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Feb. 14th, 2007

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Life On Mars is about this 21st century detective who goes into a coma and finds he's suddenly a 1970s detective. It's a great idea-  a remake of The Sweeney plus lots and lots of lovely irony.

I was in my twenties through the 1970s and  don't remember them too well. I remember the 50s and the 60s and the 80s and the 90s but the 70s sort of passed me by. I was too busy with my shiny new marriage and my shiny new career to  pay much attention to the zeitgeist.

Were things really so grubby and depressing? Were racism and sexism and police violence really so routine? Well, like I say, I don't remember. But I know the sun shone occasionally because I've got the pictures to prove it.  1976, for instance, had a record-breaking heatwave summer. It was my first year in Manchester and I was expecting rain and cold and fog and what I got was day after day of mindless sunshine.

But it's weird when an era you've lived through gets the full heritage treatment on TV. For the makers of Life on Mars- who were kids at the time- the Britain of the 1970s is some sort of strange, exotic, lost world- and they just revel in the clothes and the hairstyles and the cars and the big clunky telephones.  For me it's nothing of the sort, just a stretch of time- continuous with the present - that I happened to live through. And it doesn't seem so long ago either. Are Space Hoppers already 30 years in the past? Well I never!
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Image:Edouard Manet 031.jpg

BIG ROCK CANDY MOUNTAIN

After Baudelaire

 

Hey, baby sister,

Dream what I’m dreaming,

Lets go live out of town

We’ll screw and we’ll skive

For the rest of our lives

In a country pretty as you are.

The sun is fuzzy

The air is muggy

It kinda makes me think

Of your uncanny

Cheating eyes

That  glisten when you weep

 

Everything there is bright and homey,

Cool as death and sexy-sexy.

 

We’ll get our sticks

From the antique shop

And do up our room in style,

The hot house flowers

Will fill the house

And the joss sticks smoke all day.

The floors will shine

And the mirrors gloom

In the oriental style.

And all these things

Will settle our nerves

Like a mother with her child.

 

Everything there is bright and homey,

Cool as death and sexy-sexy.

  

The barges down

On the old canals      

They really like to travel

But here they’ve gathered

To do your pleasure

From every part of the world.

The setting sun

Is slathering

The world with wildflower honey

The fields and streets

Are fast asleep.

Lets go to bed now, baby.

 

Everything there is bright and homey,

Cool as death and sexy-sexy.

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poliphilo

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