Richard Barone is an example to all of us who get trapped in our daily grind. He seems to be the perpetual glass-half-full kind of guy. He admits he feels pretty much the same way he did 30 years ago when Barone on lead vocals and guitar along with bassist Rob Norris and drummer Frank Giannini gave birth to the Bongos, a wonderful, jangly power-pop combo that could light up any room with its overflowing energy. It’s difficult to believe that their new album, Phantom Train (Jem), is not really new at all. With guitarist James Mastro added to the band, it was cut in 1985 and 1986 and has languished on the shelf ever since. Barone has also kindly agreed to serve as guest editor for magnetmagazine.com all week. Read our brand new Q&A with him.
Barone: I was there at that first MTV Video Music Awards when Madonna descended from the top of a giant wedding cake and, falling to her knees, proceeded to straddle and ride the hallowed Radio City Music Hall stage in a traditional white gown. Because the Bongos were nominated for best direction of our “Numbers With Wings” video that year, I was seated in one of the “hot seats” and had a great view. Particularly of the audience, many of whom were appalled. A true video artist who played completely to the camera, Madonna knew it was all in the close-ups. What the Radio City audience mostly saw was a heap of white fabric humping the stage, and they didn’t get it. The applause was muted and confused. But to those watching at home, she writhed her way into hearts and minds forever. “Like A Virgin” was a smash, and her name was suddenly on everyone’s lips. A lesson in Pop Stardom 101: an apparent absolute disaster can simultaneously be a star-making triumph. Fast-forward to the 2013 VMAs and Miley Cyrus’ twerking episode. Looking like a scrawny, transgender Dennis The Menace or, um, Justin Bieber with boobs and horns, Miley stomped around in an almost Madonna-like silver lamé bustier. Lanky, skinny, pale and shapeless, grinding Robin Thicke’s crotch with her puny butt, surrounded by fetishistic plushie bears with wagging tongues that mimicked her own, she was sexual but not sexy. I was uncomfortable watching it. And yet, as much as I hate to admit it, she delivered. At 20 years old, she played directly to her teen audience, and every awkward move carried a message: “I am one of you. I understand. It’s our party and we can do what we want to.” Nearly three weeks later I was walking across town on Eighth Street to the East Village and overheard no fewer than three separate conversations about Miley at the VMAs. People were still talking about it. In New York F-ing City! Hipsters! This is what it’s all about for the VMAs—from “LIke A Virgin” to Madonna kissing Brittany to Miley’s twerpy twerking—and for pop music itself. That’s the art. You make some noise in your own way, and sometimes it gets people talking. As lame as it was, it was perfect. The fact that, even as we stood on the brink of war with Syria that week, more Americans were tweeting about Miley’s twerking is a whole other story in itself.
Video after the jump.
