Roxy Music

For Your Pleasure

Roxy Music was a band that conveyed moods of incredibly strange luxuriousness; something that wasn’t really happening music-wise in the 70’s. Especially in America, all a listener at that time heard was ambiguously stupid lyrics, or was it just plain bad equivocal singing? It sounded like those country accents were faked and if I may be so blunt, the most you gained from 70’s tunes was an in depth look inside a pickup truck—the Eagles for example. Or the listener came by faked mysticism like Led Zeppelin; bands so spiritual that their incense candles burnt their minds. This was not intelligent music by any means. England was also having its problems with the pop scene. Mod had at that time gone out and there was nothing left to replace it ,except for some incredible fashion, or in other words Roxy Music—just one band. I think Bowie picked it up from them and made a whole type of scene out of it. Glam rock. Many people listening to Roxy Music now rightly feel that no matter how good Bowie was (he was damn good) he still was not as multi dimensional and great as Roxy Music. Maybe that band was too satisfactory and adept at what they did because their tunes were not really being listened to in America. Bowie’s were. I see the glam rock movement as being a type of war, albeit a calm one, in the pop arena known as music. Think of it as if it were the space race but replace Russia with England; America wanted to be one up on them. Roxy Music would be perfect to listen to in space. Their anomalous sound could be heard anywhere, it was so transient. It was a great commodity created by several people. An androgynous keyboardist named Brian Eno, a guitar player named Phil Manzanera who came up with languorous sounds, a bass player named John Porter (there seemed to always be a new bass player), the sexy sax sound of Andrew MaKay, the spiked drumming of Paul Thompson (complete with electronic overdubs), and the singer Bryan Ferry.

The album I am about to describe is titled For Your Pleasure. It was the second Roxy Music album and I feel it was their best effort. It really is glorious and a beautiful listen. I’ am going to try to describe it in some detail (no, not the production stories behind the work of art); bear with me because it’s going to be a bumpy ride full of meanderings inspired by the band.

The album begins with a note that sounds obliterating, but the song then comes into fruition and it’s full of life. The whole album takes off from this example; the singer Bryan Ferry knows that he has to entrance the listener because the songs always start off so bleakly. Here’s a singer that looks just like a lounge lizard and yet sings like a fish underwater. You can hear the gurgling through bubbles in his voice.

The tune Do the Strand is quirky as hell (what else can you make out of a line like “weary of the waltz and mashed potato schmaltz” except for the fact that it’s a great funny line) and contains a myriad amount of sex scenes. Visuals like people doing indescribable acts on the top of tables are mentioned throughout the song, comfortably—it was the seventies after all. The tune is about all the new dance crazes and how they do not work—the band’s saying here’s one that does. The line “tired of the tango” refers to why the band exists—to bring a new feeling into music and culture.

The next song on the album is so glitzy, how can you not love it? Its title is Beauty Queen and it epitomizes a literate form of glitziness, where you don’t have to see it; you can only imagine it from the lyrics. It also seems to be more of a representation of the cover art than any of the other songs. The cover depicts a sultry woman dressed in black leather, of course with stiletto shoes and of course having a black leopard as a pet. The animal is so dark that you can hardly see him in the inkiness, save for his bright eyes and sharp teeth. There’s a lot of sensual menace on the poster and plastered behind them is Las Vegas—these creatures were presumably homegrown there. This is the only hometown that could incorporate them. You can see Bryan Ferry in the distance in his car and he looks excited. Who could blame him?

The next song is titled Strictly Confidential, and it’s a passionate tune that could have possibly taken place a long time ago—no one wrote letters like this in the seventies—but there were many disposed sad souls during that time and I think Bryan was one of them. However, he doesn’t quite divulge his feelings and that’s good. He shows us his most romantic thoughts—his most purple prose—and the band is traveling with him in the subterranean Lawentian atmosphere—it must have been arduous and easy at the same time for them.

The next song Editions of You is a hell of a lot fun. The man is strolling the streets. This particular song and the album shows the plus and negative sides of being engrossed with pleasure—not so much with one girl. The duality with having a creative life full of expression—writing and singing songs—and getting the reaps of benefits. Is Eno trying to sound the alarm on the keyboard on this one? The guitarist Phil Manzanera calms and consoles him. It’s a leading down tunnels song—maybe showing the creative Ferry process. It’s uncle Ferry’s advice to his nephews.

The next song on the album is called In Every Dream Home a Heartache. Talk about singing in an imperturbable sang-froid like state. The man knows everything about what goes on into making a house. Every room is an experience full of insight and loss. An essay on the band and the themes of luxury and how it leads down terrifying roads, appears to be the band's thesis statement here if there is any. The terror is comfortable and lively—the doll in the song may indeed be alive—this tune is the anti Comfortably Numb. The band then losses control. When Ferry sings, “dream of heartache,” it sounds like the other line he says is alcoholic but I could be wrong—either way you get the point—the man is obsessed and addicted—he’s making a style out of it like Al Pacino.

Lawrence would have been proud of The Bogus Man which is the next song on the album. This tune is all about a man trying to control his emotions—they are turbulent. Roxy Music says fuck that smoothly—spine tingling like out of a lacquered horror movie—there have been no good ones so far in my mind. I have no idea of what Bryan is doing at the end of the song, but it’s definitely insolent. It is also just a sound effect.

Grey Lagoons is the next one. Listening to the song makes you feel that the band wants to make their own grey lagoons type of horror movie, full of classiness and thrilling aspects and not to mention humor. However, they don’t actually want grey lagoons to be in their back yards. They want classy movie theatres like the Roxy to still exist—they don’t. The band also wants to show that they can get real lowdown (for instance Ferry’s harmonica in the number) and not just play artsy palatial rock palaces-like music. Even though the band is experimental in terms of their style, they want to show that they can find other means of pleasure. (They would sell out years later in the 80’s with Avalon.)

Speaking of pleasure, For Your Pleasure is a song that has the same main idea as the last tune, but its a better conveyed song. The disharmonious aspect (the chant like singing in the song) is part of the comedy of the album—it’s not meant to be taken seriously. It’s a work full of five tempestuous young men who are expressing their flipped out emotions. Many other young kids were doing the same thing during that time, but the difference here is that Roxy’s emotions were furnished and carpeted.