•If you ever step into the Wayback Machine and zip to the 1980s, you will have some interesting conversations, even though nobody will believe a word you say. You can tell people the 20th century will end without a nuclear war. The Soviet Union will dissolve, the Berlin Wall will come down, and people will start using these things called “ringtones” that make their pants randomly sing “Eye of the Tiger.” America will elect a black president who spent his college days listening to the B-52s.
But there’s one claim nobody will believe: Duran Duran are still famous.
• At the time, we all figured we were stuck in an Epoch of Bogus…But something has kept this all alive. And in retrospect, the Epoch of Bogus evolved into the Apex of Awesome.
• If you were famous in the Eighties, you will never not be famous. (In theoretical physics, this principle is formally known as the Justine Bateman Constant.) Any group that was popular in the Eighties can still pack a room.
I think that readers will enjoy this book to the degree that they agree with these statements; if you still think the 80's are bogus, nothing in this book will change your mind and it might leave you a bit annoyed at the misplaced adulation. I was never a Duran Duran fan, they were just too pretty or aloof, too other, for me, and one of the biggest surprises I found in this book is that none of them are gay. As a huge Boy George fan in the 80's, the gay thing wouldn't have turned me off; I only mention it to illustrate how little their presence on the music scene really made an impression on me. But sure, I can sing along when Rio or Hungry Like the Wolf comes on the radio, my kids probably can too, and maybe that means Duran Duran is technically still famous, but they are not the nostalgic touchstone for me that they are for the author.
Not to say that a trip in Rob Sheffield's Wayback Machine isn't worth the ride. Talking to Girls About Duran Duran is essentially a group of essays on being an [Irish Catholic Bostonite Nerd] adolescent in the 80's, and although each chapter is named for a song from the decade, the content of each relates to the song to varying degrees. Some chapters (HAYSI FANTAYZEE - "Shiny Shiny") are all about the music and some chapters (BIG DADDY KANE - "Ain't No Half Steppin' ") are more personal; in the latter example, about the author's relationship with his old Irish grandfather. In truth, I've never heard of either of these songs, or the artists, but in a world with YouTube, it's easy enough to get caught up. It was odd to discover that five or so years after Haysi Fantayzee had a hit with John Wayne Is Big Leggy, I was going to clubs dressed and dancing like the band's female singer, Kate Garner. That may just reflect how long a trend would have taken to get from London to Lethbridge…
Overall, I really enjoyed chapters that focussed on Sheffield's family, especially his sisters:
My sisters were the coolest people I knew, and still are. I have always aspired to be like them and know what they know. My sisters were the color and noise in my black-and-white boy world - how I pitied my friends who had brothers. Boys seemed incredibly tedious and dim compared to my sisters, who were always a rush of energy and excitement, buzzing over all the books, records, jokes, rumors and ideas we were discovering together. I grew up thriving on the commotion of their girl noise, whether they were laughing or singing or staging an intervention because somebody was wearing stirrup pants.
I was confused by how unfinished the chapter on his first real girlfriend, Renee, felt until I learned (after finishing this book) that he ended up marrying her, and their relationship and her early death are the subject of his first book Love is a Mix Tape. I'll need to check that out since the consensus is that it's Sheffield's best work.
I could totally identify with the author's love of John Hughes movies (with red hair and brown eyes I was a total Molly Ringwald wannabe), the earthmoving debut of MTV (…if we only got to see the mirror smashing in slow motion, this would be the perfect cinematic experience of my young life. Sweet mother of Christ -- the mirror!...), and experiencing technobeat at a European disco (although he went to Spain, I was in Florence at the Space Electronic Video Discotheque, which, as I have just looked it up, still exists).
I could totally not identify with cassingles (this took up a whole chapter and I've never heard of them -- did we not have them in Canada?), the Charlie Sheen movie Wraith (he gives the entire plot of this movie I've never heard of and I did. not. care.), and most especially, his undying love for Duran Duran (that he doesn't make a case for, you either get them or you don't).
In 1982, at the beginning of grade 10, my family moved to Lethbridge, Alberta and I was pretty lonely and friendless at first. There were a couple of freaky looking new wave girls who were friendly to me, and as much as I could have used their company, when they identified themselves as Durannies, I thought they were speaking a different language and I shied away. It may have been this discomfort that led me to stay away from Duran Duran, but I always had a smile and chat relationship with these girls. By the end of high school, I had totally committed to all the 80's fashion fads from neon to medallions at the throat of my button up shirts, and although I was friendly to everyone, the only people who really knew me were my close friends. At graduation, the cool girls who organised the party and the year book read out the Class Will, where they tried to include all of the graduation class, even those of us that they never even knew. There were plenty of inside jokes about who throws up the most at parties and who's a terrible driver and which couples would be together forever. My line:
R____ L____ leaves CCH his colourful artistic talents on canvas, but is getting a run for his money from Krista __, D_____ M_____, and V____ M_____, who all seem to give bright a new meaning.
So, these girls who didn't know me lumped me in with the two new wave girls, just because we all liked neon. It was astounding to me that to strangers I may have been just as freaky looking as the Durannies, but given the choice of hanging out with them or the cool girls, I'd choose the freaks all day long.
As for this book, I'm left thinking that a memoir needs to be either: a) So mind-bogglingly outside the realm of my own existence that I am fascinated by the details; or b) So universal that I learn something about myself through the evaluation of someone else's experience. Talking to Girls About Duran Duran falls somewhere in the middle, and I think that's where it falls short. It's too mundane to excite and too personal to relate to, but I could totally imagine writing a book like this; only the songs would be different, and I wouldn't expect anyone else to be interested in reading it.
I'll end on a positive, a quote I liked but couldn't fit in. After reading that David Bowie was reportedly bisexual, Sheffield thought:
I had no idea what either "reportedly" or "bisexual" meant, but I knew now that rock and roll was as sinister and excellent as I always feared it was.
Sinister and excellent, just like the 80's.
