Thursday, February 14, 2013

The Duchampian pointlessness of Bryan Ferry's new album

[Note the Andrew Sullivan-esque post title]

Okay, so Bryan (or Brian, as the one person you know in your office who knows about Roxy Music thinks it's spelled) Ferry has a new album out that takes old Bryan Ferry/Roxy Music songs and has them arranged like jazz age recordings; instrumental, no less.  His last album, Olympia, was my fave BF item since Bete Noire way back in '87: actual songs, he sounded awake/alive and the whole thing just felt like a walk through a fat 1980's issue of Vanity Fair (this is a good thing).  So, to follow that with this is both/either a.) a dada-esque prank, bordering on KLF-style "hey, let's set a stack of money ON FIRE!" shenanigans, and/or b.) so relentlessly cucumber-sandwiches-and-Pimm's cup that it misses me completely.  I have to admire the sheer waste, though.

[a translation of this post is available for a nominal sum].

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