It had been a stretch of time since The Silver Surfer last wept. He viewed this more a sign of maturity than a sense of complacent jadedness. Considering his vital role in the cosmic universe, it was this sole concept that kept him sane. Especially now, as the threads of reality slowly unraveled descending Earth into uncharted dark deviance, the likes of which we have never seen before.
My disdain for Thompson Twins began on September 24, 1982. I was at the Aragon Ballroom to see Joe Jackson on the Night And Day tour. As the anticipation grew, the lights went down, and Thompson Twins took the stage. I was horrified as three stupid “new wave” haircuts began to prance around, out of sync on stage with tambourines and cowbells while a live band accompanied them from behind a screen. As they played on, I hoped that someone would pelt them into unconsciousness, anything to stop this ridiculous posturing. Thank God, Joe Jackson’s set washed that horrible taste out of my mouth.
October 20 would have been Tom Petty’s birthday. He missed it by 18 days. On the other hand, David Bowie died on January 10, two days after his birthday. Who is greater enlightened? The one who dies just before growing older, or the one who dies just after?