Hello and welcome to Videosyncrasy, a paean to the Music Video.
Oh, the music video, surely the greatest visual representation of our culture (popular culture at least) and of our cultural undertakings that exists. In nice four-minute packages. Though this is no anthropological investigation.
As well as a way of redeeming my hours spent/wasted watching TMF and 4Music (those music channels available on Freeview), when I could be partaking in more profitable things such as going outside or reading classic literature, I will in this journal journalise the fruits the medium has to offer. This may be by commending a video’s employment of cutting edge in cinematography, though it is more likely to be (and this is purely circumstantial) me poking fun at exercises in sheer humiliation for all parties concerned.
Speaking of sheer humiliation:
Ironik ft. Chipmunk and Elton John - Tiny Dancer (Hold Me Closer)
I have always marvelled at the trend of “hip-hop” artists sampling Elton John, and wonder, how on Earth did this trend catch on? When was the great turning point whereby suddenly Elton = cool? Or gnarly, whatever. Elton and his piano tunage don't exactly scream gnarly. I think Eminem and that Grammys performance of Stan must have something to do with it.
I also wonder what Dame John will have to say about this meisterwerk. Ironik and pal Chipmunk have long missed the EJ sampling bandwagon, though I shall persevere. The video is a classy affair, all in black and white. The lift door slides away to reveal the artistes, all done up in their dinner jackets and sunglasses. I know what you’re thinking, sunglasses indoors? Renegades! How cool are they?
They make their way down the corridor of a hotel that’s well plush, with chandeliers and everything. You would definitely get Molton Brown shampoo at this hotel. They knock on one of the doors, greeted by a very pretty lady. What awaits them behind that door? Just you wait. Oh, they’ve made it as artistes. They’ve arrived.
A dozen or so ladies dressed in leather, chains, etc., and the odd French maid (employees of the hotel perhaps?) arrhythmically writhe to the beats I ‘n’ C have laid down, clearly having the time of their lives. The girls pull one another along on dog leads, enjoying the odd fumble and kiss. Remember, this is a classy affair.
However, it does look as though the boys are a little out of their depth in this orgette. Chipmunk, or ‘Munk to his bredren, must be ID’d on a regular basis. He takes charge of the second verse, boasting his “ladies adjacent”. Adjacent? Gee, that’s a big word. That will definitely come in handy when he sits his English GCSE exam next week.
I would have thought that Elton’s presence circa 1975 behind another set of doors in this very special hotel room, where artistes go when they’ve made it, would be a bit of a buzzkill but the ladies are loving it. They’re also loving it when I ‘n’ C whip them with riding crops and shove black grapes down their gobs. S&M has made its way into the realm of the music video. Obviously the bitches-by-da-pool/Jacuzzi routine was looking tired.
Oh, they have arrived.
I just hope those DJs are rented. You don’t want to count your chickens, right?
