Marilyn Manson by Leonardo Da Vinci
Mirá esta grilla. Acá se ponen contentos porque vuelve Ariel Pucheta de Ráfaga
Poster for the Teenage Awards Music International (TAMI) Show.
Started watching this today. About a half hour into it. Gerry and the Pacemakers, boy; they were bigger than I remembered, if the screams of the audience are any barometer. I thought they were “Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying” and “Ferry Cross the Mersey,” but, apparently, they rocked it on out on occasion, their singer waving and blowing kisses in between lines and leaving not a dry seat in the house.
They have some fairly intrusive dancers throughout, choreographed by some dude assisted by Toni “Oh Mickey You’re So Fine, You’re So Fine You Blow My Mind!” Basil. And I think Teri Garr might be one of the go-go dancers. So, intrusive, yes, but I’m hardwired to like mid-’60s go-go dancers. They were one of the first erotic images I can recall. I loved, even as a little kid, how female go-go dancers danced. All doing the same dance, but each differently. I didn’t think that as a kid. I just liked how they danced. Around the same time that Yolanda, my first-grade classmate, taught me in one free period soundtracked by our young teacher’s brand-new Beatles singles (“I Want to Hold Your Hand” one of them, certainly) a string of dances (The Monkey, The Pony, The Frug) that she had recently learned from her sister and did quite well if memory serves. It was a sunny day, and the midday light illuminated the desks nearest the windows and lightened the entire room. We were the only two kids dancing, Yolanda and I. We switched from one dance to the other, sometimes calling them out ahead of the change. Unselfconsciousness in excelsis. Yet still feeling unnameably cool. Yes, I have charged feelings regarding go-go dancers.
Looking forward to a set by JB and one by the Stones.
