Early Tuesday afternoon, entering the lobby of the Rockefeller Center building where I work, I was greeted breathlessly by a co-worker: “Lady Gaga was here! You missed her by only two or three minutes!”Several other co-workers caught a glimpse of her, and one posted a shot of the songstress on Facebook. All in all, quite a crowd had gathered in the lobby for the impromptu sighting, and that was even without benefit of her (perhaps) accidentally-on-purpose wardrobe malfunction while being honored as a Fashion Icon at the CFDA Fashion Awards at another point in the day.
Count me among the unimpressed.
Don’t get me wrong: I can be as star-struck as the next person. Work over two decades in midtown Manhattan, as I have done, and you’re bound to come across somebody famous.
Over the years, commuting to or from work or stepping outside during lunch, I’ve been startled by the sight of Henry Winkler (three times, all while appearing in a Broadway show with his good friend, the late John Ritter), Erin Brockovich, former local anchorman John Roland, and boxing promoter Don King (that skyscraper-high ‘do made it impossible for him to appear inconspicuous, even if he wanted to be).
In the same building where Lady Gaga appeared (on her way up to an interview in Howard Stern’s studio), I’ve stood only a few feet away from Fox News’ Alan Colmes (across the street from his employer, with a cellphone seemingly glued to one ear, wearing sunglasses even though he was indoors) and Knick great Walt Frazier (dressed uncharacteristically in a dark three-piece suit, looking more like a banker than the flamboyant Clyde). In the case of the hoops legend, I resisted the impulse to burst out in delight, as a good female friend of mine once did (“It’s my hero, Walt Frazier!”), or as Andy Richter, on his knees before his personal deity, William Shatner, did on Conan O’Brien’s old show, muttering a mantra suitable for the occasion (“I am not worthy…I am not worthy”). Two other co-workers encountered John F. Kennedy Jr. and Garry Marshall (“Yeah, that’s me,” said the Happy Days director when asked if it was him. “What’s it to ya?”).
But really, how on Earth does Lady Gaga--she of the impossible fashion sense (don't try her outfits even at home!)--belong in such company?
Let’s stipulate my prejudices at once: My musical tastes run to jazz, folk rock, classic rock, and classical music. Note that, if you want to have enduring power in these genres, sensationalism only gets you so far without talent. Also note that these styles emphatically do not include the form to which Lady Gaga belongs: Bimbo Pop.
Madonna became the pioneer—or, if you will, the den mother—of these female singers starting with an early ‘80s stage performance, when her antics—writhing on the floor in a wedding dress during “Like a Virgin”—led even the jaded Cher to burst out to a companion, “What the hell is that?” That was a seminal event in Bimbo Pop, a style dependent on empty sensation. Impressionable young children—now grown up to include not only Lady Gaga but also Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Katy Perry and Lindsay Lohan—took notice, to unhappy effect.
Though for some people imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, in Lady Gaga’s case blatantly stealing someone else’s work is.
But really, how on Earth does Lady Gaga--she of the impossible fashion sense (don't try her outfits even at home!)--belong in such company?
Let’s stipulate my prejudices at once: My musical tastes run to jazz, folk rock, classic rock, and classical music. Note that, if you want to have enduring power in these genres, sensationalism only gets you so far without talent. Also note that these styles emphatically do not include the form to which Lady Gaga belongs: Bimbo Pop.
Madonna became the pioneer—or, if you will, the den mother—of these female singers starting with an early ‘80s stage performance, when her antics—writhing on the floor in a wedding dress during “Like a Virgin”—led even the jaded Cher to burst out to a companion, “What the hell is that?” That was a seminal event in Bimbo Pop, a style dependent on empty sensation. Impressionable young children—now grown up to include not only Lady Gaga but also Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Katy Perry and Lindsay Lohan—took notice, to unhappy effect.
Though for some people imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, in Lady Gaga’s case blatantly stealing someone else’s work is.
As I was sitting in a restaurant a couple of weeks ago, an insistent, propulsive beat filled the air around me. After a few seconds I thought, Why does this sound familiar? Another 20 or so seconds and a more aggravating thought followed: Why does this sound like Madonna, even though I know it isn’t? Then, a moment of stunned recognition hit me: That’s “Express Yourself” but with different lyrics and a different voice!
In checking Lady Gaga’s Web site, I didn’t see the Material Girl and co-writer Stephen Bray receive any credit for “Born This Way.” I can’t say if they are so credited on her album because I refuse to shell out my hard-earned money on that stuff.
It wasn’t that long ago that even the mere suggestion of borrowing without attribution might have sparked a lawsuit in rock ‘n’ roll. (See George Harrison’s unhappy legal experience with “My Sweet Lord,” which some claimed echoed far too much the Sixties hit “He’s So Fine.”) But I guess today everything is different, and perhaps Madonna doesn’t mind the greatest piece of creative “indebtedness” since Brian DePalma latched for dear life onto the mature masterpieces of Alfred Hitchcock.
“God doesn’t make mistakes,” Lady Gaga announces in “Born This Way.” Most of us didn’t need a loud dance tune to figure that out already (it's in His/Her job description--it comes with being perfect).
In checking Lady Gaga’s Web site, I didn’t see the Material Girl and co-writer Stephen Bray receive any credit for “Born This Way.” I can’t say if they are so credited on her album because I refuse to shell out my hard-earned money on that stuff.
It wasn’t that long ago that even the mere suggestion of borrowing without attribution might have sparked a lawsuit in rock ‘n’ roll. (See George Harrison’s unhappy legal experience with “My Sweet Lord,” which some claimed echoed far too much the Sixties hit “He’s So Fine.”) But I guess today everything is different, and perhaps Madonna doesn’t mind the greatest piece of creative “indebtedness” since Brian DePalma latched for dear life onto the mature masterpieces of Alfred Hitchcock.
“God doesn’t make mistakes,” Lady Gaga announces in “Born This Way.” Most of us didn’t need a loud dance tune to figure that out already (it's in His/Her job description--it comes with being perfect).
But human beings sure make mistakes, and one of them is to make a heroine—a icon even, for God’s sake—out of someone who has demonstrated little creative ingenuity in anything, with even her method for grabbing public attention out of another performer’s playbook.
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