Janet Jackson – “Rhythm Nation”

  We start off in some huge and creepy warehouse, where we don’t really know what’s going on other than someone forgot to put color film in the camera. Everything is all black and white. There’s an ominous elevator coming down from somewhere, water dripping down the walls, and menacing machines all over the place that probably have evil functions that we don’t want to know about.  Janet and her little friends are doing that monotone voiceover, sounding like Franciscan monks practicing for an exorcism. Little Mary Sunshine would hate this place.

  The camera zooms in on a young man huddled in a corner. He appears to be crying, most likely due to all the depressing crap on the set. He turns to look at that arriving elevator, confusion and horror in his eyes, so Rush Limbaugh is probably inside it. But before we can determine if we need to scream and run, we cut to some folks clamoring down a ladder. The camera doesn’t show us their faces, so they might be in the Witness Protection plan after having done something they shouldn’t have at the top of that ladder.

  Cut to a close-up of water dripping into a puddle, which is like watching paint dry, only with better sound effects.

  Suddenly, we’re in a part of the warehouse where it looks like someone has converted a sinister loading dock into a dance floor, which proves to be very helpful, because Janet and her Rhythm County dancers have just arrived. They quickly get into a triangular formation and simultaneously do that little leg-spreading hop that means “we are about to start performing the intense choreography that will make you feel untalented and useless by the end of the video.”

  Close-up of Janet holding up her gloved fingers (what is it with the Jacksons and handwear?) and doing a little countdown for us, then boom, the music kicks in and everybody is bopping all over the stage in perfect synchronization, which means they had to do 300 takes of this bit until everybody popped at the same time, because nobody is that good. The precision-dancing goes on for a while, then we cut to another area with catwalks and lots of unexplained steam.  Some of the back-up backup dancers are over here, undulating on little stages where strippers would normally be if this was a gentleman’s club.

  Janet jumps into view, finally kicking off the vocals. She starts explaining why we are all part of the rhythm nation, but it’s a little hard to pay attention because she’s sporting this ginormous, vaguely-military medal on her chest. (What the hell did she have to do to wing that?) Speaking of military, everybody is dressed in garb that looks like some type of dark-ops cadet corps. We’ve got a serious uniform fetish going on here. But their intimidating boots sound really good when they stomp them on the floor, so it’s all good.

  We get a glimpse of that young man wandering around in the pipes and steam. You’d think he would have high-tailed it out of here once the 4th Battalion started in with the Electric Slide, but we haven’t lived his life so we can’t really judge his personal decisions in a dank warehouse.

  Meanwhile, Janet and her friends are back on the loading dock, doing more gyrations. I notice that Janet’s ponytail is really dramatic, with her copious locks flying about prettily as she whips her head, while the other female dancers have ponytails that have been slicked-up and tightly bound, not moving a millimeter. This seems a little unfair to the non-Janet girls, but maybe this is just something that’s in Janet’s contract. (“I must have the biggest hair or I’m not leaving the dressing room.”)

  I guess it doesn’t really matter, since everyone seems to be having a swell time.  We spend a while on the loading dock, occasionally cutting over to this odd, really long room where Janet and the Janettes march toward the camera in a dominating manner, sort of like the “uh oh, that’s not good” scenes in Night of the Living Dead when the zombies band together and storm the old wooden house. (Maybe if the video producers hadn’t decided to film in black and white, I wouldn’t have gone there, but they did, so I did.)

  We eventually find Janet and a few of her closest backup dancers in yet another part of the warehouse, where they are doing a special routine that mostly involves them striking various poses that require them to hold their fists up in front of their faces. Okay, then, they are prepared to fight. But, um, what are they fighting? The steam?

  We make another visit to the loading dock, because it’s time for another major line dance, this one having something to do with everybody pointing their fingers and thrusting their hips. It’s all very well done, of course, because you don’t get to be in a Janet Jackson video unless you know what the hell you’re doing. The backup dancers are hitting every critical plot point in the choreography as if their lives depended on it. And really, it does. You get your ass kicked off a Jackson shoot, you better have a Plan B for your career choice.

  Another shot of the young man wandering around Area 57 when he should be finding an exit door. Instead of fleeing, he decides to pause and watch Janet and the drill team continue with their exuberant rhythmic moves. I’m not sure why he’s forced to review the dancing from the other side of a chain-link fence (what is that all about?) but it’s a good thing that he decided to stick around, because this is the section where the choreography goes into overdrive, with the dancing folks performing moves that most humans couldn’t accomplish without a personal trainer and lots of free time on their hands.

  This part goes on for a very long time. Not that this is a bad thing, it’s just that the energy unleashed during this segment is enough to power the city of Newark for three years. I was completely exhausted, and all I did was push play. If we could get that kind of power unleashed during election season, the whole country might be in a better place. Food for thought, yes? (Quit eating nachos and watching reruns of Sex in the City, get in the car and go vote.)

  Then we head to what I’m assuming is one of the basement levels of the warehouse. (No one handed me a map, so I’m just guessing here.) In this bit, Janet and a select cadre of dancers are performing an interpretive piece that I believe has something to do with… hell, I don’t know. We have cameo dancers who are very limber and can do the splits. They are very invested in their craft, and they perform some admirable moves, especially the one guy (girl?) with the nunchucks. S/he’s whipping those things around with an intensity that would certainly make me pay attention to whatever cause s/he represents. I’m writing out a donation check right now, you can let me know what I just supported some other time. Please don’t whap me upside the head with something on the end of a chain.

  Next up, we roll into a montage of Janet and the High-Kicking Cadets doing their thing all over the warehouse. Sometimes we have just a few of them doing something intricate in a shadowy hallway, other times we have the entire population of Nevada doing pelvic thrusts in a massive steam-drenched room full of metal walkways that might be a gay bar in SoHo. Eventually we get to the point where Janet and Friends are doing that extended sequence where they keep popping their heads to one side repeatedly, in what looks like a very painful dance move.  Even the Young Man who doesn’t seem to have a purpose other than to run around and try to get out of here pauses in his running with an expression saying “That’s gotta hurt, girl. Why you jackin’ with your neck like that?”

  Janet  doesn’t really have time to answer him, because this is also the part of the video where the camera keeps zooming in for a close-up of Janet and that big-ass key hanging from her right earlobe, whilst she sing-pleads for us to “say it for” all of the oppressed people of the world. This is a very admirable plea, but I’m still not getting the military theme with the outfits. Or the shadowy darkness. Or the still inexplicable steam that keeps billowing like something mechanical is having an orgasm.

  I guess it really doesn’t matter, because we head into the last bit of the story, with Janet and the Janettes doing a final line dance on the loading dock, wherein they seem to be telling the story of what happens when you add sugar to your already-sugared breakfast cereal. These folks are caught up in a synchronized fervor that makes you lose weight from simply watching the video. Seriously, just keep hitting play and you’ll drop a dress size or two. Promise.

  Then the dancers all suddenly hunch over to the right and freeze. End trans.

  Meanwhile, the Young Man who just wants to get the hell out of here and find a place where people aren’t aggressively dancing for inexplicable reasons manages to stumble his way toward that elusive Exit Door. He opens it, and a Jackson family member hands him a glove…

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Love and Rockets - "So Alive"

  We start out with a shadowy image of what we’ll soon learn is a disembodied pair of legs that will quickly take over the video with a vengeance, then we cut to lead singer Daniel’s gloved hands caressing a microphone stand in a very intimate manner. (It’s not my place to judge, and they do make a cute couple.) Then we have a nice profile silhouette of Daniel, as he and his electrified hair prepare to sing about being alive and apparently having access to extensive amounts of styling products.

  First though, we have to go through a bit where they establish another theme of the video, this one involving making it look like things are under water. This is probably highly symbolic in some way, or maybe it’s just a nice feature for those partaking in recreational drugs. Then we finally get to the business part of things, with Daniel launching into the vocals while the shadow legs do some random choreography on the wall behind him, some footwork that could be the Texas Two-Step or could might be someone receiving the Heimlich maneuver.

  This leads to a shot where we have multiple sets of the legs wearing glamour heels and marching in a single line toward… I don’t know, it’s never made clear, but it must be an important place because the legs spend the entire video trying to get there. Happily, the legs are now the real thing and not just shadowy billows. Sadly, the legs are still missing the upper halves of their bodies. (Or the cameraman is really, really short.) It’s a little creepy, with the subtle hint that someone may have done something unsavory with a chainsaw, but they are very nice legs, in that super-thin supermodel style of legs, and you can certainly understand why someone might write a pop song about them.

  Next up, we start our third theme of the video, wherein the various band members wear moody sunglasses whilst various lights are splashed across their stoic, “bored with all this” faces.  It’s also about this time that Daniel starts one of his signature moves, where he raises his eyes to the Lord, or at least a ceiling fan, apparently overcome by the passion of the lyrics. We seem to spend most of these moments focusing on his right eye, so the director must feel that that one has better stage presence. Or that eye has a better agent who managed to get the eye better billing in the credits.

  As we approach the one-minute mark, Daniel suddenly gets a headache that causes him to briefly transform into David Bowie during his Ziggy Stardust fetish. It’s a very special moment.

  Then it’s time for more shadow play, as Daniel uses his hands and his hair to create images that spell out the migratory pattern of some interestingly-shaped birds. This goes on for a while, so the birds are apparently flying to someplace important. (Maybe they are meeting the torso-less legs for cocktails in SoHo?) This is followed by a quick montage of some of the light-dappled band members, reminding us that none of them are the least bit invested in cracking a smile.

  Eventually we get around to the image of just one supermodel leg swinging in the wind, which could mean anything. But before we can ask any questions, we kick off another montage, this one involving some video editor splashing stars all over the screen, some very grainy footage of possible pornography, and more close-ups of Daniel’s right eye as it gazes worshipfully at the ceiling fan. The ceiling fan doesn’t immediately answer Daniel’s prayers because, well, it’s a ceiling fan.

  Then the marching line of legs is back, but this time the sets of legs have stopped walking and they seem to be milling around in confusion. (This is probably the point where the sets are all wondering, “hey, where’s the rest of our bodies?”) While the legs compare notes, the camera runs through all of the band members again, letting us see that they are still very moody and insisting on not looking at us, because that’s how you’re supposed to act in an artsy, semi-Goth band where people wear stark clothing and quote poetry about death.

  Another brief shot of Daniel singing, without all the hand choreography, and then the legs are on the march again. This appearance of the stilettos is apparently slightly different, although they look the same to me, because it triggers Daniel (I think) to grab one of the other band members so they can do a mystifying modified waltz, with twirling and everything. (I have no idea.) Then we’re back to Daniel’s eye and its skyward focus, along with Daniel’s hair and its skyward focus. (Seriously, there’s enough volume with that mess that small children could hide for days.)

  Of course, the legs are soon back, because they’ve obviously become the stars of the show and the band members have become their bitch, forced to merely provide background music while the legs get all the fan mail. This time around, the legs are doing more of that milling about, probably because they don’t have eyes and therefore can’t see where the camera might be. But they still look quite fetching with their “oh so long”-ness and the complete lack of any body fat, so it doesn’t really matter where they pretend to look.

  And that’s about it, folks. There’s the better part of a minute left in the video, but we’ve rolled into that non-lyrical part of the song where some invisible backup singers do the “doot doot” thing while the musicians somberly play their instruments and think bleak thoughts. We get a final, extended montage of all that we’ve seen before (legs, hair, stars, legs, non-smiling, legs, more stars, hair, gloved hands, single-eye praying, legs) and then we fade to black. Which, naturally, is exactly where gothic people like things to fade to…

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Depeche Mode – “Personal Jesus”

  We start out in what is presumably the American Southwest, in one of those states where it’s really dry and hot and nothing important grows except for plants that can be used to make drugs, if you have that kind of cash flow and spare time. The camera is focused on a small group of adobe-style buildings, older structures that have been around longer than many European countries. Just as the song starts, we see a senorita running toward the largest building. No explanation is given, but if she’s moving that fast in this heat, we clearly have an issue of some kind.

  Turns out there’s a pickup truck headed this way, barreling down a dusty road that probably isn’t on any reputable map. But before we can get a good look inside the cab to see who it is and whether or not they’ve got any presents for us, we cut to another scene where we appear to be riding on the back of a horse that we don’t recognize, heading somewhere. (Are we seriously going through the desert on a horse with no name?) Another shot of the running senorita, who really needs to get wherever she’s going because we’re already a little tired of that, another shot of the pickup, arriving at the small village (or maybe a Burger King, not clear), and a couple of dudes getting off some horses who are still unnamed.

  The senorita finally stops running and just stands in the middle of the dirt, and she’s either welcoming the arriving men or waiting for one of them to do something stupid so she can shoot them. (Brief shot of a chicken running. Why can’t these people just relax around here and wait for things to cool off? Is there something in the salsa?) We get a close-up shot of what appears to be lead singer Neil Gahan, but he’s wearing dark sunglasses and cowboy drag, so I’m not putting any money on it. He’s singing while standing near a horse that magically manages to swish its tail in time to the thumping beat, proving that white horses do have rhythm after all.

  Next up is a panoramic shot of the little village, where we don’t really learn anything new other than the buildings are still a faded white and that the long-dead architect really liked arches. (Fleeting glimpse of the senorita smiling oddly and then wandering out of view. She might not understand what her exact role is just yet.) Then the band members and their cowboy duds head into one of the buildings, where they are greeted by what looks like several women posing on an album cover for The Judds, only there are too many of them and not as much makeup.

  As the men shamble around and pretend to be comfortable sporting western wear that they haven’t actually seen before today, the women break ranks and position themselves about the lobby, leaning against balcony railings and staircases in a seductive manner. (Oh. So we’re in a whorehouse. That’s nice. It should be fun watching the band work the theme of “personal Jesus” into this one.) We spend a few moments watching the women strut their wares and the men walking under a wagon-wheel chandelier, because you really shouldn’t sleep with people until you’ve checked out their lighting fixtures.

  Suddenly, Neil appears on the second-floor balcony. He’s apparently lost his shirt somewhere, which is really tragic, but he’s managed to keep his cute little jacket, which gives him the strength to continue singing the song. Meanwhile, the camera individually focuses on several of the strumpets, quick solos where they try to lustily accent their best physical features so the guys can select from the menu. (Holy cow, that one woman has hair longer than my Buick.)

  The girls strut on the literal catwalk for quite a bit, making sure that we carefully analyze their attributes. (Translation: There are NO refunds up in this grill, so choose wisely.) During all of this, Neil and his missing shirt manage to strike a pose that exactly matches the stance of one of the hoedown hookers, and if you squint just right, they could be the same person, especially if our confused senorita hostess has brought along some peyote as an appetizer.

  Neil relocates so that he’s standing in front of a brick wall, one that he apparently feels will enhance the dramatic moment where he tries to reach out and touch us just as they lyrics are encouraging us to “reach out and touch faith”. (Is Faith one of the hookers? This song is certainly taking on a new meaning.) To make sure we understand Neil is trying to bond with us, the camera jumps forward so Neil’s head is filling the screen, like Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade with only one float.

  Then I guess it’s time to get down to business, because the guys head up the stairs to the recreational chambers. This kicks off a montage of doors opening and closing, couples pairing off and heading to boudoirs, and heated women lounging naughtily on mattresses that have been endurance-tested. (Wait, is that Enya in the one room with the afghan? Poor thing. I guess she lost that recording contract, no wonder we haven’t heard from her in a while.)

  Then we’re focusing on Neil again, now having lost his jacket as well as the shirt (but not the cowboy hat, because that would be sacrilege) as he sits in one of the rooms with his back to us, gazing to the side. It’s actually a rather steamy shot, but we probably shouldn’t dwell on it too much because there’s just no polite way to tell someone that they look sexier when we they aren’t looking at us and trying to do the jazz hands thing. The words just wouldn’t come out right, no matter how hard we tried. Of course, tequila would probably make things better, because it always does.

  And we have another montage, with some guy walking by an odd cross symbol that has been painted on the wall (was there a quarantine at some time?), some of the women gazing in adoration at themselves in dusty mirrors (everybody needs somebody to love), horses waiting patiently for the fornication to end, and  then one of the band members (probably Neil) casting a silhouette on the wall of him breathing erratically but sensually to match what we’re hearing during that part of the song. His partner, or at least somebody somewhere in the house, flips her hair around in appreciation.

  Then we have a shot of a horse’s ass, for no apparent reason, and that’s just not sexy no matter how you try to edit it. (Did a record executive piss them off? What IS that?)

  Oh wait, the montage isn’t quite done. We have lassos flying through the air (did one of The Judds try to escape?), some guy in a rocking chair, another guy riding a rocking horse and enjoying it far more than a grown man should, a line dance where we focus on stomping spurs, and the sudden realization that nobody in the band has taken off their sunglasses at any point. Who’s going to recognize you in Slut Creek, Arizona? An armadillo?

  Now we have the band members all gathered together again (I guess the slap and tickle didn’t take very long), as they casually stand and sit around, playing their instruments (having already played their other instruments) and looking desert-chic in the fading sunlight. There’s a shot of one of the guys riding a horse to a telephone in the middle of nowhere (which is relative out here) so he can “pick up the receiver” as instructed by the lyrics. Nothing important happens when he does so, so we might have needed a bit more attention to story structure in the editing room.

  More images of the band playing, including one shot where one of the guitar players appears to be giving us the finger, then we realize it’s the wrong finger. (I could go so many ways with that comment, but I’ll leave that to the floozies on the second floor, who are now gossiping about what fingers did or did not do as they change the bed linens and prepare for the next hourly guests.) The horse shows up again, but this time he’s not so blatant about his hind-quarters, much to the approval of all, especially the band member who is standing next to Trigger and trying to be all artsy and cool.

  The original senorita reappears, waltzing through on her way to who the hell knows, which signals Neil that he should start doing more of that business where he shoves his outstretched hands at the camera. This is ill-advised, because it’s just not emotionally satisfying, and the camera quickly cuts to more shots of the band, this time stroking their instruments near a really tired yucca plant that has seen Johns come and go for centuries and it has more important things to do on its bucket list.

  And now it’s becoming a little bit obvious that the video editors are running out of steam, with more random images of the band members perched in various places and diddling with various musical props. But hey, there’s still some time left in the song, so we have to soldier on, even if it means repeat shots of blowing sand, guys trying to look suave despite the blowing sand getting into crevices, the Senorita still running around trying to escape the blowing sand, and Neil insisting on reaching through the blowing sand and touch us. And blowing sand.

  Brief shot of Neil, or a band member, or Pee Wee Herman, somebody, standing on the far side of a cactus big enough to eat Manhattan. And spit out Donald Trump, because we all know he tastes bad.

  Then there’s some mess where Neil is trying to bond with the desert scenery, fists raised triumphantly in the air while he stands beneath yet another arch in the village, but this doesn’t quite come off right, instead looking like a coming-attractions reel for a New Age retreat where people wear fringe and try to make peace with the demons in their past, like the questionable guidance counselor who told them it was okay to wear fringe in the first place.

  And that’s about it, folks. We get a couple more shots of the band lackadaisically playing their instruments as they recover from being in the desert on women with no names, and then Neil reaches out for us one more time. End trans.

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Thomas Dolby – “She Blinded Me With Science”

  We start out with Thomas tooling down some road, driving one of those old-school motorcycles with a sidecar thing. (I never understood those contraptions. If you need the extra seating, just get a car, right?) Anyway, Thomas and his odd trench-coat are driving up to a collection of buildings in the countryside, where we can see a man with a jetpack standing on the roof of one of the structures. He looks a bit distraught (maybe he should get off the roof, that might help) and he’s shaking his head at us in a manner which indicates we should just go find a nice pub and not stop here.

  But Thomas does, because he’s a free spirit (how else would you explain his hair?), pulling into a little parking circle that makes it clear he just learned how to drive the motorcycle three minutes ago. Some helpful title cards then appear on the screen, letting us know this is “Mr. Dolby’s arrival at the Home for Deranged Scientists”. How nice for him. But why would a deranged scientist voluntarily go to a sanitarium? They must have a really compelling brochure.

  Thomas and his odd cap head inside, where he finds a woman wearing spectacles and looking completely out of place at the reception desk. (She appears to be angry in some way? Did he not have an appointment? Do deranged people even understand what appointments are? Or reception desks?) Thomas hands over some paperwork and takes off his coat, because it’s really far too big for anyone to be wearing if they want to be taken seriously.

  The camera heads out to the lawn (probably because paperwork takes a lot of time to review and no one wants to watch that process) where we find several older gentleman doing strange things. Bubble-blowing appears to be involved, and possibly some synchronized frolicking. Even the cameraman doesn’t know what they’re doing, so he gets bored and we head back into the main building. We find the Receptionist Lady, who is leading us (and presumably Thomas) into an inner chamber with a vague sign on the door, so anything could be happening in here, from barn-dancing to yodeling.

  We are then presented to a man standing at and gazing out a window, perhaps searching for a better-paying job, who turns and comes rushing at us with far more enthusiasm than is comfortable, especially in England where one simply doesn’t show excitement unless another coronation has been announced. He shakes our hand and then proudly directs us to a nearby psychiatric couch. Oh. We’re going to do that now. Great.

  Luckily, the camera switches angles so that we are no longer pseudo-Thomas , and we watch as real-Thomas plops onto the couch with great comfort and familiarity, indicating that he’s been to this rodeo a time or two. As Thomas wiggles his fanny on the couch and the doctor drops into a companion chair, Receptionist Lady (who might be “Miss Sakamoto” from the lyrics or Joan from central casting) decides to climb a short ladder and then fiddle with her skirt in what I’m assuming is supposed to be an erotic manner but really looks like she’s done got the crabs once again.

  This development causes Thomas and his hair to ogle her with barely concealed lust, a sure sign that Thomas has not been watching the right pornographic movies. It also causes the Doctor to suddenly be in a completely different video, one where he waves mysterious implements and does a small jig. Then the Doctor comes back to the right set, and he begins to scribble in his old-school notebook whilst Thomas tries to tell us why he’s here and what led him to wearing intense eye-shadow.

  Thomas starts off by babbling about the stench of chemicals and scratching his head. (Uh oh, did Sakamoto’s crabs leap-frog their way across the room?) As if she heard our thoughts, Sakamoto and her severe glasses turn to give us a penetrating look like she’s a prison warden with her hand on the switch that controls the electric chair. Or maybe she’s just horny, because we quickly cut to another scene where she and Thomas are doing an odd awkward dance in a darkened but classical room, clutching at each other and moving sedately.

  Oh wait, maybe it’s not Saka. This woman has long hair that is not wound into a bitchy receptionist bun, and as she slowly twirls with Thomas, we can see, courtesy of her revealing couture, that she has an odd, vaguely violin-themed tattoo on her back. Maybe this is Saka’s musical personality that takes control from the other personalities in her head when they are all standing on a dance floor? Saka Chaka Khan?

  We briefly cut back to Thomas still on the couch, touching his nose and making sniffing motions. Let it be entered into the court transcript that this is a completely unattractive thing for Thomas to do.

  Another shot of the questionable waltz, then we go back to original Sakamoto as she climbs back down the short ladder. She’s not carrying anything, like reference documents or prescriptions for tranquilizers, so she clearly did all that mess just to show off her legs. Harlot.

  The Doctor and Thomas continue to chat, with Doc scribbling frantically and Thom pulling up one pant leg to show us who knows what. (Another title card pops up, proclaiming “Suitable for Treatment!” I think that card should have started the video.) The Doctor is inspired to do that thing with his implements again, looking manic, and Saka arrives bearing refreshments in the form of a wooden puzzle that Thomas must decipher for some important reason. We watch him bang at that thing for a bit until the cameraman gets bored once again and we head back outside.

  To find those older gentlemen are still frolicking about and being very invested in doing annoying things. One of them is prancing with a jacked-up butterfly catcher, another is playing hopscotch whilst looking through a telescope that is pointed at the ground, and some interns seems to be pushing a patient along on a gurney as they rush to somewhere important. (Oh wait, that last one might actually be serious. These people take pills like a kid eats Skittles, so sooner or later one of them is going to hit the jackpot of unsatisfactory chemical interaction and there’s a flat-line issue. We should probably send a card.)

  We eventually make our way back to Thomas still on the couch, and he seems a bit peeved that we’ve been away for so long. (Dude, there was a Code Blue on the lanai. Un-clench.) But before we can become close friends again, we head into a montage of various happenings around the Happy Valley Home for Head-Jacked Scientists. There’s some man on the lawn wearing shoes that look like smoking guns (symbolic of the Reagan Administration?), more of Jet-Pack Guy on the roof, not knowing what he’s doing but determined to do whatever it is (symbolic of the Thatcher Administration?), and some nuns with those creepy, overblown hats strapping Thomas into a gurney (symbolic of record executives having no idea what to do with new-wave music?) Just guessing.

  The gigantor-hat nuns eventually get Thomas into a room that has a nice little contraption that they can strap to his head, so they do. The headgear looks menacing, in that “does this have anything to do with a lobotomy?” kind of way, but Thomas doesn’t seem to be fighting the procedure. (Maybe he can get some new musical ideas for his next record? At least for the remixes.)

  Next we have a brief shot of someone playing a violin, then we’re back outside where the older gentlemen have gathered and are doing a group dance that has little relation to the music that we are hearing. (So that’s how raves started. At an understaffed sanitarium where Thomas Dolby lusted after a dark-haired woman who may or may not have an STD. Update your notes accordingly.)

  Okay, we’re now in the “operating room”, where Thomas is still wearing his fancy metal bonnet, the Doctor is now wearing one of those old-timey head bands with a mirror stuck in it, some previously-unknown German-flavored people are wearing evil grins, and Sakamota is no longer wearing her severe bun, letting her locks tumble and confirming that she did indeed slow-dance with Thomas in a ballroom that isn’t functioning as intended.  This will have to go in her personnel file, I’m afraid.

  Speaking of the ballroom that really isn’t, we head back there briefly so we can watch Thomas use a violin wand to play the tattoo on Saka Chaka Khan’s back. (Saka doesn’t move a millimeter while this mess is going on, indicating dissatisfaction and boredom, so you know Thomas better find another form of foreplay or there’s going to be a heated discussion and possible privilege-reduction.

  And we’re back to Thomas on the gurney, presumably post-lobotomy, and we watch him watch several smartly-dressed young boys head past him into a secret room. (Symbolic of game night for certain Catholic priests?) Then we have another montage, letting us know that Thomas is actually still talking to the Doctor, the Jet-Pack Guy still hasn’t found what he’s looking for, the creepy nuns are still being really pushy with people, Sakamoto is back to her “I’m still pissed off about something” attitude, and Afternoon Tea has been seriously compromised what with all the rude interruptions.

  New title card, this one announcing “Mr. Dolby rejects Science and things Scientific”.

  So he’s become a Republican?

  We wrap things up with Thomas and that coat we don’t like heading out the door of the asylum while looking subversive and shady, a shot of the Doctor emoting in a dark corner and proving that any licenses he may have should be ripped from his over-active hands, Thomas again heading out the door, this time in his white couture from the apparently dream-sequence lobotomy, and the Doctor being shoved into a wheelchair and then subsequently shoved into a nearby river while people look the other way.

  Symbolic of the staff at Fox News? You decide…

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Moving Pictures – “What About Me”

  We start with the camera panning along outside of the infamous corner shop, with bits of advertising posters and such whipping by, like a smiling, 1940’s urchin urging us to drink our milk or we’ll become a Communist. The camera catches up with a little boy and his old-school suspenders as he goes in the front door, past another poster with another Stepford child proclaiming that milk is better than crack. What is up with these people and dairy products?

  Once inside, the boy briefly gazes around in wonder at all the amazing things that are available for purchase (because everything is amazing when you’re ten years old, even air), then heads right to the little candy section, because there’s no point in living if you can’t have candy. Conveniently, the lead singer is right there next to the jars of sugary sensations, so he’s able to launch into the first bit of the song without being too intrusive. (Well, as unobtrusive as one can be when one starts bellowing lyrics in the middle of a quaint little shop for no apparent reason. Maybe this happens all the time in Australia, not sure.)

  Our Little Buddy tries to get the attention of the young woman at the checkout counter, but she’s much more invested in reading the personal ads in a newspaper and making sure she holds her head just right so her hair looks pretty for the camera that she’s not supposed to notice. Little Buddy just looks around the store and waits, mainly because the lead singer is hollering an important part of the song, and even little boys who want to stick something in their mouths know it’s a bit cheeky to get all insistent when it’s time for the chorus.

  This goes on for a while, with the camera basically ignoring Little Squat and Big Hair so we can get a nice close-up of the lead singer being devastated by the social carnage he has just witnessed, what with candy not being immediately available for those in need. (Big Hair does her best to remain in the shot, jostling around and waving the pretend newspaper that she normally doesn’t read unless unwanted customers arrive or a film company knocks on the door.)

  Brief shot of the candy jar, looking sad and unopened.

  Back to the lead singer, because he and his now-vintage V-neck shirt are not done yet. While he’s still warbling, the camera finally pulls back (oh, so the cameraman does realize there are other people in the store), and over his shoulder we can see that Big Hair has finally given in to peer pressure (we all eventually do) and is assisting the youngster, hoisting the jar and pouring out a measure of candy with the finesse of someone who has learned a technical trade roughly 20 seconds before the director yelled “Action!”.

  Whoops, it’s time for the chorus again, so Big Hair spends an inordinate amount of time screwing around with the packet of candy because she can’t do anything dramatic like fully satisfy the boy’s desires until the song is a little quieter. So she fiddles while Little Buddy burns until the lead singer and his apparently captivating eyes release the camera from his mental grasp.

  Then we’re suddenly outside the shop on the sidewalk, with a woman (or maybe a drag queen, let’s be equality-friendly here) tosses some coins into the open music case of a man playing an instrument, creating notes that sound exactly like the music in the actual song right about this point, so some artsy person must have been involved with the script for the video, a rarity even in those days. We spend more time with the street-corner musician than is really necessary (he’s blowing on something in his mouth, end of acting range) but it’s a nice break from the claustrophobic shop where people are singing really loud and staff people are petulant about having to work for a living.

  Okay, now we’re outside of a much larger building, with the lead singer walking alongside it and letting the wind caress his hair just right. He starts passing a long line of people leaning against said building, although it’s not clear why they are doing so. (Are they really tired? Are they waiting for candy, too?) One of them is not wearing any pants, so we’ve got a whole other video right there if the crew can stick around after this shoot is done.

  Just as the lead singer hits another dramatic part of his story and he strolls past a couple of women in the line who seem to be enjoying the afterglow of mutual frisky business, the camera pulls up and back so we can realize these folks are queued at the “Employment Centre”. Oh. Well, that changes things a bit. (I was expecting a dance club or a methadone clinic.) It also makes me a little sad that we don’t have live entertainment at unemployment offices here in the States. That would be so much more relaxing than the sounds of drive-by shootings, heated discussions over proper baby-daddy identifications, and weave-pulling.

  And we’re back outside the little shop, so the lead singer can warble about “standing on the corner” while he’s doing just that, more pleasant artiness, and then the camera pulls back with a flourish (the cameraman is definitely getting better as we go along, no longer setting the lens on the lead singer and then taking a coffee break). Now we have the whole band on that corner, with the massive drums taking up the most real estate, which is appropriate, since this is the part of the song where the booming percussion takes over and the lead singer does some more powerhouse vocals while raising his fists defiantly in the air.

  We get a close-up of the drummer, letting us know that he’s actually making that rhythmic noise, unlike most bands these days where somebody just pushes a button and a computer program does the actual “musicianship” part. But we can only watch the drummer for a short bit, because then we switch angles so the lead singer is in front of the pesky drums who are threatening to steal the show. (This is probably in the contract: “The talent must not be overshadowed by the equipment,  the cute children, or the happy lesbians.”)

  Lead singer launches into the thrilling part of the vocals where his voice gets even raspier and he makes strained faces so we can understand that this bit is some real singing, and not the spoken-word crap spouted by the Fifty Dents, Spit Bulls, and Nicki Massages of today. As the lead continues with the intensity of his devotion, we have a nice montage of the other folks in the band, people who actually participate in the making of music and don’t just wear cute outfits and pose for magazine covers.

  For the final stretch of the song, we first head back inside the corner shop, where Big Hair is doing something with the ancient cash register. (Probably trying to figure out how it works.) Then we cut to Little Bit still standing there without his candy. (Wait, we saw Big Hair wrapping it up, did she not give it to him? She’s being rude AND stealing from the company? She is so not getting the special parking place this month.) Then we wrap it up back outside, with the lead singer finishing the story and then bowing his head.

  In the murky background behind him, we can see the now-quiet drums waiting patiently. They know that sooner or later the lead singer is going to call in sick, and when that happens, they are going to storm the stage and take over the world. Because they had the beat way before the Go-Go’s claimed they did….

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Madonna – “Borderline”

  We start out with Madonna and a gang of friends all gathered round one of those areas where folks used to do spontaneous break-dancing back in the day, mainly because the Internet really hadn’t caught on just yet and people were bored. There’s a small child doing a backbend whilst Madonna, wearing trash-girl couture that was so popular back then, does some odd dance steps and then touches his hiney. In modern times, that would constitute child abuse and Madonna would get thrown in the Big House, but such overkill political correctness won’t happen for another twenty years or so.

  Then we have a montage of street-dance sequences, where Madonna gets to show off the fact that she can throw her leg over her head, and we get introduced to her lover, a man-boy wearing tighter pants than she is. Everyone seems to be having a very good time, or at least as much fun as you can have when people are spinning around on their backs with their legs in the air, when some snooty photographer guy comes waltzing up and crashes the party without an invite.

  Normally, this would require that one of the gang members get an attitude and pull a knife, but this isn’t reality, so the street folks just keep spinning and dancing unprofessionally while the photographer (let’s call him Hank) hands his business card to Madonna. We don’t know why Hank would single out Madonna, when most of the other folks are spinning and spreading their legs with much more gusto, so Hank must have a special fondness for the bandana thingy that Madonna has artfully woven through her hairdo that is bigger than Detroit.

  Well, Man-Boy doesn’t care for small pieces of cardboard being handed to his lady-friend, and he makes a small scene that implies we don’t need no paparazzi up in here. (Apparently he doesn’t know Madonna very well, since she’s dreamed of paparazzi since the doctor slapped her newborn ass at the age of 10 seconds.) Madonna gives him a look (and a shove) that makes it clear that she and her bandana are going to do whatever it takes to not have to dance on this street corner any more.

  Cut to Madonna hopping into Hank’s fancy car (while Man-Boy glares from what looks like a balcony in Barcelona, so there might have been some editing issues), and the next thing we know Madonna is wearing an outfit with extreme ruffles and screwing around with a giant ball while Hank takes pictures. (There’s also some business with Madonna wearing a leather jacket accented by a hairstyle jacked to Jesus, but it’s not clear if Hank is also recording that Madonna or if it’s just her auditioning for a Broadway revival of West Side Story.)

  Next up are some shots of Madonna and Man-Boy on a rooftop somewhere. They seem to be very much in love, or at least horny, and they proceed to admire each other’s wardrobe and then make out. Zip back to Hank’s photography studio/penthouse, where now we have Madonna traipsing around in another leather outfit amongst some fake Greek columns and a giant statue of a naked man. Hank seems to be encouraging her to twirl as much as possible, when he really should be advising her to brush her hair at least once a week if she wants to be taken seriously.

  Then we have a montage of Madonna in another frilly outfit that no serious person would ever wear unless under court order as she and Hank review the photos he has taken and they both guzzle margaritas. Apparently Madonna is quite pleased with Hank’s work, because she lustfully kisses him on the lips and they presumably proceed to have questionable sex while the giant naked statue reviews the proceedings.

  Cut to a phone booth, with Madonna back in her street gear, a colorful ensemble with a Keith Haring theme and more hair that has not received proper attention. She’s hanging up on someone, but we don’t learn who it is because we have to see another round of Madonna dancing back at the studio. This turns into an extended scene where Madonna uses all of her acting skills to show that she can wear an outer garment that is clearly too big for her and maneuver her way through the Greek columns without mishap or any damage to the artwork.

  Now we have Madonna (back in the Keith Haring outfit) standing on a street corner and chatting with several of her girlfriends, all of them sporting hairstyles courtesy of the Helen Keller Salon in SoHo. Man-Boy shows up and pouts whilst leaning against a lamppost and smoking a cigarette, because his part in the script wasn’t clearly defined and he’s winging it.

  Madonna finally wanders over and tries to make nice, but her efforts are thwarted by Man-Boy doing something with an unexplained pool stick and his obvious dissatisfaction with her sluttiness (people talk, you know he’s got the 4-1-1 on her banging Hank and his foo-foo photography accessories) and the fact that her hair is bigger than his. He stomps away and heads back into a building, leaving Madonna to fret and kick the innocent lamppost, like it had anything to do with her bedding choices.

  We go inside the building, where Man-Boy is playing pool (somewhat explaining the stick in the previous scene but not the manner in which he was fondling it), which is something some guys naturally do when their Former Squeeze is on the brink of international superstardom. Madonna appears in the doorway and tries to interest Man-Boy in her womanliness, or at least her more expensive couture, but he ignores her and keeps shoving balls into pockets. Madonna turns and struts away, apparently deciding that this is a part of her life that won’t make it into her autobiography anyway, so what’s the point?

  Back to Hank’s studio, where Hank is smirking and Madonna is twirling, not showing any signs of guilt about working her way up the corporate ladder. Cut to Many-Boy walking up to a newsstand, surprising all of us that he reads, and seeing Madonna on the cover of “Gloss” magazine. He snatches up the magazine and proceeds to another Barcelona balcony so he can pout some more and have flashbacks of those special fifteen minutes that he and Madonna had on that random rooftop.

  Studio once again, where Hank is trying to convince Madonna that she needs to wear an especially unattractive floppy hat for their next photo session. She doesn’t seem to care for it, but Hank gets her on his artistic-vision side by handing her a can of spray paint and letting her draw hearts on his fake marble wall. This appeals to she street side of Madonna, so she proceeds with the graffiti despite the stupid hat whilst Hank points and shoots.

  Madonna, who firmly believes in excess, gets carried away and accidentally spray-paints Hank’s fancy car during the ecstatic exuberance of getting to deface property that does not belong to her. Hanks gets all pissy with Madonna, despite the obvious stupidity of Hank parking his car in the middle of a photo shoot, and there is an altercation, one that presumably does not lead to wanton sex.

  Cut to Madonna waltzing down a darkened street, headed toward the pool hall where Man-Boy is still shoving a stick at balls and making it clear that he doesn’t have a real life or he wouldn’t still be there. First, Madonna greets her gal pals standing outside, because you always have to give props to your sisters or you get kicked out of the gang and you can’t have that kind of mess showing up in your autobiography, then she heads inside for the showdown with Stunted-Growth-Boy.

  Madonna and the Pink Ladies sashay their way past Man-Boy, who apparently hasn’t moved from his position on the table since Oklahoma became a state, and then Madonna tries to appear disinterested as she peruses the selections on the jukebox. (After all, Joan Jett advised us years ago that we should put another dime in the jukebox, baby, and peer pressure is really hard to shake off despite counseling and distance from your formative years.)

  Man-Boy rushes up to Madonna before she can insert anything into a slot, and they embrace each other fervently like Madonna didn’t offer her wares to the first guy who had more than just liability insurance on his car. To confirm their back-togetherness, we cut to Man-Boy showing Madonna just exactly how his pool stick should be handled to achieve the most satisfaction. We finish out with another shot of Madonna singing the final notes of the song and wearing that ill-advised floppy hat with the most annoying bow known to mankind…

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A Flock of Seagulls – “I Ran (So Far Away)”

  And here we go back to the early 80’s, when an amazing number of English new-wave bands consisted of very pale people wearing alarming makeup and hair that had been styled with a pitchfork. Ah, memories…

  We start out with the drummer kicking things off, wearing an outfit indicating he just left his day job, one where he is a chef in a trendy restaurant that will close within two months. Cut to lead singer Mike with his alarming, upswept hairdo that has more volume than some of the smaller countries in Europe, back to the drummer, and finally to the two guitar players standing in the middle of what we quickly learn is a rotating stage. The fact that the stage is constantly moving might explain some of the wackiness to follow, but I think drugs are still the underlying axis of evil here.

  The one blond guitar player looks like he could have been in the Wang Chung band if only he had listed the right things on his resume, and the brunette player made a seriously bad decision with his eyewear. Even at the time, when all of us cool-kid wannabees were wearing outrageous things because we were desperate for attention and we were drunk, I was still stunned by seeing the enormous pink sunglasses on this guy. Perhaps Nancy Reagan was watching this video when she came up with the “Just Say No” slogan.

  The stage continues to spin for a bit, making sure that we’ve been properly introduced to all the band members, and someone not making sure to place the surrounding disco mirrors so that we wouldn’t see the camera every time we twirled past it. Of course, this was the early days of MTV, when everything was experimental, and that experiment did not include black people or their music.

  Oh wait, now we have the first shot of singer Mike standing in front of several mirrors that replicate him and his hair in interesting ways. Initially this is very exciting, and we all applauded appropriately back in the day. But eventually we will lurch into overkill with the reflections, and you will want to destroy the mirrors with the will of your mind.

  Brief shot of Mike looking down at his keyboard like he has no idea what it is, even though he’s supposed to be playing the thing. (Dude, you’ve really got to learn to take your drugs in the right order, this was basic 80’s party etiquette.) Cut to Mike back with the multiple mirrors, and we get our first shot of multiple drag queens. Okay, there are only two of them, and they are supposed to represent the “girl like you” that Mike never thought he would meet. But the mirrors? They jack things up.

  At first, the girls and their trash-bag outfits don’t want anything to do with Mike, and they march away in formation. But they do pause to look back at us during the “hypnotize” bit of the lyrics, so we can see laser beams shooting out of their eyes. For me, this bit of unpleasantness would be a date-ender, but I suppose I can appreciate the laser beams since they will one day allow you to have your gall bladder removed without invasive surgery.

  More extended shots of the band spinning on the revolving stage (I can still see the camera, folks) and another close-up of the pink sunglasses that only Yoko Ono or the French edition of Vogue would promote. Then we cut to Mike and one of the Drag Girls trying to overpower his makeup with hers in front of the mirrors. Mike staggers around for a little bit and tries to weakly paw at one of the mirrors like it’s an exit door while singing “couldn’t get away”. We get another close-up of one of the Drag Girls, with her brick-size eye-shadow letting us know that she means business.

  More pink sunglasses.

  Longish scene with Mike playing the keyboards and looking absolutely terrified of us. Or the fact that if he moves around too much the shellac on his hair might break. But he’s a trooper, and he keeps singing, wailing the words about the “aurora borealis” coming into view, and then he looks up. Like he can see the sky while in a mirror warehouse. Quick shot of one of the Drag Girls, her expression indicating that she has more important clients to dominate later and we need to get this thing moving.

  Quick shot of both Drag Girls marching at us in formation, and I don’t think they want anyone to be happy.

  More shots of Mike and both girls in front of those mirrors, with him still trying to escape without any real dedication to the effort. (They’re only cheap-ass mirrors, man, just knock one of them over.) Thankfully, we cut to the Drummer Chef doing one of his solos, and there’s nothing like insistent percussion to take your mind off of things. As the music gets more lively and guitar-based, instead of makeup-based, we get to see pink flames burning at the bottom of the screen. Right under the guitar player with the wretched pink glasses. Symbolism, much?

  Brief shot of the Drag Girls indicating that they don’t appreciate the sudden prominence of the guitars or the low-budget special effects. This inspires them to march toward the camera in defiance of all things not about them.

  Back to the rotating stage, because such a thing probably cost a lot of money when Margaret Thatcher and her intimidating hair were in power, and they might as well get their money’s worth with the shoot. Mike is still playing the keyboards in a passive-aggressive manner, we can still see the camera, and the guitar players have not moved from the middle of the spinning wheel, afraid that if they do so they will be hurled closer to the Trash-Bag Tarts who learned makeup application from a brick-layer with a trowel.

  Another long scene with Mike (who may also know the brick-layer) and his vibrant red shirt and power hair riding the carousel. He does seem to be a bit more confident now, so he might have gotten his sea legs, but he still keeps closing his eyes more often than he should and his movements are very jerky. (People should only look like this when they are on the witness stand about a questionable homicide, not when they are making a music video.) Oh wait, he seems to have picked up an extra dance move, where he makes his hand look like a claw and attacks the keyboard like an outtake from Nosferatu.

  And we’re back to the Hall of Mirrors, with Mike submissively not really trying to escape from the Max Factor Twins. (This is getting a little old. Somebody just needs to become somebody else’s bitch so we can be done with this part.) Oh great, now the other members of the band have joined them, with all four guys unable to overpower two women wearing so much makeup that they can barely hold their heads up. (And still, no one thinks about just knocking over a mirror and heading to a pub for a pint or two.)

  We finally head into the last bit of the song, with another appearance of the low-tech pink flames (hey, maybe that’s the stage name for the Drag Girls!) because the guitars start wailing again. Brief shot of Mike and his keyboard being over it all, another visit with the Chef Drummer who really just wants to get back in the kitchen and baste something, and another helping of the pink sunglasses to keep us awake at night.

  Final shot is of Mike and his hair glaring at the camera.  He’s either really tired of spinning in a circle for hours, or he’s upset about the upcoming lawsuit where a judge will have to decide if he or Alannah Currie from the Thompson Twins owns the rights to their shared hairstyle…

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Poison – “Every Rose Has Its Thorn”

  Okay, folks, except for a little intro bit where people appear to be dissatisfied after a sexual encounter, this is mostly snippets of concert footage with no real story. So we’ll have to do the timestamp bit. Here we go…

0:04  Random shot of an alarm clock from 1938.

0:07  Gratuitous shot of Bret Michael’s nipples. (They later file a class action lawsuit for their share of the profits made from this video.)

0:15  Awkward shot of Bret’s armpit. (Checking that off the bucket list.)

0:19  Unflattering shot of Bret’s bed partner, with an expression that she is clearly unhappy about something. (Probably the sports bra that she unwisely chose to wear during the presumed sexual encounter.)

0:24  Who has more hair in this scene? Press “A” for Bret and “B” for unnamed nymphet.

0:32  Bret’s crotch, because a house is not a home until you’ve seen something like that.

0:37  A band member that is only staying awake to finish his cigarette.

0:42  Kesha?

0:46  Shot of nymphet’s butt. Why does she insist on wearing clothing that cannot possibly be comfortable? Those panties have got to be from the Spanish Inquisition.

0:53  Brett playing his guitar all alone on a stage that appears to be littered with empty condom packets. (Seriously, what else could those things be?)

0:59  Somebody wearing a hat but no shirt throws a green towel in anger. The towel will later seek therapy.

1:04  That’s a seriously big mouth right there, sure is.

1:13  I believe two members of the band are playing hopscotch together. Not sure.

1:18  Somebody has the Heimlich Maneuver performed on them, possibly against their will.

1:25  How can one person’s hair contain that much sweat? That could be another possible source of renewable energy.

1:32  A proposed new Muppet that was abandoned during the design phase.

1:40  The couture in this scene did not receive a stamp of approval from Vogue.

1:49  Random butt crack, plumber not involved.

1:50  A young George Michael  on the left, bad hairdo in the middle, and steroid abuser on the right.

2:10  Somebody driving really fast on a rain-drenched highway. Nothing bad can happen here.

2:16  More nipples.

2:19  Nifty bit where band members toss guitars across the stage. Just like a high school drill team, only completely not.

2:24  And another crotch shot, this one involving festive leather pants and a special camera lens that makes things seem enormously big.

2:29  Bret apparently hates chalkboards, and shows his displeasure by dousing it with the remnants of his cocktail. The chalkboard later sues for damages, and somebody ends up having to sell a house to settle the lawsuit.

2:25  Band member is beating the hell out of the stage with his guitar. People paid good money in the 80’s to see such a thing happen. Reagan was President. You do the math.

2:41  Daryl Hannah after a really bad bender.

2:46  More sweat cascading off the drummer guy. Shouldn’t he speak to a doctor about that?

2:53  Foot injury of some kind. But adult beverages are on hand. It’s all good.

3:16  Daryl Hannah breeds with rejected Muppet character, creating Exhibit A. Authorities study this for decades.

3:28  The one guy is still beating the hell out of that guitar. This does not appear to be a healthy relationship. Later, Dr. Phil will speak with the guitar and tell it to man up.

3:43  Flowers shoved in a plastic gallon of water, an open beer, a hair dryer, a guitar pick, a tiny towel that couldn’t dry anything, somebody’s belt, a can of Cheez Whiz, a musical instrument with startling pink accents, and what might be either a water fountain or an awkward bidet. I have no idea what this scene is trying to accomplish.

3:54  No one should ever wish for their hair to behave in this manner. For any reason. It cannot be justified.

3:59  Wait, did Poison perform on Broadway at some point? What’s up with that group bow?

4:04  Stripper pole on the stage. Need I say any more?

4:14  Star-spangled spandex. (Did I mention it was the 80’s?)

4:26  Debbie Harry on a bender, smoking a cigarette while Ross from “Friends” bandages her finger and wears an odd hat.

4:36  Bret leaves the stage, and begins prepping for his season on Celebrity Apprentice twenty years later. Where his hair will once again have to compete for best volume, this time with Donald Trump…

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Madonna – “Burning Up”

  Wow, this one goes quite a ways back, to a time in the early 80’s when I had the energy to dance all night but the only place I could afford to do that dancing was at Wal-Mart. Anyway, here we go…

  We start out with a close-up of one of Madonna’s eyeballs, which can be quite alarming if you’re not prepared for it, then we zip through what appear to be a string of random images. Flowers, lips, modified pickup trucks, a marble bust, and the first of many scenes where Madonna is wallering around in a random parking lot at night. This was made during a time when people who worked on music videos first discovered something called “the editing button”, and these people are whacking at that button like woodpeckers.

  Then we head back to that bust, the non-Madonna one, and we learn that it lights up, so that the eyes glow and it looks like something that menaced  William Shatner on an old Star Trek episode. I’m not sure how we’ll use this information in our lives, but we’ll see. Then we suddenly have Madonna, decked out in the leather and chains that she was so fond of as a freshman, lunging at the camera and then doing a few mad twirls, probably because the peroxide in her hair is still burning her scalp. Then she does something with her arm that makes a laser beam shoot at an otherwise innocent goldfish bowl. I guess she doesn’t care for seafood.

  Next up is a nice Risky Business tribute with sunglasses, followed by another visit to the parking lot, where Madonna is sitting on the ground and holding her legs to keep them from flying open. We get another shot of the sunglasses, which have now become radioactive because Madonna’s lust is so burning, and several more shots of the Parking Lot Madonna, who has finally stopped flopping around enough that she can model her dress for us, which appears to be something inspired by Roman togas, a cute little number that she can easily slip out of later in her career when she decides to pose naked as often as possible.

  Cut to some black-and-white footage where Madonna is supposed to be all sweaty with desire, but some makeup person must have done something she shouldn’t have, because Madonna just looks like she has malaria. The camera pulls back and we learn that Madonna is standing behind a heavy-duty X-ray machine that has enough lights flashing that somebody somewhere must have just hit a jackpot. That’s a little too busy, so we zoom back in to Madonna’s drenched head, and I guess she’s shaking off the malaria because now she has some color in her cheeks. Still a lot of wetness, though.

  Zip to somewhere else, where Sunglass Madonna goes into a dance that requires her to throw some of her many accessories around the room. (Based on the number of rubber bracelets she has on that one arm, this routine could go on for quite some time.) The main motif of the choreography has something to do with Madonna jumping around in a circle and clutching at her trendy half-jacket. Eventually she gets a little tired, so we cut to a dramatic sequence where Madonna is trying to open a door that has far too many knobs. Failing to get the damn thing open, she turns and just sings to us for a while, occasionally yanking on the chain at her throat to let us know that bondage apparently has a very special place in her heart.

  Brief bit where different eyeballs fill the screen. You can user your own judgment on that image.

  Then Bouncing Madonna is standing right in front of the complicated door, and just as it hits us that it appears to be shaped like a rowboat, it turns into one, which is really something that doors shouldn’t do, and suddenly we’re floating on a green sea with Toga-Dress Madonna resting comfortably inside it while she sings. This is followed by several shots of some guy driving an older model car, one of those barge-like things that can seat 12, as he races toward some destination. (Did he get word that Madonna has malaria?) He looks sort of like someone who might have gotten kicked out of Duran Duran for not wearing enough makeup, but that’s probably not important to our story.

  Time to check in with Parking Lot Madonna again, and she’s heavily involved in doing poses as if she’s a swimsuit model, despite the fact that she’s not wearing bathing attire and her ass is rolling around on asphalt instead of sand. (Could these people not afford to fly somewhere with a beach?) But at least she appears to be having a good time, and that’s all that really matters.

  Next up is an image of Madonna in the rowboat on the green sea, lying on her back and floating along peacefully, not bothering anyone. Suddenly, the Duran Duran guy drives by in his whale of a car, somehow managing to not sink as he plods along. (Maybe he used some of those rubber bracelets as floaties?) This is probably a political statement of some kind, but I don’t have enough dance training to fully understand it.

  Now we have a montage of Duran driving along less-watery highways, Madonna becoming super-heated in her Parking Lot of Lust, and Madonna suddenly disappearing from that rowboat (maybe she went to take out more insurance after nearly being killed at sea by a Buick?). Then we focus in on Parking Lot Madonna, who apparently still has a lot of naughty poses that she simply must get out of her system or she will implode. It appears that certain key moves help relieve the sexual pressure, like flipping her multi-hued hair around, crawling around on all fours, tugging in frustration at her clothing, and snarling at the camera whilst in the midst of presumable orgasm with an intensity that no one on the planet has ever experienced before.

  Meanwhile, Duran is still driving around, so I’m starting to think this is not someone you should call if you need him to get somewhere in a reasonable amount of time. His tardiness doesn’t really matter, though, since Madonna is still on fire in the parking lot and is happy to share with us even more ways one can express uncontrolled passion. (I’m surprised she isn’t physically riding the camera by now. I’m sure it crossed her mind.) This part of the her repertoire includes more hair-flipping, posing in a manner that reminds everyone she does indeed have breasts that have certain needs, and undulating in such a startling way that no one will ever use slot 12 in that parking lot again.

  The video comes to an end with slow-ass Duran finally arriving on the scene just as Madonna is eyeing the nearby shrubbery as possible relief, and even though we don’t get to see the discussion that immediately follows, things apparently don’t work out too well for Duran. The final shot is of Madonna driving the tanker away, all alone. I guess she doesn’t like to have sex with people who are wearing more eyeliner than she is…

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Bryan Adams - “Summer of ‘69”

We start out with a flashback of Bryan busting out the backdoor of a trashy trailer, lugging his guitar and shoving beer cans down his shirt, so we know this is probably not going to be Shakespeare. Cut to the rest of the band playing in a little abandoned warehouse, where most of the roof is missing and the camera is being shoved into the startling crotch of one of the guitar players. Nope, not Shakespeare.

Bryan comes running up to the group, and they start banging on their instruments and swigging beer, two things that just naturally go together. As Bryan hollers the lyrics, we watch the mess about “Jody getting married” and “knowing they’d never get far“, then the crappy building collapses and smashes one of the guitars. It’s kind of tragic, but we didn’t really know the guitar all that well, so it’s all good.

Cut to the present day, where Bryan is swinging in a hammock and apparently singing his issues to a geeky psychologist, who is scribbling madly in his little notebook but seems much more invested in gazing at Bryan’s conveniently “right there” crotch. This is only interesting for a few seconds, so I’m pleased when the hammock snaps, throwing Bryan’s ass to the ground and allowing us to move on.

And we’re back in the day with the black-and-white footage, at a drive-in movie theater, where Bryan slacks off on his job of painting the white screen, falls asleep, and is still on a scaffold when the movie starts. (I think this part is supposed to be funny, but we don’t quite get there. Sadly, this turns into a central theme for the rest of the video.) Some girl races up to drag him off the scaffold, a heroic action which inspires both of them to run off into a field and gaze at one an other with lust and admiration.

But the romance is short-lived, because we go back to color film as Bryan abruptly turns and walks away from her, leaving the poor girl standing there frozen and unsatisfied, then Bryan hops over a wall and we’re black-and-white again. Bryan and his delinquent buddies break into a grocery warehouse and start a food fight. (This was before cable TV, so there wasn’t anything else to do.) They hurl fruits and vegetables at one another with an aggressiveness that indicates somebody didn’t get spanked enough as a child.

A cop car pulls up, so Bryan and the boys hightail it, knocking over bushels of apples and oranges to block the path behind them. This sets up another supposed-to-be-funny bit, with the cops stomping on things and taking exaggerated tumbles, but all it really did for me was instill a craving for fruit salad. I guess you had to be there.

Color film again, with Bryan first stomping down some street, and then running back to that original crappy warehouse, which has somehow been resurrected despite probable court orders against doing so. The band gang is all there, and they rip into the song with swagger while the camera once again manages to find lots of crotch shots. (What is up with that angle, Director Person? What is happening in your life that you need to do this?)

The band plays for quite a while, with everybody grinning madly, a sure sign that there’s an empty bottle of tequila rolling around somewhere. (Or the super-tight jeans might be causing a tingling sensation, who knows.) The drummer seems especially happy to be here, pounding on the drums with a manic glee that would give most people pause. (But don’t they remember what happened the last time they got rowdy up in this grill. Damn place fell down.)

But I guess we’ll never learn if the building stays up this time, because the camera pulls away from the barn and we’re suddenly in a passing car, with Bryan’s brief former lover watching the band and smirking naughtily. Then we see she’s with some dude, and he wants to know why she’s staring all horny-eyed at the guys. She says it’s nobody, he doesn’t believe her, he slams on the brakes. And the video abruptly ends.

What the hell? Is this why some people don’t like Canadians?


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Whitesnake - “Here I Go Again”

There’s not a whole lot going on in this video, just the band playing on an empty stage and Tawny Kitaen having sex with luxury cars, so we’ll have to do the time-stamp thing…

0:01 Tawny and her flimsy, billowy white dress is introduced. She immediately proceeds to do entry-level gymnastics on the hoods of two cars.

0:08 The band does synchronized hand movements right on cue, so they were probably very popular at pep rallies in high school.

0:13 First appearance of lead singer David Coverdale’s hair. It’s a breath-taking moment.

0:19 Encore performance by The Hair.

0:28 Possible recreation of the final spaceship scene in E.T.

0:34 Tawny looks off into the distance, perhaps hearing a phone ring and hoping it’s her agent with a better offer.

0:49 Tawny prepares for a quick nap on a car hood.

0:54 Tawny compares headlights with the car.

0:59 Tawny might be confused about where to sit in a vehicle, but she can do the splits with a vengeance. Hey, gurl, hey.

1:08 Why does David keep shaking the microphone like it’s done a very bad thing?

1:11 Tawny invents a variation of yoga that replaces the mat with two car hoods. Toyoga?

1:18 Tawny decides there’s too much hair with both her and David in a speeding car, so she tries to escape out the passenger window.

1:20 First incident of David holding his microphone stand upside down and shoving it in the air. Turns out he really likes to do this. A lot.

1:25 The assumption would be that all the band members use the same hair stylist. Which is probably the lion groomer at the local zoo.

1:34 Tawny is straddling both David and the back of his car seat. She just loves everybody.

1:37 Tawny shoves her tongue in David’s ear, probably a reward for properly using his turn signals.

1:43 Tawny high-kicks for Jesus.

1:52 Tawny’s climbing out the car window again. Does she ever just sit still and read a book?

1:59 Does that one guitar player have any other expressions? I mean, so sorry that you apparently have a kidney stone, but could you suck it up for the camera?

2:02 Tawny magically uses her hoo-hoo to keep from falling out the car window.

2:10 Microphone stand is in the air again.

2:15 And again.

2:24 Where is all that smoke coming from?

2:27 Tawny has amazingly talented hair. (It’s bigger than that building behind her!)

2:37 Whoopsie, Tawny miscalculates and almost slides off the front of the car. Luckily, that special hoo-hoo of hers gets snagged on the hood ornament, and she’s good.

2:48 Did someone just shoot one of the guitar players. Rude!

2:55 Tawny shoves her entire head into David’s mouth.

3:02 That position can not possibly be comfortable.

3:10 Yet another guitar player (how many of those damn things do they need?) has an issue with his super-tight leather pants making him unable to stand on his own. He keeps playing, though, so he’s a trooper.

3:16 Oh my God, is that Jimmy Hoffa sneaking around on an upper level of the stage?

3:26 Tawny knows the words to the song, too. See, just because you’re beautiful and sexually-limber doesn’t mean you don’t have other skills.

3:29 Stand. In the air.

3:40 Tawny does a nice twirl while apparently getting a full-body x-ray.

3:51 Is that France up in there?

4:06 Tawny is startled by the sudden appearance of her missing panties.

4:16 One of the 147 guitar players licks his instrument. This is a relationship that he probably doesn’t talk about at family reunions.

4:24 Tawny pulls David into the backseat. I’m sure it’s just to form a prayer circle.

4:29 Crotch thrust and fade to black.


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