGfl_aYu8Hc

song of the day – “Laughing” | R.E.M. | 1983.

I have been under the weather today, which sucks because it’s a Saturday and I had a lot to do, but with a kind suggestion from my dear and über-talented friend, Hope, I got some needed rest before doing anything else.  One of the things I needed to do today was laundry, and while switching back and forth between loads of colors and whites, I watched a movie called SEEKING A FRIEND FOR THE END OF THE WORLD, starring Steve Carell and Keira Knightley. 

If you haven’t heard of SEEKING A FRIEND FOR THE END OF THE WORLD, that’s prolly because it was in theaters for just 2 weeks.  It was released on July 18, 2012, the 70th birthday of the legendary Roger Ebert, who gave it a positive review and said of the film, “The best parts of this sweet film involve the middle stretches, when time, however limited, reaches ahead, and the characters do what they can to prevail in the face of calamity.  How can I complain that they don’t entirely succeed?  Isn’t the dilemma of the plot the essential dilemma of life?”

Roger Ebert sadly passed away that following April (2013) and, like many, many films he critiqued over the years, he was right about this one.  Those who know me know of my odd affection for apocalyptic-related films, not that I would ever want any of it to actually happen.  This film was released on Focus Features, which also released my favorite film of all time, 2004’s ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND with Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet, and which won a much-deserved Academy Award for brilliant screenwriter Charlie Kaufman.

I just bought this used DVD copy of SEEKING A FRIEND FOR THE END OF THE WORLD, because I was curious about it, not thinking I would really, really dig it.  Some of my favorite actors are in it, like Martin Sheen, the always funny Patton Oswalt, and the wonderful Connie Britton.  The soundtrack was excellent, too, with some 80s gems from INXS and Wang Chung, and a song I have a huge soft spot for from 1968 – Herb Alpert’s “This Guy’s In Love With You.”

Now, those who also know me know I would try and correlate SEEKING A FRIEND FOR THE END OF THE WORLD with R.E.M.’s 1987 gem, “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine),” and use that as my “song of the day,” and it would be a fair bet I would do something like that.  Instead, and in a roundabout way, I’m going with one of my all-time favorite R.E.M. songs – “Laughing,” from their 1983 full-length debut studio album, MURMUR. 

I can’t exactly remember when “Laughing” became a part of my life.  1986’s LIFE’S RICH PAGEANT is my favorite R.E.M. album of the 80s, and being a Top 40 music fan for several years in my youth, I didn’t start getting into R.E.M. and their music until DOCUMENT came out, and “The One I Love” hit the Top 10 of the BILLBOARD Hot 100.  After that, perhaps with a big help from Michael, one of my best and oldest friends, I ended up being well-versed in all things R.E.M. soon enough, and maybe that’s how “Laughing” and I got to know each other.

“Laughing” is a simple song, with simple lyrics and a simple melody.  Sometimes that’s all you need to love a song.  Plus, I love laughing.  And I love “Laughing.”  And R.E.M.  And the very underrated, beautiful and laughingly lovely SEEKING A FRIEND FOR THE END OF THE WORLD…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jz7u-9ZHOgE