Sunday, January 25, 2009

Richard Clayderman Is Not Dead/”The Life Of Repo Man Is Always Intense”

I never in my life though i would be searching in Wikipedia for Richard Clayderman, the patron saint of every annoying bar pianist that dare give us the dullest and blandest versions of the most well known piano pieces in existance.

In an event that turned out to be an urban legend, it was said during the late 90’s that Mr. Clayderman was dead, unable to join Yanni and Kenny G to reap the fruits of supermarket music and yuppie poseuring stardom, which seemed quite odd and out of character for such an artist; then, it’s 2009 and lo and behold, i gaze at a giant billboard on top of a building announcing Mr. Clayderman’s show for February 14, Valentines Day. So i think a ghost will be playing for true and pretend lovebirds, one which takes all the soul out of the piano and gives us back a very well mannered corpse to consume.

And guess what else? The ghost’s name is not even Richard Fucking Clayderman, it’s Philippe Pagès; that doesn’t make him sound like a sensitive wrestler at all!! the way, stop acting as if Mickey Rourke just crawled out of his own grave, he was amazing as The Cook in Spun.

Not many people can really brag that they got their title as “Prince Of Romance” from Nancy Reagan, and i never thought RC fans really cared about original pressings and reissues, but thanks to Wiki-wiki-wild i know...isn’t technology great?!

But, to make this post worthwhile, let me tell you about Repo Man; weird, B movie-ish but surreal and at times incredibly hilarious and all around entertaining piece of cinema that you can watch over and over again, also quotable as fuck. Iggy sings the title song, the Circle Jerks play in a bar scene, polyesther suits and everything, a sort of loungy version of “When The Shit Hits The Fan” (and it’s the Earl Liberty & Chuck Biscuit lineup, no less!), dude from the Plugz scores the movie; fucking classic fun weird trip, and i looooooove it.

PS: Does Richard Clayderman have any album cover where he isn’t leaning over his piano and resting his elbow in it? He's like the Immortal of the new age shit, always on the cover of his own records.

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