#duke: i’m not accepting criticism from a man who gets hard hearing children scream in terror | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inamindfarfaraway · 2 years

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How much do you think the Signal’s debut shook the supervillains, and indeed all criminals, of Gotham? He destroyed their longstanding definition of a Gotham vigilante. All the rules went out the window. From now on, apparently anything goes.

[Early morning in a plain, modest safehouse. Jonathon Crane cracks his eyes open, yawns, slowly gets up and groggily shuffles to the kitchen/dining area, where he takes out a cup and prepares to use the coffee machine. Behind him his scientific equipment and notes are arranged neatly on the counter. A relaxed Duke is taking photos of them.]

Duke: (jovially) Good morning.

Jon: Good morning.

Jon:

Jon: Who the hell are you?!

Duke: I’m the Signal! (pats symbol proudly) The newest hero in town.

Jon: (blinks, still half-asleep) Like… the Bat-Signal?

Duke: Yeah, I’ve got this whole light theme going on.

Jon: But - it - it’s 6:30 AM.

Duke: Yep. Turns out crime doesn’t just vanish when the sun comes up, so I patrol in the daylight hours. The night shift has seven people; the day shift should have at least one, right?

Jon: But you’re a Bat! Bats don’t do that!

Duke: Actually, some species of bat, like fruit bats, are diurnal. I got precedent.

Jon, on the verge of a breakdown: Okay, okay, look. I have lost a great deal of sleep lately evading capture by the frankly ridiculous number of vigilantes active at night. You’re a teenager, a student with a very strenuous job. Surely you understand what sleep deprivation feels like.

Duke: I do.

Jon: Just please, please let me have my coffee.

[A weighted pause. Duke narrows his eyes, then softens.]

Duke: You get one cup.

Jon: Thank you.

[He makes his cup of coffee and lovingly inhales the smell. Just as he’s about to drink it, Duke bats it out of his hand like a cat. It smashes on the floor.]

Jon: YOU -

[Duke quickly cuffs him.]

Duke: Stop! Making! Trauma: The Inhalant! That’s all you have to do, man!

***

[Duke is fighting Poison Ivy in her greenhouse of killer plants.]

Duke, popping out the blades in his escrima sticks: Your vines are no match for my bat-chet blades!

Ivy: Great, another one who puns.

[She sends a new wave of vines, but he gracefully slices and weaves through them. Too gracefully. His reflexes are faster than even Batman’s. Curious as scientists are wont to be, she halts her attack, and then suddenly, silently strikes with a vine straight at the back of his head. He cannot possibly sense it coming. He ducks.]

Ivy: Wait… oh God, you can’t predict movements before they happen with crazy extreme ninja training like Black Bat, can you? I’m not fighting another Bat like that. No way.

Duke: Oh, no, no, no, don’t worry. I’m not nearly as well-trained as Black Bat. I just have superpowers.

Ivy: You what?

Duke: I’m a metahuman. I’ve got superpowers.

Ivy: But you’re a Bat! Bats don’t do that!

Duke: I get that a lot.

Ivy: Well, what superpowers?

Duke: I’m not telling you all about my powers - I’m literally fighting you - but basically I can process light differently. Part of that is seeing where it’s been, the past, and where it will be, the future. I call it ghost vision.

Ivy: How far into the past and future? Hours? Months? Years? Can you see before your birth or after your death? Can you predict other people’s deaths? Watch the rise and fall of civilizations?

Duke, whose ghost vision currently goes under a minute both ways: That’s for me to know and you to… (stares into the middle distance) I believe, never find out.

Ivy: (raises hands) I’ll go to Arkham.

***

[Duke kicks open the door to Edward Nygma's hideout.]

Duke: Give it up, Riddler, I've got a... whoa.

[He trails off as he takes the space in. There are papers - plans, to-do lists, riddles, ciphers, trap and gadget blueprints, maps and more - everywhere, in stacks, folders and scattered loose across every surface. A bin in the corner is overflowing with crumpled pages. Intricate model traps line a shelf, one fallen on the floor. One wall bears a large corkboard with green and purple strings connecting annotated pictures of the Batfamily, including a screenshot of Oracle's digital logo. Edward himself has not reacted whatsoever to Duke's entrance. He's hunched over at his desk, typing away at an expensive computer setup. On one side of him sit many energy drinks, on the other is a massive pile of empty cans. All this detail requires Duke's night vision to see, because the lights are off and the curtains are closed, the only light the computer's cold glow.]

Edward: (only briefly looking up to give him a haughty stare) Yes, yes, the Signal, I've heard. Rest assured, it will be my utmost pleasure to obliterate you in a battle of wits. I just need to finish a couple of things.

Duke: When was the last time you slept?

Edward: (slightly hysterical chuckle) Please. I have transcended my mortal weaknesses thanks to intense focus, indomitable drive and the miracle of stimulants, much as I presume you Bats do. You're in no position to lecture me on getting enough sleep. I mean, you're late, so you're clearly not on top of things.

Duke: What?

Edward: You're meant to be a daytime hero. It's a little late for that, isn't it?

Duke: (concerned) It's 8:00 AM.

[Edward blinks and looks at the clock on his screen. He frowns. He stands up, strides over to the window and opens the curtains, flinching at the bright morning light. Duke notices that he has deep bags under his eyes and looks even more tired than Jon did, but his movements are as energetic as ever. He stretches and winces from back ache.]

Edward: Ah. So it is. ...What day is it?

Duke: (more concerned) Monday?

Edward: Monday?!

Duke: Okay, you've clearly been in the zone for a while. And I know being autistic can make it hard to recognize and interpret your body's messages. When was the last time you ate?

Edward: None of your business. I'm perfect condition.

[He picks up another can. Duke punctures it with a batarang. Edward scoffs and throws it down in indignation.]

Duke: I don't think you should have any more of those. (scans the rooms with X-ray vision) Oh my God, there's no food in here. Did you forget to buy it? Listen, if you come quietly, I'll get you a full breakfast on the way to Arkham.

[Edward is distracted, rummaging through his rooms in search of food.]

Edward: Of course I have food, Duke. It's right... it's somewhere around... (finds the fallen model) oh, I was looking for this!

Duke: No, with my powers I - you know my identity?

Edward: (still distracted, talking increasingly fast) What, like it's hard? I know everyone's except Oracle and the Red Hood. If Jason had survived, he'd be a perfect fit, but he's dead. Now, true, Stephanie is still alive when I distinctly remember visiting her grave, but those are completely different situations. There was a motive to fake her death, to escape the criminal overlords she'd angered with that gang war; I cannot find any such benefit from Jason's faked death and relocation. Stephanie was gone for, like, a year. Jason has yet to return after most of a decade. Even -

Duke: You visited Steph's grave?

Edward: She was a brilliant adversary, I had to pay my respects. Anyway, even if Jason's death was somehow inexplicably faked, he wouldn't have chosen to live only as the Red Hood. Especially who the Red Hood was at first. That would mean sacrificing his close familial relationships and becoming his beloved father and brother's enemy. And why would he ever be a crime lord? It's a radical betrayal of all his values, and based on his backstory, he should resent organized crime. And Batman would never fight his own child. None of it makes any sense! But I can't figure out what else could work. Is he really just a random person the Bats took in in adulthood? So that's been weighing on me. And also -

[He trips over a folder and, weak and lightheaded, crashes to the floor. He's so exhausted that merely lying on a flat surface has him sleeping soundly in an instant, resting his head on a stack of paper. Duke stares at him incredulously.]

Duke: I'm buying you breakfast.

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dan-wreck · 7 years

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BOWIE #2 - STARDUST MEMORIES

Photo by Mick Rock

Oh stop groaning, you can name a piece of writing with a Woody Allen pun when the person you're writing it about is a cultural Zelig.

Soon there's going to be a whole generation where the Bowie they remember is the dead Bowie. The sanitised version who is forming in the popular imagination. Then after that there's going to be a generation who don't have a Bowie. Figuratively and literally, kids born into a post Bowie era. Pity them more. I guess how you first encountered him is a question of when you grew up and your surroundings: a guy I worked with at my last job, 20 years older than me, announced "That guy from Labyrinth is dead!". Presumably, somewhere, there's a die hard Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence fan who was mourning the death of Jack Celliers. We may never know.

For many people the Bowie they remember is Ziggy Bowie, whether they were alive to see him bringing bisexuality onto the BBC or not. Maybe this is one of the reasons behind the recent cringeworthy trend of calling him "the Starman" the same way that faux-matey twats call Paul Weller the Modfather. Maybe it's just that these people are idiots. Bowie himself didn't really seem to think of Ziggy as an enduring character or perhaps he just felt like he’d said all he could through that conduit. He laid him to rest after Aladdin Sane after all: around 42 years before he finished creating. Ziggy was really strictly speaking a footnote. The relatively anonymous figure of Major Tom, however, was one he kept returning to: after Space Oddity he came back in Ashes To Ashes, then again in Hallo Spaceboy (the Pet Shop Boys remix particularly) and then finally we see him dead in the Blackstar video.

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Ashes To Ashes for instance: Major Tom is strung out in heaven's high and hitting an all time low. This, though, at a time when Bowie's cultural stock was quite high. He was incredibly cool. He was still selling a lot of records. He was the one person who could hang out in the living room of a confused and senile Bing Crosby or at a tiny punk gig and fit equally well with either. There was no point reviving Ziggy because a whole load of New Romantics and Goths were doing it. The fact that this new flock of painted birds were very inspired by him was something that'd become crushingly obvious when Bauhaus did their borderline karaoke version of Ziggy Stardust in 82. Bowie embraced his bastard children with open arms, casting them as his grim entourage in his video, with one notable exception.

Gary Numan. A huge fan who wound up getting thrown off the set of a TV show they were both on and being dismissed as the "same old thing in brand new drag" in Teenage Wildlife because our man was feeling a bit insecure about this new pretender. Which is a bit rich, really, considering that young Bowie himself was a fusion of Iggy, Newley, Scott Walker and whoever else he could latch onto. Numan was certainly no more derivative than Bowie and it wasn’t just Bowie he was drawing from: he drew as much from JG Ballard and Philip K Dick novels and John Foxx as he did from the Spider from Bromley. It’s allso amusing considering that he sings Teenage Wildlife in a voice uncannily similar to that of Billy MacKenzie, who his people had recognised the grand high art high camp potential of when they heard the Associates cover of Boys Keep Swinging and offered them a publishing deal; then later on "The midwives to history put on their bloody robes" is delivered in the voice of another Bowie acolyte, Richard Butler.

Make no mistake, Ashes to Ashes is simultaneously a high water mark, a brilliant pop record and the point where Bowie stopped being ahead of trends and started chasing them. It just so happened that a lot of these trends were started by people catching up to him. Confusing, no? In fact, this is the one point where you could maybe give some credence to the lazy critics idea of Bowie as "chameleon". Now at his best Bowie was never a chameleon. Especially when he was first Ziggy, actually because there's no way Bowie / Ziggy was blending into the background: he was an incredibly beautiful, sexually ambiguous peacock character. But during the 80s he did blend in quite a lot. He was just another one of the rank and file whether prancing about onstage with anonymous session hacks on the Glass Spider tour or just being "one of the guys" with Tin Machine. It didn't really suit him. It was unnerving. It still seemed like a costume but a very lazy one. The equivalent of Bowie turning up to the macabre Halloween coke party of 80s pop in casual clothes and saying "I came as David Jones".

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So the next time we saw Major Tom in a lot of people's eyes he really was hitting an all-time low. Not everyone's, not the die-hards and not people who buy and listen to music based on what they hear, not what they're told by a music press who had been swallowed up by the sexless and jingoistic Britpop craze. See, with Outside what he'd done is released an elaborate concept album rife with pervy sexualised violence, violent sex, drugs, strange invented characters and references to obscure artists and art movements like Chris Burden (already visited in the Berlin days on Joe The Lion), Herman Nitsch and the Vienna Actionists. The visual component was a huge part of it all again, with unnerving videos like Samuel Bayer’s The Hearts Filthy Lesson. In interviews he was talking up Tricky and The Young Gods and saying how much he wanted to work with Glenn Branca. Being ahead of the curve by talking about the power of the internet as everyone thought he was nuts. He was even working extensively with Eno again.

You know - the sort of thing you want from Bowie!

This isn't what the British music press wanted. They wanted safe flag-waving and to be told what they knew to make them feel like they hadn't dumbed down to a degree which is still marring pop music with waves of Oasis clones because for a while it was acceptable to make bland drivel devoid of imagination or sensuality. They smeared Bowie's dabbling with jungle and drum'n'bass as a sad old man trying to stay in touch when in reality it was really just in continuity with him learning to play sax as a teenager because that's what all the cool jazz musicians he looked up to did, making "plastic soul" on Young Americans and welding the cold European sensibility of Low, "Heroes" and Lodger to the beating heart of the black American rhythm section of Davis, Murray and Alomar. Cultural segregation, two world wars and one world cup was what they wanted and they didn't want ageing mavericks showing up and demonstrating how hopelessly conservative they were.

A lot of the incredibly dull music being hyped up to the skies was, just like it was with the New Romantics, made by Bowie fans. So the time was right for him to come back but could he have not just have given them Ziggy again? Something with nice short songs, loud guitars, some dramatic strings. This time a bit more hetero, though, so the lads mag readers weren’t left shifting about uncomfortably again the way they were whenever they saw Richey James Edwards.

"Do you like girls or boys? It's confusing these days"

If you're not paying attention you can almost miss it but Hallo Spaceboy is, in fact, mentioning Ziggy / Bowie as much as it mentions Major Tom if not more. In those two lines we see Bowie cagily re-opening the closet door now it's safe for him to do so, and doing so on a mind-fuck of a concept album closer to the spirit of Ziggy or Diamond Dogs than almost anything he'd done since (The Thin White Duke was as much coke psychosis as an actual character). Before this the last time he was really clear about this was on Scream Like A Baby where he talked about queer bashing ("They came down on the faggots") and obliquely mentioned a gay love affair. Then let's look at the remix: it doesn't get much gayer than The Pet Shop Boys, really, does it? The Pet Shop Boys remixing a song from a polymorphously perverse album where he sings from the point of view of various genders: just listen to his alarming pitched-up Baby Grace voice or the strange androgynous Vocoderised ice queen voice of Ramona A Stone.

Most offensively of all, though, however much you laughed at him it didn’t really work because he was very aware that it was funny. The segues between tracks were full of gallows humour and the Algeria Touchshriek voice sounds like nothing so much as Peter Cook’s E.L. Wisty character; it’s very serious stuff but as you hear Bowie intone “The screw is a tightening atrocity, I shake as the reeking flesh is as romantic as hell” in The Voyeur Of Utter Destruction (As Beauty) there’s a faint smirk under it. He is always aware of his own absurdity.

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1.Outside didn't spawn any of the sequels he talked about doing but it's no surprise: artists tend to talk about at least five times as many ideas as they actually follow through and work on. There were drum'n'bass and jungle rhythms creeping in on I'm Deranged and We Prick You, some classic Bowie ballads like Strangers when We Meet (itself, like Teenage Wildlife, in the "Heroes" continuum and one of my favourite Bowie songs) and some homages to what Scott Walker was up to at the moment like The Motel or A Small Plot of Land. He wasn't setting the trends now: he was following them and the best you can hope for is that rather than trying to assimilate into it as he did in the 80s he was putting them into the Bowie blender.

This, however, misses the point that he was never that original in the first place! The way he presented his ideas was, and he had a unique singing voice but the fact is that he just had his ear to the underground and did these things to a mass audience so they just looked new. In that respect Outside is no more or less original than Low or one of the records everyone goes on about it just happens that when it came out it wasn't the first time the masses were hearing these sounds as it was when he made the second side of Low which sounds like Cluster or Harmonia. Bowie’s value wasn’t as an inventor of new sounds it was as a way of making them digestible and emotionally accessible to everyone in a way which may then allow the actual innovators (and he did always cite his sources) to break through to more success: this is quite laudable.

So then of course he went on tour with NIN, continuing to refuse to "act like a man his age". Now this raises an interesting question about Bowie's public perception. How is it that he was an old man 20 years ago when he was in his late 40's - early 50's but then when he died he was too young to go? Could it be that as rock'n'roll, still a young artform, develops that our perceptions of performers capability changes? The fact is that for a pervy old man, as he was labelled at the time, he still looked very youthful and very vital. Far sexier, far more dangerous than any of the Britpop boys who'd grown up on his music but who shuffled about in tracksuit tops and shapeless jeans. As this live TV clip shows, with Gail Ann Dorsey looking just as androgynous and unworldly as he ever did but with seemingly the minimum of effort; and Mike Garson looking deranged.

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The right people were listening: Fincher saw the potential to run The Heart’s Filthy Lesson over the credits of Se7en and Lynch used I’m Deranged in Lost Highway. Both were similarly grim end of the 20th Century blues, meditations on madness. Both soundtracks, coincidentally enough, featured the work of NIN and Coil: it’s a little frustrating how close in terms of interests Bowie and Coil are, how few degrees of separation there are between these immensely influential queer occultist artists and that they never actually worked together.

He continued in this vein with Earthling, still upsetting everyone by continuing to do what he felt like doing rather than digging up old characters. A subtle “fuck you” to the beige whitewashed sounds of Brit-pop in the cover where he wears a stained and tattered Union Jack coat as he looks out over an idealised version of England’s green (screened) and pleasant land. This on an album as infused with contemporary black music as Young Americans was. Even his huge 50th birthday show was as much of a celebration of Bowie present and looking forward as a fond look at what had been. Then, of course, "Hours" came.

Now "Hours" is perhaps an unfairly maligned album: if anyone else had put out an album with songs as great as Thursday's Child and Survive on they'd be praised to the skies and rightly so. They are moving, perfectly constructed pop songs but there's no real fire or spark of innovation in them. What little emotional impact there is has been drowned in high-tech production that covers everything in an unpleasant sheen. This is possibly as much Mark Plati and Reeves Gabrels fault as Bowie's as this is his most straightforwardly collaborative album (with every song co-credited to Gabrels) but I'm not sure. I feel like Reeves Gabrels gets unfairly criticised as he's been involved in some of the most ridiculous things Bowie has done (i.e. Tin Machine) and he appeared onstage in daft outfits playing wanky guitar solos.

He's also been involved in some of my favourite Bowie songs, however, and if you see him playing with The Cure he's not as huge a presence. He’s not jumping all over everything with fretboard tapping and lunging around waggling his tongue like Gene Simmons with a PhD: this implies that he cut such a larger than life figure because his boss wanted him to as much as anything else. So despite his persona bordering on that of a middle-aged man enthusiastically demonstrating FX pedals to you in a guitar shop, blaming him too much is misguided.

According to the excellent Pushing Ahead of the Dame blog, it was around this time Bowie started thinking about making a Ziggy Stardust film and as such he was annoyed by Velvet Goldmine's fictionalised steps into the same territory. Todd Haynes' Velvet Goldmine is an enjoyable film but I can see why he'd be so annoyed with it: it is clearly the work of a gay fan feeling betrayed by him “going back in” circa Let’s Dance. Possibly the great man was realising this wasn’t one of his best moves however well it worked at the time. After "Hours" was out and around the time of Heathen in 2002, Bowie changed his tune regarding Ziggy: “I’m running like fuck from that…Can you imagine anything uglier than a nearly 60-year-old Ziggy Stardust? I don’t think so!".

Similar ambivalence towards the idea is hinted at by the shelving of the video for the Pretty Things Are Going To Hell (itself a dual reference to The Stooges and Hunky Dory) where Bowie is menaced by huge puppets of past characters: the Pierrot from Ashes To Ashes, The Man Who Sold The World, The Thin White Duke and of course Ziggy. Maybe he judged it to be a bit on the nose.

It is an interesting change in perception we've undergone. In 1996 he was too old to be performing like he used to do but in 2013, at the age of 66, there were whispers about how great it'd be if he toured again. Not in any other industry do you expect a 66 year old man to get up onstage and dance about trying to be sexy for two or three hours a night. He could've done it like Dylan or Cohen (who only started touring again when he was much older than Bowie, true) but it wouldn't really have been his style: here was a man for who dance and mime and stagecraft had been an integral part of what made him a star. It’s still very present in his last videos and one of his final works was an honest to God musical after all.

So in the Blackstar video when we see that Major Tom is dead and at peace at last what are we to make of it? Clearing house for a whole new phase of experimentation and new ideas or a man on his last legs knowing that even if he didn't die straight after making this album he didn't have forever and was in the winter of his years? This is where we start to maybe give him too much credit. He was a man, and a great man but not a superhero. Superheroes don’t do things like release terrible covers of Iggy Pop songs with Tina Turner bolted onto them. “Ah but he only did that to keep his good friend financially solvent.”. Okay, good point.

He was a very intelligent man but not some towering inhuman intellect who could've predicted the moment Blackstar's "Something happened on the day he died, his spirit rose a metre and stepped aside" soundtracking the moment we knew we knew we knew. Maybe he predicted that it'd be a long while before somebody else took his place because things aren't set up that way. The industry has no interest in promoting bravery, the shock of the new. But he can't possibly have predicted that he was soundtracking millions of people thinking "He's gone, isn't he?" when he wrote that in remission. To think that he did is ridiculous, isn't it?

Isn't it?

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#david bowie #1. outside #ashes to ashes #ziggy stardust #blackstar #brit pop #jungle

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afutureinnoise · 7 years

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DAVID BOWIE, PART 2

BY DAN WRECK

Photo by Mick Rock

BOWIE #2 - STARDUST MEMORIES

Oh stop groaning, you can name a piece of writing with a Woody Allen pun when the person you're writing it about is a cultural Zelig.

youtube

You know - the sort of thing you want from Bowie!

"Do you like girls or boys? It's confusing these days"

youtube

Outside didn't spawn any of the sequels he talked about doing but it's no surprise: artists tend to talk about at least five times as many ideas as they actually follow through and work on. There were drum'n'bass and jungle rhythms creeping in on I'm Deranged and We Prick You, some classic Bowie ballads like Strangers when We Meet (itself, like Teenage Wildlife, in the "Heroes" continuum and one of my favourite Bowie songs) and some homages to what Scott Walker was up to at the moment like The Motel or A Small Plot of Land. He wasn't setting the trends now: he was following them and the best you can hope for is that rather than trying to assimilate into it as he did in the 80s he was putting them into the Bowie blender.

youtube

“Ah but he only did that to keep his good friend financially solvent.”.

Okay, good point.

Isn't it?

youtube

#david bowie #by dan wreck

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