On “This Must Be the Place (Naïve Melody)”

If you distilled Baudrillard, Derrida, Michel Foucault, Roland Barthes, Marshall McLuhan and Noam Chomsky into a band, chances are you’d get Talking Heads. They weren’t the first band to sing about consumerism or the media or the meaninglessness of meaning but they did it like nobody else. More Songs About Buildings and Food. Fear Of Music. Talking Heads were a virtual New York of the imagination, all skyscrapers and horns and fast-talking street vendors and cabbies. Like New York, geographically located in the United States but not completely of it, Talking Heads may have been associated with Punk and the New Wave but they were always tuned to a slightly different frequency, David Byrne fronting the band like he was hooked up to an ECG machine telling listeners about a van loaded with weapons and the sound of gunfire in the distance and the diminishing shelf life of identity and possessions.

this must be the placeThen in 1983 they released their fifth and most commercially successful album to date, Speaking In Tongues, with the single “Burning Down the House” peaking at Number 9 in the American Billboard charts. Despite this mainstream popularity, Speaking In Tongues lacked none of the groundbreaking edge of previous albums, with the band trashing the traditional verse – chorus – verse conventions of the song for more hypnotic signatures and beats normally found in gospel or jazz. And no better is this illustrated than in the final track of the album, “This Must Be The Place (Naïve Melody)”.

“This Must Be the Place” is a love song. Its simplicity – the enchanting, happy, catchy riff played simultaneously by both guitar and bass providing no counterpoint to the melody – verges on an asylum soporific, or a lullaby, with David Byrne singing the word ‘home’ over and over again as a kind of refrain. But its simplicity is deceptive. There’s a bewilderment to the song, a constant reassuring that home is where we are, where we’re supposed to be, and nothing’s wrong because one thing means the other. But it doesn’t. Not always. Everything about “This Must Be the Place” is slightly uncertain, vulnerable, baffled, reaching out for something to grab on to as we guess we’re OK, we guess we’re at home, we guess nothing’s wrong but not sure. It’s a lullaby sung to a newborn, with all the puzzled fear and apprehension a newborn has gazing out at a world full of colours, shapes and sounds. Being told it’s safe. Whispered. And you’re holding this newborn. A child you’ve participated in creating. Their tiny body slung over your shoulder as you lull them to sleep, burp them, their little head attached to their neck by a ribbon, their diffident creaks and yelps, now looking up at you with deep olive eyes saying…

You got a face with a view

I’m just an animal looking for a home

And share the same space for a minute or two

And you love me till my heart stops

Love me till I’m dead…

Byrne with lamp 3There’s a beautiful moment in Stop Making Sense, Jonathan Demme’s concert film of Talking Heads live in LA, where the lights go down, and the band begins “This Must Be the Place”. David Byrne turns on a ‘50s-style floor lamp with a pull cord, as a bookcase is projected onto a screen behind the band. Home. As the song ends, David Byrne invites the lamp to dance, and at one point reaches out Byrne with lamp 1with both arms and takes the lamp into his embrace and holds it there for a moment before releasing it to topple precariously on its stand as if finding its feet. Which it does. And the song ends. But Byrne’s dance with the lamp remains. There’s something going on here, like a coda that both closes and accentuates the meaning of the song. This awkward dance with the lamp, this fragile song about love, is as simple and hard as it gets. You make it up as you go along. Like the newborn asleep in your arms. You’re their shelter, their food, their answers, their love, their laughter, their safety, their home. It’s bedtime. You swaddle them carefully in a white muslin wrap, as David Byrne sings:

Never for money, only for love

Cover up and say goodnight

Say goodnight…

   Sean Macgillicuddy

  • “This Must Be the Place (Naïve Melody)” (1983). Label: Sire. B-side Moon Rocks. Lyrics by David Byrne music by the band from the album Speaking In Tongues
  • Stop Making Sense (1984) concert movie directed by Jonathan Demme shot over the course of three nights at Hollywood’s Pantages Theater.

Harry

Sean has just welcomed his new son Harry into the world. 

A Little Gypsy in my Soul: Maria Vantsos

VANTSOSdesign Jodhpur  Rajasthan, India

 

To epitomise the spirit of January’s Embark edition we bring you an interview with Australian travel photographer Maria Vantsos whose flair for bright colour and bold images caught our eye at the Kiribilli Markets in Sydney earlier this month.

 

A Little Gypsy In My Soul is Maria’s collection of fine-art photography featuring far-off lands, exotic streetscapes and bold portraiture that celebrate the raw essence and aesthetic beauty of colour and culture around the world. Her range of display options allows you to choose a single stand-out canvas print or, our favourite, create a wall display of signature block-mounted tiles.

Maria talks to us about her process, her inspiration and the uniqueness of Australian travel culture.

 

We’ll start at the beginning. What brought you into this line of work?

When I was 22, I decided to take a year off from my studies to travel through South America with my older sister. I was studying graphic design at the time majoring in black and white photography. ‪‪Landing in Mexico to kick off our adventure changed that very quickly. Early one morning as we were travelling out of the city and down a dirt road our bus pulled over to pick up some locals and as the fog was lifting and I was awakening to a new day, I looked out of my window seat to see a line of native women in fluorescent pink ponchos and brightly coloured yellow bows tied around their long plaits, zigzagging down a lush green mountainside. I was in awe! I saw art, I saw the boldest of colours playing themselves out within a moment in everyday life. I remember thinking how beautiful it was to ‘see’ the world in colour. After many more trips overseas and friends complimenting me on my photography, I haven’t looked back. I started with several cafe exhibitions where my passion for combining travel, photography, and colour & culture into wall art has grown from there.

 

Your use of colour to evoke the soul of a place is remarkable. Can you describe your artistic process?

Thanks!

‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪’A Little Gypsy In My Soul’ now creates bold, rich fine art photography which celebrates colour and culture around the world! My passion and the challenge is to ‘see’ what can so often be missed‪‪‪‪… weathering paint, a hanging water urn, a passing moment. My body of work is an artistic approach to the celebration of colour but more than that it is also a documentation of tradition, culture, religion, tribe, and an identity unique to that country…. through people and place so much of what is disappearing due to globalisation can be frozen in time due to the power of photography.

‪‪‪‪My photos are featured onto our signature wooden tiles and as fine art canvas prints.

 

VANTSOSdesign Rajasthan, IndiaYou seem to have genuine passion for the places you visit. How do you decide where to travel and what to photograph?

It’s really inspired by how colourful a country is,‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪ where that character of culture and spirit is still predominant in everyday life. Mexico, Morocco, Cuba and India are some of the most fascinating and visually stimulating countries to explore. I also enjoy returning to countries I have previously travelled to years before. As I grow and change over the years my vision of what I’m inspired to capture also matures.

 

In your experience, do you think Australians have a particular interest in travel culture?

Absolutely! Particularly‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪ because we have grown up within a highly multi-cultural society and that exposure to so many different faces and facets influences many to want to explore further. Being so isolated from the rest of the world when we adventurous Aussies travel, we really like to spread our wings‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪!

 

As an artist do you work with anyone else or have you collaborated before?

No, I’m a one woman band, just me and my camera and the wide open road!

 

It seems you have visited some truly exotic places. What’s on the cards for 2015?

Returning to India to photograph the holi festival which marks the end of winter in early March. They welcome in the spring with throwing colour bombs at each other, so I can’t wait to be within the thick of it all to live and capture this amazing experience. ‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪I hope to travel through Vietnam towards the end of the year. I will also be spending the year designing new products featuring my photos so stay tuned.

 

VANTSOSdesign Yellow Rajasthan, IndiaCan you tell us about your current range and maybe highlight some favourite images?

I am currently in the process of working on my new collection for 2015 which I am looking forward to sharing soon.

There will be a feature range of photos from Morocco and the Greek Islands,‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪ showcasing my work from the last trip I did to these countries. It will also feature a new selection of photos from all around the world from previous trips. One of the highlights of my previous catalogue was featuring a beautiful sequence of different coloured turbans and saris I shot through India (pictured).

 

We met at the Kirribilli markets but you display at other retail venues throughout Sydney. Where can people get hold of your work?

I retail at Paddington/Bondi beach markets in Sydney every weekend and around Australia through various homeware and online stores such as Temple & Webster. ‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪‪My work can also be purchased from my website at www.vantsosdesign.com.au

Elise Janes

My World Through Stories

free-antique-style-world-map-computer-pictures_2269047

An imagined world

Montreal, Canada

Meditations, Marcus Aurelius
Peter Pan, J.M. Barry

I studied part of my literature major in a fall semester at McGill University. We arrived in the summer, after a month travelling west coast USA, and the musical city was intoxicating, ringing with Quebecois French, wild celebrations, strange experiences and layers of history. I had four lit subjects, each requiring a text a week. My book/play/poetry collection was too heavy to ship home so I sold most of it to a Canadian friend one snowy night before Christmas. He gave me his personal copy of Meditations in return, to this day one of my most treasured literary items. Of all the wonderful texts I read throughout the shockingly beautiful fall several stand out to me, but for some reason none more so than the original Peter Pan, which I studied along with Romeo & Juliet and My Own Private Idaho for a comparative essay on boy gang culture.

 

Calgary, Canada

Beauty Tips From Moose Jaw, Will Ferguson

Obtained from a hostel bookshelf in Calgary on a solitary trip to the Canadian Rockies, one of many expeditions out from Montreal. I read this at the start of my Canadian residency and the quirky anecdotes and bizarre historic detail established in me a new respect for the cultural diversity of the great maple-leaf nation.

 

Paris Eurail Trip

The English Assassin, Daniel Silva

Purchased in a second-hand bookshop in Montmartre for three euro it was one of few English-language books on offer and elicited a patronising smirk from the bearded shop-guy. Not my usual fare, it turned out to be a fantastic scenic parallel to our trans-European journey. And the heroine was a violinist convalescing in Portugal.

 

Sola Voce European Tour

An Equal Music, Vikram Seth

The tomb of Monteverdi is in Basilica di Santa Maria dei Frari, Venice

The tomb of Monteverdi is in Basilica di Santa Maria dei Frari, Venice

One of my all-time favourite books, as much for the time of life in which I discovered it as for the story itself. I bought a second copy from a bookshop in Montreal and reread this during a tour of Europe with a chamber choir from the University of Queensland. Violin was my major degree study so I felt an intimate connection with the protagonist and the way music, both craft and passion, was an inseparable part of his identity. His string quartet performed in Vienna and Venice and our choir toured to these places and more, the pieces we sang becoming a soundtrack to our incredible experiences just as the music Michael plays parallels his doomed love affair. The writing is astonishingly beautiful and full of melancholic depth and I’ve never read another author who has such a nuanced understanding of the intricacies of Art music practise and the lesser-performed masterpieces of the Western canon.

 

Oahu, USA

On the Road, Jack Kerouac

On my second trip to Hawaii I had just finished Kerouac’s famously meandering roman á clef. Though it had little connection to Oahu it nevertheless leant a deeper magnificence to the Pacific sunsets.

 

Penang & Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

On Stranger Tides, Tim Powers

I have a thing for pirates and so does Malaysia, whose history is drenched in nautical mishaps and adventure. A perfect book for resort poolsides, a Singapore sling in one hand and a view of the Straits of Malacca before you.

 

Piazza del Campo in Siena, Italy

Piazza del Campo in Siena, Italy

Siena, Italy

Under the Tuscan Sun and Bella Tuscany, Frances Mayes

As part of an extensive overseas trip we spent a week in a villa in the Sienese countryside. It was as exquisite as it sounds, made all the more so by Mayes’s portraits of Tuscan life and epicurean recommendations. Thanks to her we discovered an antiques fair at the top of Arezzo hill and the pure delight of fava beans with pecorino fresco and local sangiovese.

 

Paris, France

A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway

Having read The Sun Also Rises for my lit studies, invoking an endless love of Hemingway, it comes as no surprise that one of the greatest moments of my life was purchasing A Moveable Feast from Shakespeare & Company before walking in the rain along Rue Mouffetard.

 

Vernazza, Italy

Cloud Atlas, David Mitchell

I found this book while revisiting a little apartment in Vernazza, Italy, on the last leg of a world trip. This was before it became a hyper-marketed movie so I had no idea what to expect. I’m still not sure what to make of it, but the novel reads a bit like a travel narrative touching on various parts of the globe and traversing huge spans of time. For me it evoked a similar feeling to travelling around the world, that anchorless, ageless sensation. The musical tale of Robert Frobisher was a special gem for me, as was the seafarer’s bookending narrative.

 

New York City, USA

The New York Trilogy, Paul Auster
The Elements of Style, William Strunk, Jnr, & E.B. White

On my third trip to NYC my husband and I spent one week in the East Village and another in Green Point, Brooklyn. Every minute was perfect, and littered with literary memories. The shelves of our East Village apartment were full of contemporary sociology books, and I spent a glorious morning in the JP Morgan Library & Museum, and an equally glorious afternoon wandering the hallowed halls of the Public Library. Not to mention McNally Jackson in Soho, the Met rare book collection and the gorgeous bookshop attached to the MoMA. I bought Auster’s trilogy in the gift shop of the Whitney Museum and reading it later was amazed at the true New York-ness of his hyper-realistic style. Another grand life-moment was purchasing the latest edition of Strunk & White’s style bible from The Strand.

 

Pool deck of the Eastern & Oriental Hotel

Georgetown, Malaysia

The Quiet American, Graham Greene

It’s fair to say Penang has stolen my heart, in a manner on par with New York City and Rome, due in no small part to its 20th century literary heritage. It’s one of few places in South East Asia that bring together many extreme historic influences because of its unique geographic location: sitting at the heart of the shipping lanes that bore the lifeblood of world culture for more than 3000 years. Penang counts in its history an ancient Austronesian settlement, a Persian dynasty, the oldest Sultanate in the world, a port for the Dutch East India Company, a British colonial fortress, Chinese opium wars, and Japanese occupation in WW2. Greene’s book is set in Vietnam but finds its place alongside many authors of that era who were fascinated by the South China Seas, such as Anthony Burgess, Somerset Maugham, Joseph Conrad, Rudyard Kipling and Noel Coward. I read this book with my mother on the pool deck of the Eastern & Oriental where Maugham himself penned several novels.

Elise Janes

On “Strange Fruit”

punksingerThe Punk Singer is a 2013 documentary about iconoclastic singer/songwriter Kathleen Hanna. The movie charts her brilliant, sad, radical, and sometimes violent trajectory across the musical landscape of the American Northwest in the ‘90s. Her limelight began in 1990 fronting the hard core 4-piece Bikini Kill. When criticised for not being able to play their instruments, the band’s response was simply ‘And?’ They  were part of the make-it-up-as-you-go-along ethic of politics, fashion, music and art that owed as much to the Punk vanguards of the ‘70s as it did to the Beats and Dada. Kathleen Hanna was Punk as Kathy Acker was Punk. Barbara Kruger. Her music was the Revolution Rock revived from its reggae roots by the Clash. With Kathleen Hanna, the protest song was taken to a new velocity, with new levels of impact and immediacy, but her musical and political genealogy ran deep, beyond Punk and the protest movement of the ‘60s, to Blues, and Jazz, and perhaps one of the most beautifully haunting protest songs of all time. Billy Holiday’s “Strange Fruit”.

strangefruitsmall“Strange Fruit” was written by Abel Meeropol, a Jewish high school teacher and member of the Communist Party in New York. It was first sung by Holiday in 1939, 15 years before Rosa Parks refused to surrender her seat on a bus to a white person inadvertently kicking off what history remembers as the Civil Rights Movement. The song is a simple, poetic, and deeply evocative protest against lynching in the South, where, amidst the fresh scent of magnolias in the breeze, black bodies swing from the poplar trees.

“Strange Fruit” was considered so hot at the time, so incendiary, Billie Holiday’s record company Columbia actually released her from contract, for one day, to record it. (It became her largest selling album.) When she first performed it at Café Society in New York’s Greenwich Village, it closed her set. The manager had all the waiters stop serving, threw the entire room into darkness with a single spot illuminating Holiday’s face, and she sang the entire number with eyes closed, as if in prayer, lamenting:

The bulging eyes and the twisting mouth

Here is the fruit for the crows to pluck

For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck

For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop

Here is a strange and bitter crop…

(Meeropol, 1937)

Billie HolidayBilly Holiday’s “Strange Fruit” is a very different scream to Kathleen Hanna’s bullet vocals trashing the hypocritical mores of sexuality and violence and celebrating the wild autonomy of feminism, but the punk girl’s anger grows from the same soil as the blood soaked poplar trees of the American South. In “Strange Fruit”, as Billy Holiday reaches the final word of the final phrase, her voice lifts. Like the opening of a window. Because within every hard core protest song is also a song about freedom and possibility.  As Kathleen Hanna points out in The Punk Singer, there’s no point singing about revolution unless you can dance to it.

Sean Macgillicuddy

Meeropol, Abel. (1937). As “Bitter Fruit”. The New York Teacher (ed. unknown). New York.