Kate Bush is without a doubt one of my all-time favorite ladies and fellow musicians. All-time. ALL-TIME. She makes me feel dumb beyond measure, deeply concerned, absurdly amateurish, heavy as the ocean, light as lint, dreamy, vague, confused, energized, lustful, half-smart, and magical... but never bored. Kate Bush, unlike, say, Patti Smith, never makes me feel bored.
[Side note: Though Smith's Horses is indeed a peerless work of art and entirely mind blowing from start to finish, nothing may make you feel quite so bloodless and sleepy as hearing Patti blab her face off on "About A Boy," her blowhard tribute to Kurt Cobain. No really, try it some time!
In all honesty, I can't recall ever having seen anything more cringe-inducing than Smith performing this "song" (aka tone poem) at the Seattle Center many, many years ago. Nor since. The ladies of Sleater-Kinney were her backing band. Feeling terrible for them, I held my face through the entire million-minute-long ode, fearing my brain would cave in and my face would slide right off my face. Slack-jawed and awed by the staggeringly doting and juvenile quality of Smith's lyrics and delivery. Committed, no less, on KISW's semi-legendary Pain In the Grass stage. Grungetown holy ground unwittingly defiled by a pre-grunge icon — wonderful.
Even now as I think back on it my heart flutters a bit and I feel a tidal wave of anxiety rise up in my breast. No really, you may laugh, but it was that fucked up. Maximum cheese ball dumb chills. Life gets momentarily very weird when you come upon a terribly self-serious rock icon acting like a boob in public, especially when that icon is as unflinchingly convinced of her own profundity as Patti Smith.]
Anyway, back to Kate Bush.
Actually, onto Baby Kelley. Tonight she emailed a Youtube link to a video for "Wuthering Heights," from Kate's 1978 debut album The Kick Inside. It is a masterpiece of deep weirdness, referencing Emily Bronte's characters Heathcliff and Catherine from the novel of the same name. Red dress, matching red tights, color coordinated brown cumberbun, startled facial gestures, coy glances, creepy choreography, creepier wailing vocals, half-assed fog machine, damp set location, ... basically, the video rules on every level.
Once you take into account that Catherine may well be a ghost banging at Heathcliff's window, begging to be let in... listening to the song becomes invariably a bit more exciting. Especially when you further consider that Bush wrote it when she was just 18-years old. Good job Kate! It's like an abstract book report set to music.
Anywaaaaay (Part II), here's the text from Baby Kelley's email, no less equally exciting and scary:
"mysticalkelley has shared a video with you on YouTube:
INTERPRETIVE DANCE MOVES BUBBA!!
IT'S THE STORY OF WUTHERING HEIGHTS!!!
IM GOING CRAZY!