Saturday, October 09, 2010

Amsterdam, 2:47 a.m.

There'll never be another quite like you,
I'm so involved with everything you do.
Don't say nothing good will ever come of this,
don't say the damage is worse than it is . . .

When I was a closeted young gay man in Australia in the early 1990's, I thought the video clip for The Church's "Metropolis" was so outre!* Of course, once relocated to Minneapolis as an out gay man, a visit or two to "Bondage A-Go-Go" at Ground Zero soon put things in perspective!

I also have to say that there was something about the song's wistful lyrics and the sad and world-weary looking denizens of the video's Amsterdam club at 2:47 a.m. that spoke to the marginalization and loneliness I experienced as a closeted gay man. Thankfully, that closeted existence is a thing of the past.

I still find the video clip for "Metropolis" mesmerizing, however, and I'm sure you'll agree that the song's signature guitar riff is truly classic.

So here for your musical and visual pleasure is The Church with their Australian Top 20 hit "Metropolis." Enjoy!

Back in Metropolis, circuses and elephants,
where the oranges grew.
And back in Metropolis nothing can ever topple us
when I'm standing with you.

You stare down at some crowd from your trapeze,
and when you fell they fell down on their knees.
And when you broke they scrambled for a piece,
and when you spoke I felt their anger freeze.

Back in Metropolis, circuses and elephants,
Where the oranges grew.
And back in Metropolis nothing can ever topple us
When I'm standing with you.
And back in Metropolis talk about a holocaust
and then visit the zoo.
And back in Metropolis the weather is ridiculous.
What's it all leading to?

And it's only a day away,
we could leave tonight.
You could sleep along the way,
dream in black and white.

* Outre: [oo-trey] – adjective, of French origin. Passing the bounds of what is usual or considered proper; unconventional; bizarre.

For more of The Church at The Wild Reed, see:
Aching Wires, Midnight Fires; Things I Could Not Know . . .

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