1982 (17 page)

“Under Pressure” has the distinction of being one of the few recordings in music history that no one hates. Trust me on this. It’s too good. No one hates the song “Under Pressure.” Think of the most famous song you can. Think of “She Loves You” by the Beatles or “I Will Always Love You” performed by Whitney Houston. Those songs have millions and millions of fans. But they have detractors, too. For every song, there is someone who for some reason hates that song. But no one hates “Under Pressure.” It is gold. Ask anyone. They may not consider it their favourite. They may not love it the most. But no one hates “Under Pressure.”

I have made a short list (or shortlist) of the six best moments of “Under Pressure” and the times at which they appear in the song:

1.  0.01—The top of the song features the iconic two-note bass line that may have been written by Bowie or by Queen bassist John Deacon. There is disagreement on who wrote it, but it’s unforgettable, and it would later form the basis of a sample by rapper Vanilla Ice that would lead to another, less interesting and slightly ridiculous, hit called “Ice Ice Baby.”

2.  0.57—This moment in the song is the first time Bowie sings his dramatic line about the terror of being aware of what the world is about in the pre-chorus. Few lyrics have been sung with such authority and power. This is Bowie playing Bowie.

3.  1.22—The beginning of the backup oohs that Bowie sings behind Freddie in the second verse. I imagine that Bowie winked at Freddie when he sang this part.

4.  1.30—Freddie’s improvised musical “bee bap” nonsense words heading into the second chorus. Freddie is singing with abandon. It’s so clear that this could not have been planned. It is one of the few moments in any modern rock song that features scatting.

5.  2.22—Freddie’s melodramatic climbing note on the word “why?” with Bowie echoing “love!” in the background. More drama will not be found in most epic films.

6.  2.50–3.32 The final crescendo with Freddie singing “give love” and Bowie pleading into the microphone about this being the last dance. Gold.

“Under Pressure” was a one-off masterpiece. By the spring of 1982, it was number one in the UK and had climbed to number three in Canada. It was also my personal theme song. That’s what I decided. To be fair, I didn’t know at the time that others had personal theme songs. I thought I had discovered the idea. In fact, I didn’t realize anyone else knew about personal theme songs until the emergence of Ally McBeal. You may remember there was a popular TV show in the late 1990s called
Ally McBeal
. It was the story of a quirky young lawyer and her adventures being very thin. Well, actually, the stories were about other things, but all everyone ever talked about was that she was very thin. So that was really pretty much what the show was about. But anyway, Ally McBeal had a theme song. A song she would have in her head that would get her through the day and shore up her self-confidence. For instance, one of her songs was “Hooked On a Feeling.” That was an upbeat 1968 tune performed by B.J. Thomas. I had a theme song just like Ally McBeal, long before that show even existed. And I
was also thin. But my theme song involved Bowie. And Queen. And being “Under Pressure.”

It made sense that “Under Pressure” became my anthem. It was my theme because of the pressures I felt caused by my ethnicity. It featured my idol and a great singer who was Iranian. There was never an official video made for “Under Pressure” that included Bowie and Freddie Mercury. So I always just imagined myself in it. Freddie Mercury could also be androgynous and would sometimes dress in tight outfits and effeminate garb just like Bowie. Jim Muffan would have probably called Freddie Mercury names in the hockey locker room as well. But Freddie was handsome. He didn’t have a particularly large nose. And he was a rock star. He was a role model.

Freddie Mercury seemed to know who he was. I didn’t have that luxury. I was confused in Grade 9. I wanted to be New Wave, but I wasn’t pale. I wanted to be accepted, but I was too different. I was told I was Aryan, but I was reminded I was brown. As I stood at the Police Picnic with my dream Bowie girl, I fought the inclination to believe I didn’t deserve to be there. Wendy had supported me against Forbes the punk. She had agreed to come to the concert with me, and she was showing signs of believing we were a team. But now, after the Joan Jett debacle, I had lost the comfort that came with toting my Adidas bag. I was unsure how I would recover.

5

“STRAIGHT TO HELL” – THE CLASH

T
he loss of my red-and-blue Adidas bag was traumatic. It certainly wasn’t expected. And it was the speed of its disappearance from my life that made things all the more intense. Within seconds, the deed had been done. My Adidas bag was gone.

Let the record show that in August of 1982 a punk named Forbes threw my Adidas bag containing my new Walkman, my mix tapes, my portable headphones, my hair gel, and my jean jacket onto the Police Picnic stage. And let it further show that after Forbes pelted my Adidas bag at Joan Jett, I never saw it again. It was gone forever. In fact, I knew it was gone forever, because not too long after the incident, Wendy said, “It’s gone forever.” I wouldn’t doubt Wendy.

The thing is, I never really blamed Forbes for the unsolicited appropriation of my bag. His actions were taken, I suppose, in the name of punk rock. He was an angst-ridden young man who needed an outlet for his rage. An outlet might involve beating up another kid or, in this case, throwing a bag. I would
later learn that these actions were understood as “cathartic expression.” I didn’t really know it as that at the time. I just knew he was punk rock. And given that Forbes was not a fan of the creative pursuits of Joan Jett, his behaviour was further understandable as “artistic protest.” So, I didn’t blame him, even though it had been my most prized possession. That is, even though my Adidas bag and I had been inseparable since the end of Grade 8.

You might think I should’ve been angry at Forbes—that I might’ve taken some kind of recourse. You might think I was too soft or forgiving. I know you might think that. Jane Decker probably would have started a lawsuit against Forbes. And Toke would have had his older brother, Mitch, turn up and kick Forbes in the teeth. And maybe it would have been wise to be tougher in front of Wendy. But I was developing a sense of the cultural order of things. I really didn’t know Forbes. And more importantly, he was a punk. He was a large punk. Actually, he was a large gorilla punk with a mohawk and combat boots. And he had prominent underarm hair. Basically, he was like … a real punk. And so, he was
supposed
to do things like steal a neurotic skinny kid’s Adidas bag and angrily throw it at a hit-maker pop star. That was his gig, even if it wasn’t very nice.

And surely I had given Forbes tacit permission to command my property by being foolish enough to stand next to him at a concert. I might as well have offered him the Adidas bag and given him my blessing. “Here you go, Forbes. Throw this!” Who did I think I was to expect any different? And what kind of punk would Forbes have been if he’d returned the bag to me and apologized? Forbes had to live up to his billing. I
wondered if I’d be more popular if I were more like Forbes. I wondered if I could ever be a real punk. I knew I’d probably never be a real punk if I was scared of real punks. And I was. This was a dilemma.

Forbes looked like a member of the Clash. Well, no. Wait. Forbes looked like an ugly member of the Clash. Or maybe he looked nothing like a member of the Clash. But he brought them to mind. And the guys in the Clash didn’t exactly have the matinee-idol features of Harrison Ford or Mark Hamill. Or Sting. Sting had a perfect nose and straight blond hair. And Sting had a high voice that could be pious and angelic. Sting had been a schoolteacher. In one of the Police videos, Sting appeared dressed as a schoolteacher. This was to remind us all that he had been a schoolteacher.

The Clash didn’t sing or look that way. The Clash borrowed heavily from classic outlaw imagery to position themselves as rebels. I didn’t know much about the Clash, but I knew that being in the presence of Forbes reminded me of the first time I’d seen them on
The NewMusic
on Citytv. They were wearing military garb and they looked angry. My mother had been in the room when the Clash appeared on
The NewMusic
. My mother had made a loud
tsk
sound and said
“Vah-ee”
in my direction. In this case, that was shorthand for: “Attention: This is your mother speaking. These shaved-headed political punk gentlemen don’t seem very benevolent. You should not be modelling yourself after them. Please stay away from these types and don’t get any ideas. Oh, yes, and another thing … why can’t you look more like Mark Hamill?”

See? My mother could say all that with
“Vah-ee.”
Okay. I just threw in the part about Mark Hamill. But she was
probably thinking it. My mother was quite efficient with her communication sometimes.

The Clash were a punk rock band from the UK, and they were very important. In many ways, they were the definitive British punk rockers, righteous and uncompromising about their left-wing ideology. Their fiery and idealistic outlook was in contrast to the nihilism of the Sex Pistols. And the Clash were more musically adventurous than most punk outfits that preceded them, mixing elements of funk, reggae, and rockabilly into their punk rock sound. But mostly, by the beginning of Grade 9, I knew the Clash were important because lots of mods and New Wavers had begun wearing Clash T-shirts, sometimes featuring cut-off sleeves. Clash T-shirts were popular among the theatre students hanging out near Room 213 as well. And there were Clash T-shirts being worn by punks at the mall. New Wavers appreciated the Clash, and many hard rockers begrudgingly admired them. Punks worshipped them, and almost everyone else who mattered understood that they were symbols of musical ferocity fused with integrity.

Wearing a Clash T-shirt was cool. So it followed that if you wanted to be cool, you wore a Clash T-shirt. In fact, wearing a Clash T-shirt was so cool that on some occasions members of the Clash wore Clash T-shirts so they would be cool, too. I had seen their lead singer, Joe Strummer, wearing a Clash T-shirt on
The NewMusic
. I later learned that the expression for this occurrence is “meta.” You see, you might catch the Clash wearing Clash T-shirts on TV or onstage or in a photo, and it was unclear if they were cool because they were the Clash or because they were wearing Clash T-shirts. But Clash T-shirts also looked cool when the Clash were sporting them
because … they were the Clash. I think this is what they mean by meta. It might be another word for “confusing.” But the point is, that’s just how cool the Clash were.

Here is a short list of some Clash T-shirt designs that were available for purchase in 1982:

London Calling
album cover T-shirt

“Revolution Rock” T-shirt (white images on black)

“Straight to Hell” T-shirt (featuring freaked-out monkey icon)

white star with circle featuring “The Clash” T-shirt