2000-03-06

The Wild Boys

Almost a full day into my vacation and I'm beginning to feel so...light. Airy. I'm rediscovering myself by sitting in front of my computer, unwashed and rumpled, giddily catching up with my writing and listening to copious amounts of Duran Duran.

There is always one thing that I am prepared to argue for, relentlessly and emphatically, and that is the Superiority of Duran Duran.

Let's look at the lyrics to one of my personal fave Duran songs:

The wild boys are calling on their way back from the fire...

Fire. Primal, earthen imagery runs amuck in Classic Duran Duran. Duran Duran made it hip to wear archeologist's gear, remember. Leggy models in face-paint. Sexy. Tribal. John Taylor's cheekbones. Duran Duran. Rrroowwwr.

...in august moon's surrender to a dust cloud on the rise...

Now this conjures up a more Western feel. A far cry from the steamy jungle images of earlier Duran Duran offerings. The Duranie is taken aback; it's not what she has come to expect. It is different; it is undeniably sexy. Arid. Oh yes.

...wild boys fallen far from glory...

Tragic. Duran Duran are the Wild Boys. So misunderstood.

...reckless and so hungered on the razors edge you trail

because there's murder by the roadside in a sore afraid new world...

I have no idea what this means.

they tried to break us, looks like they'll try again...

But they won't, Simon -- that's the thing, because wild boys never lose it. They never chose this way, Simon. Like I said: misunderstood. The love of a true fan will save them...

lisamcc at 16:48:41

previous | next