Into the Slipstream: Foxx’s Angels
Glory! Behold the dreams of a young man who wished for girlfriend as perfect as these fine women. That’s right, babies. This edition of Into the Slipstream is replete with the daydreams of youth, fawning over beautiful minds and lovely creatures that elevate the art of being a woman and an artist.
The year was 1985. I had just discovered Kate Bush after spotting Hounds of Love in a record bin at the local Joe Nardone’s Gallery of Sound, situated next to the Orange Julius and the Chess King. I had no idea who she was but damn that beautiful woman on the cover made me ask the clerk what this was all about and she pointed out that Kate Bush had a great melodic voice and her songs were written like classical novels. Whoa. Foxx could dig.
Ripping the plastic off the cover and lowering the hammer of the needle on my Sears combo music system, I was taken into a world of spectacular highs and the depression of lost lovers, a woman’s plight in life and the reclamation of the self through art. Kate, flipping, Bush. “Hounds of Love” is her masterpiece; and, although “Running up that Hill (A Deal With God)” is better known, “Cloudbusting” is genius. Her voice and the orchestration pull back the veil of pop as we look into her inner sanctum and feel warm within the womb of her songwriting.
Kate Bush also cooks a mean pot of vegetarian stew, but alas, Foxx wasn’t ready to stop eating meat just yet. She’s a good egg, our Kate.
Is Debbie Harry really 70
years old? How the hell did that happen? I’m gonna have to double down on the rye for this one, excuse me for a minute.
(This break brought to you by Steve Foxx reaching into the ice box for a glass for of large cubes. Not shaved, not crushed, but one or two large cubes of ice to cool down the rye. Look for bottled in Bond stuff he says, it makes life that much easier and enjoyable.)
Ah the pause that refreshes.
DEBBIE HARRY IS 70 YEARS OLD! Debbie Harry is 70. Wow. Well children, I guess survival means you get older. That’s the name of the game. But hell who wouldn’t date Debbie Harry right now? If you raised your hand, politely move on to the next page, poindexter, because Debbie Harry is thee reason every person between the ages of 75 and 20 has lost their virginity. It doesn’t matter what your sexual orientation is, you have Debbie Harry to thank.
You can push an entire catalog of songs into your earholes, from Blondie to solo material, but for my buck I’d listen to ‘X Offender’ over and over and over again. Just watch how Debbie is not only a strong front woman for Blondie but how she is your best girlfriend who taught you how to smoke cigarettes, drink plastic cups of beer at CBGB’s and do hot and heavy things in the back of her Chrysler.
She’s a smoking hot, ridiculously talented, take no guff, drink espresso ’til 5 am and smoke packs upon packs of Lucky Strike unfiltered cigarettes until our throats are sore-kinda girl.
Man, I don’t want to end this edition of Into the Slipstream on a bummer note, but death sucks and premature death sucks even worse, because you lose someone cool without getting to fully experience what 7 or 8 decades of art they could have thrown at you.
She entered the world Marianne Joan Elliott-Said, and left us at 53 as Poly Styrene. Maybe the best true punk rock front woman with X-Ray Spex, she pushed the boundaries of what it meant to be a punk; a feminist and a damn fine person, she broke both racial and gender barriers with the power of her words and her voice.
Poly flew in the face of convention, getting braces and wearing brightly colored outfits, shunning the black leather of the British punk scene that she described as cliche and self serving. She managed the band and created a raucous and raw style of punk that questioned gender role and the absolute authority of anything without losing melody or danceability on any track.
Though she died of cancer to fully embrace what the second half of her life could have been she left an indelible mark on any one of us who still want to push the establishment to the edge. Poly Styrene was a gorgeous, smart and tough chick. The kind that you hang out at your college radio station with and have long meaningful conversations about the state of our fucked up world. She was a blast.
Go find some women in music and turn em up loud.
Until next time, children.
