FAQ
Hey—this FAQ isn't really about the Pet Shop Boys! It's mostly about you and your website! Where's a Pet Shop Boys FAQ?
A very good PSB FAQ can be found at http://www.xs4all.nl/~ramdyne/psb/faq/.
Who's the girl in the "Domino Dancing" video, and what can you tell me about her?
This
is probably the single most frequently asked question that I receive—asked
at least a dozen times over the past few years—so I figured it should go
near the top of the list.
The girl in the "Domino Dancing" video is named Donna Bottman. I understand that she was an aspiring actress and model. I'm afraid I know very little else for sure about her, although there are some indications that she may have established a subsequent career in the hotel/tourism industry in Puerto Rico—which, not so incidentally, is where the video was shot.
And, in case you're interested, the two young men who vie for her attention in the video are portrayed by David Boira and Adalberto Martinez.
Why is your domain name "geowayne"?
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My domain name "geowayne" is a combination of my partner's name and my own: George and Wayne. We've been together 28 years now—yes, even longer than there has been a "Pet Shop Boys"—and I'm still hopelessly in love with him. George—that's him with his hand on my shoulder—likes the Pet Shop Boys, too. He's just not nearly as fanatical about it as I am. His favorite music falls in the classical realm, with a special fondness for Johann Sebastian Bach. By the way, this photo (taken in August 2007 at the wedding of some good friends of ours by another friend, professional photographer Mark Gebhardt) is perhaps my all-time favorite of us together. |
That was one of two Codie award-winners that I designed during the 15 years I was with the late, much-lamented organization known as MECC—the Minnesota Educational Computing Consortium (later Corporation). The second was Oregon Trail II, cited as the Best Adventure/Role Playing Software of 1996. And that one was even a huge best-seller. No, I'm not rich. Companies reap the profits—not the employees. But I've got nothing to complain about: it was a great company, I loved the work, and the pay was decent. And I'm proud of having helped create a couple of the educational software industry's all-time finest programs, if I do say so myself (although I'm hardly alone in that opinion). What more can you ask for? Had enough of this particular tangent? Yes, I thought so. |
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"Geowayne"
is also a subtle nod to one of my proudest professional achievements, in which
a software program that I designed, World GeoGraph, won the Critic's Choice
Award as Best Educational Program at the 1989 Software Publishers Association
Awards (aka the "Codies," the software industry's Oscars). So, you have a Ph.D. Where from and in what subject?
My Ph.D. is from the University of Minnesota in American Studies, an interdisciplinary and somewhat anthropological field that focuses on the history, literature, and culture of the United States. (And, no, the "literature and culture of the United States" is not a contradiction in terms.)
My doctoral dissertation was a critical biography of an obscure (and not very good) nineteenth-century American poet named Daniel Bryan. That's one of the nice things about American Studies—if I had majored in English, I would have had to focus a great writer, but since bad writers can tell you as much about their culture as great ones (and sometimes more), I could become the world's foremost authority on Daniel Bryan. I still am. When the editors of the Dictionary of Virginia Biography needed someone to write an entry for Bryan, they asked me. I was only too glad to do so. You can read my one-page entry on Bryan in Volume 2, published in 2001.
Incidentally, my B.A. and M.A. degrees are in English from the College of William & Mary in Virginia. Phi Beta Kappa, too. And in September 2008 I was honored by the University of Minnesota College of Liberal Arts by being designated one of its Alumni of Notable Achievement. Not to blow my own horn but, hey, you asked.
OK, I admit I provided a little more information than the question called for.
Do you personally know the Pet Shop Boys or have any official affiliation with them?
I have no official affiliation with them. My website is merely a hobby and "academic interest" on my part. As such, I never dreamt that I would ever actually meet them in person. But, as it turned out, I did get to meet them after roughly 13 years of being a fan. Naturally, my partner George and I attended one of the shows on their Autumn 2006 North American Fundamental tour. And thanks to my participation in their documentary A Life in Pop and the very great kindness of a certain contact, we were able to obtain backstage passes.
After
the show (and a marvelous show it was at that!), George and I went backstage and,
along with about a dozen other guests, met Neil and Chris. George took a photo
of me with Neil (unfortunately, it's a bit blurry) but I didn't get a picture
taken with Chris. Regardless, this was one of the great thrills of my life!
Neil and Chris are both extremely charming and affable in person, even after the rigors of a performance. Of the two, Neil seems the more outgoing. Chris comes across as somewhat more shy and reticent, although I'm sure he opens up a lot more among people he knows well.
I didn't get to talk to them very much—our time was very limited and we had to share them, so to speak, with the others present—but, as we chatted and drank champagne together from paper cups, I did learn the following things:
- It's absolutely true what they say about the effectiveness of
Chris's "disguise." He had been in the room for several minutes before
I recognized him standing less than twenty feet away—without his cap
and dark glasses! Chris further attested to this when he said that, while he and
Neil had been out "touristing" earlier that day, several people had
recognized Neil along the way, whereas nobody had recognized him.
- On their North American tour they were traveling via private
jet as opposed to commercial airlines. Chris noted that this seriously cut into
their profits, but that it made traveling much more tolerable, particularly during
the "war on terror."
- Neil confirmed
that Little Britain (David Walliams and Matt Lucas) had worked on a novelty single
based on Lucas's character Daffyd ("the only gay in the village"), part
of which parodies the PSB rendition of "Go West."
He also indicated that he and Chris had been involved somehow, but he wasn't entirely
clear on that point. He seemed surprised, however, when I mentioned the rumor
that it would be released as a "holiday single." On the contrary, he
said that "they're not yet sure what they're going to do with it,"
or words to that effect.
- No firm decision had been made at that time whether
"Integral" would be released
as a fourth single from Fundamental. Neil
was hoping, at the very least, that it might become a "promo dance single"
in the U.S., but even that was still uncertain. I shared with Neil my observation
that, when they played "Integral" during the concert, the audience at
first seemed largely unfamiliar with it, but by halfway through they were responding
to it as enthusiastically as they did to the old favorites. Neil agreed, saying,
"It's always that way."
- Another sidenote: As we now know, "Integral" would indeed get the promo-single treatment, although it received little if any of that "promo" in the States. Unlike "I'm with Stupid" and "Minimal," it failed to hit the U.S. dance charts.
At any rate, it was all wonderful! Thank you, Neil and Chris, for meeting with us! I'll always treasure the experience!
How did you become involved with the 2006 TV documentary Pet Shop Boys - A Life in Pop?
I tell the full story on a special page devoted to that topic.
How did you like your 15 minutes of fame?
I've been sporadically dipping my toes in the icy waters of fame since the 1980s, well before the PSB documentary and even before I started this website. I've written several published books, appeared on television (three times that I can recall—perhaps more), enjoyed a brief stint as a minor cult celebrity in the field of children's educational software, and even had a full-page photo of myself appearing opposite my interview in a magazine that I couldn't read since I'm totally illiterate in Japanese.
Of course, if you ask me, I'm not "famous" at all. At best, I may be a blister on the heel of fame. But, barring premature death, I ain't done yet. So stay tuned.
In the meantime, that Andy Warhol line about 15 minutes of fame has grown into a pretty dreadful cliché, don't you think? I mean, in the wake of so-called "reality" TV shows, a full hour's more like it. (Please note that I'm casting no aspersions on the Pet Shop Boys' "Shameless," which is a terrific song even if it does allude to that whole "15 minutes" business.)
Can you put me in touch with the Pet Shop Boys or send me their mailing and/or email address?
Unfortunately, no. I can only recommend trying to reach them through their record company or via their official website.
How long has your website been around?
I launched my website on March 16, 2001. I had been working on it off and on for nearly a year, and had shared "prototypes" of it with friends as early as January 2001, but it was only during a (thankfully brief) period of unemployment in March of that year that I finally got around to posting it online and making it generally available.
I emailed you but never heard back from you. How come?
Did you include an attachment? I always reply to emails that my site visitors send me, with one exception: I don't open unsolicited or unexpected emails with attachments. I simply delete them.
On four separate occasions over the past several years my computer has been infected with viruses spread by attachments—the two most recent instances occurring despite the fact that a scrupulously updated edition of one of the best anti-virus programs on the market is installed on my computer. What's more, some of the "new" viruses don't even require you to open the attachment; merely opening the email with the attachment is enough to infect you. Because of this, I no longer open unanticipated emails with attachments. Into the trash they go, unread. So if you emailed me with an attachment—especially if you're a "first-timer" who has never emailed me before—that's why I didn't reply to you. I apologize, but I don't know of any way around it.
On a few occasions I try to respond to an email someone has sent me, but my reply simply bounces back. I have no idea why. So that's one other possibility; again, I'm not sure of any way around it.
In the United States. Lived here all my life, in three different states. That's as specific as I want to be.
Do you sell Pet Shop Boys CDs or other merchandise?
No. I have some links to Amazon.com scattered about my website, through which interested parties can buy PSB albums online, but it doesn't earn me much money. During the first year of my site, it had made me only about forty cents. But sales picked up a bit during the second year. I'm now pleased to report that, during the past few years, I've earned a princely total sum of between twenty and thirty dollars in Amazon.com credit! I mean, it ain't much, but it's been enough to pay for a couple of DVDs. Thanks!
Where can I find a good PSB discography?
An astounding (and I mean it!) PSB discography is located at http://www.psb-discography.com/.
Why don't you have lyrics to PSB songs on your website?
Two reasons: (1) they're readily available elsewhere, most notably at the official Pet Shop Boys website, and (2) it's technically a form of copyright violation. I certainly don't pass any moral judgments on anyone else who does it, but it's just something that I personally don't want to do. Besides, I know of at least one other fansite webmaster who was contacted by lawyers demanding that he remove the lyrics he had posted. Needless to say, he did. And, just as needless to say, I don't want to have a similar experience.
Where I live it's hard to get PSB recordings. Can you pick up a copy of a particular album or single and send it to me?
I'm sorry, no. I'm not in the business of buying PSB recordings and mailing them to others, not even if you're willing to reimburse me for it. If I had wanted to be a music distributor, I would have made that my profession—which it's not.
Can you send me .mp3s or other audio files, especially of PSB rareties?
Nope. I have no interest in getting on the bad side of music industry lawyers. (Just ask Napster and Audiogalaxy.) Call me a coward—I admit it. Lawyers scare the hell out of me. A few of them are even personal friends of mine, and they're some of the scariest people I know.
Can we trade audio files, tapes, or CDs?
Sorry, no—no matter how tempting it may be. I already have a couple music-trading relationships (exchanging legal, legitimately purchased CDs and vinyl exclusively), and I can barely keep up with them now. I'm afraid I can't handle any more—not even as a one-time thing.
I'm an aspiring musician and have created some original music of my own. Could you please listen to some of my songs and tell me what you think of them?
On a number of occasions I've received requests from aspiring musicians who have recorded their own original music, often in a somewhat PSB-ish style, to listen to their songs and provide my "analysis" or "assessment." I've always been quite uncomfortable about this. Solicited input of this sort is inherently tainted. Please put yourself in my shoes. What if I listen to your music and I genuinely think that it's not very good? It would be honest of me—but not very nice—to tell you what I truly think. So I'm torn between my desires to be honest on the one hand and on the other to be pleasant and supportive of aspiring artists. I don't like being forced to make that choice.
I also know from painful personal experience that aspiring artists sometimes react in a highly defensive manner to disinterested criticism of their work—even if they themselves solicited that criticism. In short, if you aren't going to graciously accept critique, then please don't ask for it. Since I cannot predict how anyone will react to what I say, I've chosen not to be placed in that position anymore. Henceforth I will politely decline any such requests.
How long have you been a PSB fan? Have you been a fan of theirs from the start?
I first heard the Pet Shop Boys in 1986 when "West End Girls" became a big hit on U.S. radio. I distinctly remember hearing it for the first time on my car radio while driving home from work. My initial impression was, "Gee, Al Stewart has adopted an interesting new sound." Imagine my surprise when I learned shortly thereafter that it wasn't Al Stewart at all!
I liked the Pet Shop Boys' subsequent U.S. hits well enough as radio fodder, but I never liked them enough to buy any of their records. It wasn't until late 1992 or early 1993, while I was doing research for a book I was working on about gay male depictions and influences in rock music (more about that below), that I picked up a copy of Discography on the advice of a friend. Well, it knocked me out—especially songs that hadn't been hits in the U.S. and I had never heard before, such as "Left to My Own Devices," "So Hard," and "Being Boring." Discography quickly became a regular on my CD player.
Then, a few months later, when Very came out and garnered glowing reviews, I picked it up as well. And it absolutely floored me! It immediately became one of my all-time favorite albums. I decided at that point to buy all of the Boys' albums, which I did in short order. I loved them all. When I learned that their singles contained non-album tracks, I started snatching them up as well. In short, I was hooked.
Incidentally, one of my greatest regrets is the fact that I didn't become a fan until about two years after the Boys brought their brilliant Performance show to Minneapolis, where I was living at the time. The venue where they played was a mere 15-minute walk from my home! Yet I didn't attend the concert—in fact, I wasn't even aware of it—because I wasn't following the Pet Shop Boys back then. Oh, the irony!
How many times have you seen the Pet Shop Boys perform live, in person?
So far I've seen them perform live, in person, only twice: the first time during their 1999 Nightlife tour and the second during their 2006 Fundamental tour. I also had tickets for their local date on the 2002 Release tour. But, in a horrible twist of fate, my father passed away, and his funeral, more than 2,000 miles away, happened to be on the same day as the show. So I flew off to the funeral and its associated familial duties, leaving my partner George to attend the concert with a good friend of ours in my stead.
What are your qualifications for your "analyses" of PSB songs?
That depends on how you look at it. In one sense, my qualifications are no different from those of any other huge PSB fan. I believe in a democracy of musical taste, and my opinions are no more valid than anyone else's.
But in another sense I do have strong credentials. I'm a lifelong music fanatic, dating back to my early childhood even before the Beatles came along (oh, I'm revealing my age there!), who has a near-encyclopedic knowledge of rock/pop music history up through the early 1990s. (I have to confess that around that time much of the "Top 40" started slipping away from me, heading in directions that I personally didn't find appealing.) Combine that with my ample experience in literary analysis (my B.A. and M.A. in English literature even before my Ph.D. in American Studies), all those classes in music history and theory, and several years of writing record and concert reviews in college, and you can see that I'm pretty well-equipped to offer musical and lyrical analysis. Oh, yeah—there's that book I wrote, too. Actually, I've written several, but only one is about music.
How do the Pet Shop Boys feel about your website?
I had no idea (at least not for sure) until November 17, 2003, when Neil and Chris took part in a BBC Radio 2 webchat. Near the end they responded to the question "What do you think of the many unofficial websites devoted to you?" After commenting on PSB fansites in general and one other website in particular (the marvelous "10 Years of Being Boring"), they said—
Neil: And there's a guy in America who's done one that's called "Pet Shop Boys Song-by-Song Commentary," and he's an author, and he's gone through every single song we've ever done, and talked about it and discussed it, and his conclusions are quite often wrong, but it's an amazingly thorough piece of work, and he updates it all the time—
Chris: And what's that one with all the lists? — What's that one, where he lists everything—the Top Ten—
Neil: That's him!
Chris: Oh, it's the same one?—oh, it's great, that one, and what I like is: "Ten reasons how the Pet Shop Boys wrecked their career in America"—
[Chris and Neil both laugh]
Chris: —and they're all right! You go through them: yeah—yeah—yeah—
Neil: 100% true! [more laughter]
So they apparently like my website—"often wrong" conclusions and all—and have visited it often enough to note my frequent updates. Needless to say, I was practically bouncing off the ceiling with excitement when I learned about this!
What's your reaction to Neil's assertion that your "conclusions are quite often wrong"?
"I only arrived in London yesterday, and heard quite by chance at luncheon that you were having an exhibition, so of course I dashed impetuously to the shrine to pay homage.… Where are the pictures? Let me explain them to you."
—Anthony Blanche to artist Charles Ryder in Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited
It seems terribly presumptuous of Anthony—who's only half-joking, if at all—to offer to explain Charles's own paintings to him. But is he really being all that presumptuous? Outside observers can indeed provide valuable insights into art that lie beyond the intentions of the artist. And while I would never presume to try to teach Neil and Chris anything at all about their own music, I hope you, my readers, will indulge me.
First of all, I'm so thrilled and honored that Neil and Chris have visited this website and have said so many wonderful things about it (in their comments during their November 17, 2003, BBC Radio 2 webchat, quoted above) that I feel positively churlish taking issue with anything that Neil has said about it. I have nothing but the utmost respect and admiration for him and his art. And if Neil regards my conclusions as "quite often wrong"—well, I'm both pleased and humbled that he and Chris consider them worth reading and commenting on at all.
It's certainly understandable that Neil—or any artist, for that matter—would regard his own intentions in creating his art as the basis for any "correct" interpretation. And, to be sure, what an artist says about his or her own work is a valuable and important consideration in its analysis. But I would suggest to Neil that he does his work a tremendous disservice to imply that his intentions in its creation are the basis of the only "correct" interpretation.
As I suggest on my home page, one of the primary characteristics that distinguishes "good" or "great" art from "bad" or "mediocre" art is the fact that good art lends itself to multiple interpretations. An artwork that lacks ambiguity of any sort—that lacks the complexity and subtlety that encourages varying interpretations by different people, by different cultures, and by different time periods—is, by and large, an inferior work. To put it another way, an artwork that means only what the artist says it means seriously risks not meaning anything to anyone other than the artist him- or herself.
Critics and scholars have long recognized the intentional fallacy, a term coined in a 1946 essay written by critics William Wimsatt and Monroe Beardsley. In short, it means that it's fallacious to interpret an artwork solely or even primarily on the basis of the presumed intentions of the artist. As expressed succinctly by Susan Sontag in her classic 1964 essay Notes on Camp, "One doesn't need to know the artist's private intentions. The work tells all."
There are a number of reasons for this viewpoint, including:
- We can never know for sure what an artist really intended, even if
he or she has stated unequivocally what that intention presumably is. Artists
might remember incorrectly or selectively, they may change their minds, or they
may even outright lie about their intentions for personal reasons, whatever
they may be.
- During the creative process, artists are often
unconsciously influenced by factors that fall outside the realm of intentionality.
Be they psychological, cultural, social, sexual, political, religious, economic,
what have you—such influences may emerge in the artwork from the artist's
subconscious without the artist being aware of them. The artist's intentions may
have nothing to do with it.
- Intentions may not be totally irrelevant,
but they're less important than actual results. Consider an archer. He faces three
targets: a red one, a yellow one, and a blue one. It is the archer's intention
to hit the red one, so he aims for it. Unfortunately, he misses the red target,
hitting the yellow one instead. But from an observer's perspective, the archer
appears to have made a perfect shot—at the yellow target. "You hit the target!"
cries the spectator. "No," says the archer, "you've got it wrong. I was aiming
for the red one." Making his intentions known calls attention more to the fact
that he missed his target than to the observer's failure to understand his intentions
and interpret the results "correctly." Now, while shooting arrows and watching
them hit targets is far from a perfect analogy for creating and assessing art,
neither is it wholly inappropriate. Results do have more meaning than intentions.
- All art is essentially a collaborative endeavor between the artist
and the audience. Just as there is no art without an artist, there's no art without
an audience, either. The audience contributes whole worlds of meaning to the artwork.
In fact, one could argue that, in effect, any artwork is a different artwork
for each person who experiences it. The artist's presumed intentions are only
one factor in the equation.
- Every work of art is an artifact
of the culture in which it was created. It reflects the time and place from which
it emerged. We can learn a lot about late medieval England from reading Chaucer's
Canterbury Tales. Was it Chaucer's intention to serve this anthropological
function? Maybe—maybe not. But Chaucer's intention or lack thereof is fundamentally
irrelevant. Conversely, art can also inform other cultures. We often gain
insight into our own time and place from art of ages past and a world away, despite
the fact that the artist knew nothing of the world in which we live aside from
the broadest generalities common to all human cultures. Again, whether the artist
intended this function is beside the point.
I could go on, but you probably see what I'm getting at. From Neil's perspective, my conclusions about the Pet Shop Boys' songs may indeed often be "wrong." But if Neil's intentions were all that mattered, then I doubt seriously that there would be as many fans of their music as there are.
From my perspective, which you, Neil, Chris, and anyone else can take or leave as you or they see fit, my conclusions are indeed correct—at least until I change my mind about them, as I have done from time to time. By the same token, your conclusions are correct for you—and the Pet Shop Boys' conclusions are correct for them. I can only hope that others might derive some insight, pleasure, and perhaps even greater appreciation for the marvelous words and music of the Pet Shop Boys from what I have to say.
I just read your analysis of the track "Beautiful People," in which you said that the string ensemble and harmonica at the end symbolize what the song's about. You don't believe that the Pet Shop Boys actually intended that, do you?
As I state in my rather verbose response to the previous question, intentionality has little to do with it. Let me put it another way. Most people would consider only two possible responses to this question:
- Yes, Chris and Neil intended it.
- No, Chris and Neil did not intend it. And you, Studer, fabricated this nonsense out of the hot, steamy water coming out of your shower head.
I would argue, however, that this is simplistic. There's a third possibility.
Chris and Neil may not have consciously intended for the instrumental conclusion of the song to symbolize its core meaning. But their profound artistic and aesthetic sensibilities—which have served them supremely well throughout their career—enabled them to make a choice that felt right to them even if they may not have been consciously aware on an analytical level of why it felt right. They just knew it was the right thing to do.
(By the way, this would be true even in the unlikely event that someone else—Xenomania? Johnny Marr?—made that decision. Somebody had that artistic insight. Besides, I'm sure that the Boys had the final say in the matter.)
That, in fact, is often what separates great artists from mediocre ones. Mediocre artists lack that degree of aesthetic sensibility that allows them to make such decisions naturally. Instead they may consciously strive for those types of "artistic special effects," if you will, only to have them turn out stilted, forced, and contrived. And even in those cases in which great artists do make such decisions on a conscious, intellectual level—which may indeed be true in this instance—they have the sensitivity and skill to implement their ideas in a much subtler, more natural, more aesthetically pleasing manner.
Whichever is the case—whether they consciously intended it or not—it's there. Either way it demonstrates their great artistry.
Why don't you capitalize PSB song titles the way the Boys themselves say they're supposed to be capitalized, with each one written as if it were a sentence (for example, "Tonight is forever" instead of "Tonight Is Forever")?
It's not out of ignorance. Boneheaded contrariness, perhaps. But at least it proves I'm no mere PSB sycophant.
More seriously, folks—and I sincerely hope I'm not going to offend anyone by saying this—I personally regard the "official" PSB way of capitalizing their song titles to be a stylistic affectation that no one else is obliged to follow. Call me old-fashioned (irony intended), but I don't see why I or anyone else should deviate from the conventions of title capitalization that have served the English language and the worlds of publishing, journalism, and academia perfectly well for the past two centuries or so.
You might respond, "But they wrote the songs! The songs are theirs! So you're wrong to capitalize them differently!"
No. Once an artist shares his or her work with the public, he or she no longer "owns" it. To be sure, the artist (or publisher) generally owns the copyright to that artwork and thereby has certain exclusive commercial, financial, and other "intellectual property" rights related to it. But the artwork itself has slipped out of their hands. This is especially true with regard to critical references to it. It's no more "wrong" for me to capitalize a song title in the conventional way than it is for Neil and Chris to capitalize a song title in an
Besides, just look at how the Boys themselves have capitalized the titles of songs written by others that they've covered, such as (and, to illustrate, I'll use their capitalization style here) "Always on my mind," "What keeps mankind alive?" and "Where the streets have no name (I can't take my eyes off you)." They haven't felt obliged to adhere to how the writers of those songs capitalized their titles. So neither do I feel any such obligation.
In short, Chris and Neil are perfectly free to capitalize song titles—their own and anyone else's—as they see fit. And so am I. None of us are "wrong" to do so.
By the way, I don't capitalize the title of Brian Wilson's magnum opus Smile as SMiLE, either. It was a design consideration, for goshsakes!
Don't you know you're supposed to say "Pet Shop Boys" without the definite article—not "the Pet Shop Boys"?
I seem to recall a song titled "We're the Pet Shop Boys" (my emphasis). I know our musical heroes didn't write it, but they did cover it. Twice, no less. And if it's good enough for them, it's good enough for me.
What do you think of all the bad reviews your 1994 book Rock on the Wild Side got?
Well, it got at least as many good reviews as bad reviews, though I have to confess that some of the bad ones were really nasty. (Those British critics can be murder!) But, as they say, no publicity is bad publicity. Besides, Neil and Chris received their own share of nasty reviews for their musical Closer to Heaven, so I consider myself in excellent company.
I'd like to buy a copy of your book Rock on the Wild Side. Where can I find it?
Up until around the year 2000 it was readily available in both "gay bookstores" and some of the larger mainstream chains like Barnes & Noble and Borders. You can probably still order it from such stores. It's also still available online from Amazon.com, though I don't know how much longer that will continue to be the case. I believe it has reached the end of its printing run, and I doubt that there will be any subsequent printings.
I've seen it in two different used books stores as well. That's a long shot, to be sure, but a possibility nonetheless.
By the way, I'm afraid I can't sell any copies myself. I now have only two copies left of my own, and I don't want to part with either of them.
Your photos on your website don't look very much like your picture in Rock on the Wild Side. Are you really the same person?
Thanks for reminding me of the inexorable passage of time. After all, that book was published back in 1994. Since then I've gained some weight, turned a bit grayer (I'm well into "salt-and-pepperdom," though I still have more pepper than salt), and grown a full beard, as opposed to the mere moustache I had back then. But if you look closely, you can see it's the same guy. No, I haven't changed all that much. The nose alone should be a dead giveaway.
Then again, maybe I'm not the same person that I was in 1994. Which brings us to our next question—
If you were writing your book today, is there anything you would do differently?
Yes, there are several things I'd do differently. I won't discuss most of them here, but I will mention that I wouldn't be so "politically correct" nowadays. Back in the early 1990s, when I wrote Rock on the Wild Side, I was heavily into political correctness. Oh, I was painfully politically correct! One might attribute it to the lingering effects of my having been something of a gay activist in the preceding decade. My attitudes have changed somewhat in the intervening years—the mellowing or even wisening effects of age, perhaps—and a number of artists whom I lambasted for the apparent attitudes expressed in certain songs probably wouldn't receive such harsh criticism from me today. The songs haven't changed, but the rest of the world, myself included, has.
For a guy with a Ph.D. and two degrees in English, you certainly use your fair share of bad grammar. What gives?
I assure you that when I use "bad" grammar, it's no accident—at least 99.8% of the time. (The other 0.2% slips past me. But, hey, nobody's perfect!) As I used to tell my college writing students back when I spent my days in front of a classroom, it's perfectly OK to use bad grammar as long as:
- You know when you're doing it,
- You know why you're doing it, and
- You know how to do it well—that is, effectively.
But if you don't know those three things, then stick with the prescriptivist grammarians and adhere to the rules. Ain't nothin' wrong with that.
What's the deal with those changing pictures of the Pet Shop Boys on your home page? What have you done to make some of them look so "different," and why?
I tend to find most ordinary publicity photographs uninteresting, so I often try to "spice them up" through various digital treatments. I also think these altered images serve as a nice metaphor for what my site is all about—providing personal interpretations of the Pet Shop Boys and their music. So just as my analyses of their songs are filtered, so to speak, through my eyes, so too are most of those rotating images filtered through my eyes (and software) as well. If, however, the copyright holder of any image that I use contacts me regarding his/her/their objection to my use or treatment of that image, I will immediately remove it from my pool of rotating pictures.
Why don't you put together a website like this for [fill in the blank]?
I've actually toyed with the idea of creating similar "commentary" websites for two of my other favorite artists, the Beach Boys and Steely Dan. But the Beach Boys catalog is so vast it would take a long time for me to develop such a site. Besides, for all of their musical innovation and excellence, most Beach Boys songs (except for those few for which Van Dyke Parks wrote the words) aren't nearly as lyrically interesting as those of the Pet Shop Boys. And while Steely Dan songs are as lyrically interesting—the apotheosis of obscurantism, and I mean that in the nicest possible way—I have to fall back on my primary reason for sticking solely to the Pet Shop Boys: my PSB website already takes up an awful lot of my spare time, so I simply can't handle another one like it.
How much time per week do you devote to this website?
That depends on how busy the "PSB world" is. During periods when the Pet Shop Boys are relatively inactive (at least from the public's perspective), with no new music or news emerging, then I probably spend only three or four hours per week on the site. On the other hand, during periods when there's a lot going on, such as when our heroes are putting out new music, I devote a lot more time to it: probably a good ten to twelve hours per week. But I love it, so what the heck! And I still manage to hold down a fulltime job, maintain a social life, take long walks with George almost every day (it's about the only significant exercise we get), and maintain another website for a nonprofit organization to which I belong. In short, I'm a busy boy!
You're not seriously suggesting that the Pet Shop Boys are the greatest pop group of all time, are you?
Actually, no. I'm only suggesting that they're one of the greatest pop groups of all time, as well as my own personal favorite contemporary recording artists. Someone can regard a certain artist as his or her own personal favorite while conceding that there are other artists just as great or even greater.
Then again, at least as far as I'm concerned, there aren't many greater than the Pet Shop Boys.
Aside from the Pet Shop Boys, what other pop music artists are your favorites, and why?
I've created a separate page that answers this very question.
How do you regard Erasure in comparison with the Pet Shop Boys? Aren't they very much alike?
In many ways, yes, they are very much alike, at least superficially. Both are British synthpop duos who started off in the 1980s and have openly gay vocalist/lyricists. And I do like Erasure tremendously, counting them among my favorites. But I like the Pet Shop Boys far more.
I believe Erasure and the Pet Shop Boys are comparable as performers, although I think Neil and Chris put on a better show overall. I also think the Boys have a better sense of style. But, much more importantly, they're vastly superior songwriters. Clarke/Bell is a pretty good songwriting team. But Tenant/Lowe is, in my opinion, a truly great songwriting team. More pointedly, Andy simply isn't in the same league as Neil when it comes to writing lyrics.
For
every two Erasure songs that I like, I can name another that I don't care for.
By contrast, out of more than 200 PSB songs to date, I can honestly say that (as
I note elsewhere) there are only two that I dislike: "The Sound of the Atom Splitting"
and "Love Is a Catastrophe." To put
it another way, I like about 67% of what Erasure does, whereas I enjoy more than
99% of the Pet Shop Boys' output. Also, I find both the early and more recent
albums by Erasure rather weak—I think they peaked in the 1990s with the albums
from Chorus through Cowboy—whereas PSB's albums were top-notch
from the start and have, in my opinion, maintained an unremitting level of excellence.
(Let's just say that Disco 2 was an anomaly.
)
I have a warped little dream: that someday Erasure will release an album of nothing but Tennant/Lowe songs, perhaps including a few remakes but ideally made up mostly of previously unreleased originals. Better yet, the Pet Shop Boys would also produce the album, while allowing Clarke a free hand with his synth arrangements, of which he is an absolute master. One song could even be a "duet," in which both Vince and Chris play instruments and both Andy and Neil sing. (Can you imagine a love-duet between those two? Half of me thrills at the thought; the other half cringes in horror.) Such an album could be nirvana. (Please note the lower-case n.) Of course, it will almost certainly never happen, but I still love to imagine it.
C'mon guys—you can work it out.
What are your interests and hobbies besides popular music?
My tastes range from the sublime to the ridiculous, an inexplicable amalgam of the highbrow, middlebrow, and lowbrow, with a healthy dose of sheer geekiness thrown into the mix:
- American history
Especially the Civil War and the decades leading up to it (1810-1860). Not so coincidentally, it's the time period on which my Ph.D. research was focused.
- Shakespeare
Particularly the tragedies. More than any other writer, he tells you what it means to be human in the face of all the horrible things that life can throw at you. My favorite? It's a toss-up between Hamlet and Othello.
- William Faulkner
Absalom, Absalom! is my all-time favorite novel. It also gets my vote as the finest in all of American literature, Melville's Moby Dick notwithstanding. Since U.S. television isn't about to do it, I would love for the BBC to produce a mini-series based on it. A 1959 movie was based on another great Faulkner novel, The Sound and the Fury, but it doesn't come close to doing the book justice. (For one thing, Yul Brenner was so horribly miscast as Jason Compson that the screenwriters had to modify the storyline just to accommodate his obviously non-Southern accent.) And why hasn't somebody yet turned The Bear into the incredible film it ought to be? If I had several tens of millions of dollars to dispose of as I saw fit, I would personally finance it! (Are you listening, Bill Gates?)
- F. Scott Fitzgerald
Anyone with a lick o' sense knows how great The Great Gatsby is, but don't overlook Tender Is the Night.
- T.S. Eliot
Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
— from Ash-Wednesday (1930)
- comic books
Although I no longer collect comic books, they were an extremely important part of my childhood. From ages 6 to 12 I was an obsessive devotee—to DC Comics in particular and, even more especially, to Justice League of America. I bought every issue of JLA from 1962 until around 1969. And I have to confess to a persistent nostalgic fascination: whenever possible I caught episodes of their recent animated revival on the Cartoon Network, and I'm thrilled over the news that a live-action film is currently under development. (But can it possibly live up to my expectations?) I've also thoroughly enjoyed the X-Men movies, even if they did muck up the Dark Phoenix saga. It was understandable and forgivable, but a mucking up nonetheless.
- writing
- teaching
- instructional
design
- HTML
- websurfing
- cats
We're "catless" now, our last kitty having passed away in early 2005 at the age of 20, which roughly equates to a human living to be 100. (Our other kitty had died two years earlier at the age of 18.) Although we haven't ruled out the possibility down the road of sharing our home with one or more other cats, we're currently enjoying the freedom of not owning any pets. It certainly makes it easier to take vacations, doesn't it?
By the way, just because one likes cats doesn't mean one likes Andrew Lloyd Webber's Cats. On the contrary, I intensely dislike it. More about my theatrical tastes below.
- long walks
We try to walk at least a mile a day—two or more when we can squeeze them in—weather permitting. I'm not fond of walking in the rain.
- the outdoors
I have near-fetishes for, conversely, both dense forests and big open fields. And nothing quite matches the feeling of being out on a boat.
I'd always had a "brown thumb" when it came to growing plants—nearly everything I ever planted died in very short order—until I discovered the joys of desert vegetation. I now have more than 70 species of cactuses and succulents in my "living collection." Put 'em out on a patio or deck, in a window, or in some other spot with lots of sunlight (except for those few that prefer the shade: watch out for those!), water 'em once every two weeks or so (but don't water them at all during their annual dormant period), and from time to time you'll enjoy some marvelous blossoms. Besides, they're so damn butch! You do, however, quickly learn to wear nice, thick gloves when working with them, no matter how butch you think you are.
- Six Feet Under
Its wonderful first season and at times astounding final season (the concluding episode of which brought tears to my eyes) made the occasional frustrations of Seasons 2-4 well worth it. Now answer these questions—
- Why were they given the family name Fisher? And why may the names Ruth, David, and Claire also be significant?
- Why was it necessary that Nathaniel (Nate) Fisher, Sr. and Jr., father and son, both die during the course of the series?
- Why are the seeming throwaway lines in the final episode in which Anthony asks Brenda whether it hurts to have a baby, to which she replies that it does, terribly important?
—and perhaps all will be revealed. But if you want me to share my own answers, here you go.
- The Sopranos
At its best it was about as gripping and addictive as television can get. It declined in its later years, but was still well worth watching. Now that it's over and done, allow me to chime in on its somewhat controversial final episode. (But don't click on that link if you don't want spoilers!)
- Deadwood
A #@%!ing brilliant re/deconstruction of the old American West, with singularly rich writing and characterization. Let Shakespeare mud-wrestle with Zane Grey while the censors are safely locked away in the nearest bordello—it might look and sound something like this. It's a cryin' shame that this brilliant series ran for only three short seasons for a total of just 36 episodes.
- Rome
The most enjoyable ancient history lesson since I, Claudius. Its creators very astutely interwove two different types of aesthetic experience: those of observing how known historical conclusions unfold (such as the events leading up to Julius Caesar's assassination) and of being surprised by unknown fictional outcomes (such as the respective fates of Lucius Vorenus and his wife, Niobe). The first season was, I believe, markedly better than the second, and its deliberate deviations from the historical record were at times jarring (if dramatic). But it nevertheless surpassed in quality 99.99% of everything else that's ever been on television.
- The Simpsons
Long the greatest cartoon show in the history of the universe, as well as one of the greatest satires, it has (in my opinion) recently been surpassed by South Park. Still gotta love it, though.
Bad taste elevated to near-epic proportions, including the most consistently hilarious use of obscenities ever. It has even usurped The Simpsons on the throne of contemporary satire. It's a pity, however, that I'm being forced to re-evaluate my fondness for this show. If you're wondering why, allow me to explain.
- Rick and Steve: The Happiest Gay Couple in All the World
The Logo channel's delightful (and often quite tasteless) comedy starring stop-motion animated Legoland®-like figures: proof that the gay and lesbian community can satirize and laugh at themselves with the best of 'em.
- Babylon 5
A big, sprawling, epic science-fiction novel for television. I was disappointed in its fifth and final season, but Seasons 2-4 made it, in my opinion, the finest sci-fi show ever and the best television program of any genre at the time. (I almost forgot to breathe during the unforgettable Season 2 episode "The Coming of Shadows.") Of its various subplots, the story of Londo Mollari, G'Kar, and their respective planets was the stuff of high tragedy.
- Star Trek
In nearly all of its assorted permutations. Hell, I even liked Enterprise, despite its serious flaws in execution.
- Dark Shadows
It was cheesy, I know, but the plots—often lifted wholesale from "horror classics"—were so byzantine that I can't help but admire it. The failed 1991 remake was technically much superior, but it didn't have nearly the intricacy or nuance (yes, nuance!) of the original. The 1795 flashback that related how Barnabas Collins became a vampire was probably the best and least derivative storyline, but actually my favorite was the genuinely terrifying "Ghost of Quentin Collins" plot, adapted from Henry James's The Turn of the Screw. And I loved the way they could take their time unfolding the stories oh-so-gradually. That's something only a good soap opera can do.
- The Outer Limits
The original series from the sixties—not the often dreadful contemporary version. I wasn't even ten years old when one episode ("The Sixth Finger," if I recall) scared me so much that I locked myself in the bathroom and wouldn't come out for an hour. You can't make up precious memories like that!
- Universal Studios horror movies of the 1930s—and one in particular
I love Dracula, The Mummy, and Frankenstein, but even more than those, the latter's vastly superior sequel, The Bride of Frankenstein. A lot of people don't realize it, but The Bride is actually a dark comedy—or, as its director James Whale allegedly described it, "a comedy about death"—filled with iconic scenes and imagery. And name an actor or actress aside from Elsa Lanchester who achieved absolute screen immortality with so little time on-screen: less than five minutes. I kid you not when I say that The Bride of Frankenstein is my all-time favorite film—though I have to admit that The Godfather is a close second.
- The Godfather trilogy
And here's why—because the tale of Michael Corleone is probably the single greatest tragedy to emerge from the popular arts in twentieth-century America. Yes, tragedy, and I mean that in its highest sense. Remember the concluding line from Shakespeare's Sonnet 94, quoted in "If There Was Love": "Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds." That's what it's all about—the gradual, horrible rotting and death of a great soul. But, oh, how I wish Winona Ryder could have portrayed Mary Corleone in the third film* as originally planned. Then it probably would have been perfect.
*Contrary to common opinion, Godfather III is actually a pretty good movie. It just suffers from the inevitable comparison with its two predecessors, which were among the greatest films of the second half of the twentieth century. A final chapter that's merely "pretty good" therefore ends up seeming worse than it really is.
Also, before I injured my back some years ago, I loved to play racquetball; to do so now would court hospitalization.
And if you allow me to distinguish between theater music and "popular music," I must note my love of Stephen Sondheim's Sweeney Todd, some of Andrew Lloyd Webber's work (I thoroughly enjoy Jesus Christ Superstar, Evita, and The Phantom of the Opera, but I can do without the rest), and the delightful but tragically curtailed collaboration of Howard Ashman and Alan Menken (specifically The Little Shop of Horrors and Beauty and the Beast). The classic team of Rodgers and Hammerstein is, in general, a bit syrupy for my taste, but they had their undeniable moments. Take "Some Enchanted Evening" in South Pacific or the reprise of "You'll Never Walk Alone" at the end of Carousel. They make me cry every time, dammit.
Who are some of your least favorite artists?
Ah, you won't trap me with that one. There's no surer way to generate hate mail than to rag on other people's favorite artists.
Why don't you get a life? I mean, the Pet Shop Boys—really!
I already have a very good life, thank you. I can assure you there's a heck of a lot more to it than the Pet Shop Boys. But if you disapprove of the fact that one of my chief hobbies (this website) focuses on them, that's your problem, not mine.
Do you realize just how f___ked up you are to waste so much of your time writing about the Pet Shop Boys?
Thank you for your observation. But, offhand, I'd say I'm probably no more f___ked up than someone would have to be to waste their time writing to me about it.
Copyright © 2001-2009 by Wayne Studer. All Rights Reserved. All lyrics and images copyright © their respective dates by their respective owners. Brief quotations and small, low-resolution images are used for identification and critical commentary; it is therefore believed that they constitute Fair Use under U.S. copyright law.