votw ii.20: Move To Albuquerque

Inside you, the time moves and she don’t fade. The ghost in you, she don’t fade…

I’m baaack! Whassup, whassup, Phils and Lils of the World Wide Webs. Hope you are all doing extra-hoity/toity on this, the day of your grandmother’s wedding.

It seems like forever since I last swam in the bloggy stream, nostrils full of wet words, eyes burning from anonymous comments and skin rashin’ from the unhealthy “outside” sun. It’s been some two weeks since my last Video of the Fortnight, but I’ve now returned from/to/in whence I came.

I just watched 2001: A Space Odyssey for the first time, and if you’re not hip on 1968, then it can be summarized as a throwaway Saturday night sci-fier about monoliths and classical music. Stanley Kubrick was behind this pretty ode to the Space Race, but I prefer to remember him as the proto-Lucas behind Alex the Wronged Rapist or Strangelove the Reformed Nazi. He also managed to make Nicole Kidman and Tom Cruise an icky affair. Genius.

I watched 2001 on my newly-anointed high-definition television, or HDTV. If you haven’t made the transition from Standard to Hi-Def yet, then you really ought to. Sure, the economy is in the john and pocketbooks aren’t what they were during the days of Internet 1.0, but it’s a sound investment if you enjoy shiny things. (Aye, progressive-scan images make Discovery and History Channel fodder about Holy Grails and Creation that much more entertaining.) If you have the cash money for 10.1 surround sound, then, shoot, give me your 8.1 setup — Ah needs speakers, son. I watched 1988’s Akira in HD the other day, and boy, isn’t that just the sweetest way to revisit a classic anime about Canada and old children with Matrix powers. 720p Japanese blood is quite eye-candylicious, let me tell ya.

Yesterday, I wrote this blog, and today, I went to the Ladytron concert. Oh, wait — flip it and reverse it. See, the concert was scheduled for tonight, but as I routinely perused the MySpace Bulletin yesterday evening, how shocked was I to discover that MyMySpace friend, Los Lady Trons, was casually announcing that the concert was going ahead as planned…yesterday. Suffice it to say, I went on Scramble Alert, racing to the venue and paying for the tickets a second time since my friend, who was on-duty at his fire station, had our originally-purchased stubs at home and couldn’t make it since we all thought we would be reveling with Miami’s seediest crowd tonight. In spite of the hiccups, both Datarock and Ladytron brought the fire, and what a sweltering conflagration it was.

Speaking of hot hot hot, The Concert For The Cure — er, The Cure concert — goes down in South Florida tomorra, and with an expected 35-song setlist and over three hours of dopey moping, it should be a crackerjack gut-busher of hair and lipstick. Cannot wait to sway to “A Forest” for the traditional 18 minutes.
Suddenly I stop But I know it’s too late I‘m lost in a forest All alone The girl was never there It’s always the same I‘m running towards nothing Again and again and again and again and again

Anyway, beyond advising you that the switch to digital television occurs on February 17, 2009 (be wary, antenna fundamentalists!), and retelling you about my venue-hopping (“Check out the glowing freaks”), I’ve not much more to say, which is why I dedicate this blog to the ladies. Beautiful spitfires of the crowd, I give you a-ha’s “Move To Memphis.”

I truly believe that this one overwhelms all other videos in terms of popularity. Why? It is my view that the female:male ratio of a-ha fans is something like 82:1, and, truly, each of those 82 gals adore seeing leathery Morten’s gaptooth come-hither grin in all of its sepia glory — but bare-chested Mags and Paul? That’s a no-no and you know it.

As you might expect, I have never been blown away by this music video. In fact, I’m somewhat alienated by it. No, it’s not like I feel insecure/envious about the millions of theoretical women collectively sighing at the first sight of Morten in this video in the early ’90s (too busy pawing at April O’Neil, I was), nor am I envious/insecure about Morten’s shimmering, flowing locks of unadulterated manbeast mane — mostly, it’s the odd specimens that use the amniotic plastic sheets as perverse, prenatal sex toys that really put salt in my gas tank. This one dudette goes from she to he (and possibly from he to she again), distracting us from watching The A-Has rock out during the synthie bridge, as well as keeping us from taking in the full effect of that tawdry model with her plump lips of chastity and her creamy eyes of sin. You know what I’m talking about.

So with much ado about great nothing, here is the single version of “Move To Memphis” (really, the only version) in a video that is so early 1990s, you can almost hear a sober Paula Abdul in the background. He shoots, he scores!

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~ by Alfredeus on June 12, 2008.

3 Responses to “votw ii.20: Move To Albuquerque”

  1. 2001? awesome movie, i’d say. though the beginning drags a little.
    also, nineties nickelodeon? stop mentioning it, i spent a good hour on youtube watching kablam! clips thanks to you. haha. enjoy the cure, you lucky, lucky person.

  2. Why Albuquerque?

    Ah. I haven’t heard “Move To Albuquerque” in ages. File backup!

    Hint, hint.

    Nudge nudge.

  3. *POKE*

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