How I Miss Malcolm McClaren

Lately I have been having that reverberation in me that time is passing. It is a difficult feeling to really describe, it's a form of melancholy but it's also merely a recognition or an inner understanding of things evolving and recognition that time has elapsed. We are young, then we are not so young any more, then one day we are older. At each stage we experience different things - the recklessness of youth, the dazzling showmanship of your twenties, the sobering thirties, the solemnity of your later thirties and so on. I say 'and so on' because I have yet to experience my forties but I am damn sure they will be even more of a wake up call.

Just last week I read a scathing review of Zoolander 2 by the film reviewer Richard Lawson who declared it badly out-dated, poor in humour, lacking in plot and that Derek Zoolander was as much of a lost little lamb in this film as Ben Stiller was in this new world. In a nutshell he accused Ben Stiller of having a form of a mid life crisis and expressing it through Derek.

How did Zoolander become obsolete and old hat? It felt like yesterday I was watching the VH1 prelude and was overwhelmed with excitement when I heard it was being made into a full length film. It felt like yesterday we were being introduced to Mugatu and Will Ferrell was as fresh as a brand new day.

The whole thing reminded me of a piece of music, Malcolm McClaren's 'Jazz Is Paris' . Why? Because Malcolm McClaren at the time that I first heard his music was so enthralling and new and it held such a lofty sway about it that when I recalled his death and the somewhat bitter speech he made before his passing about artist authenticity, it left a funny feeling in me. He spoke of the prime of his life, of being avant-garde and offering the world something brand new in those early Sex Pistol days, but then his moment had passed and all the things to do with that period. Distilled, remembered, revered; but the world moves on.

I have yet to see Zoolander 2 and I will try and go and see it before it leaves the cinemas but for the meantime my melancholy is in the early 1990's when the world was full of Gianni Versace, Madonna, Malcolm McClaren, Vogue Magazine and supermodels still reigned supreme.

Mmm

I wear black on St. Germain des Pres
Feelings in the air that love today
It's true I don't believe in love beyond the grave
But then I listen to a trumpet play

You wear black on St. Germain des Pres
I can still hear you miles away
I wear black you wear black
The trumpet answered back
Jazz is Paris and Paris is jazz

I wear black, you wear black
I wear black, you wear black
I wear black, you wear black
I wear black, you wear black
Jazz is Paris and Paris is jazz

I wear black on St. Germain des Pres
Feelings in the air that love today
I wear black you wear black
Sat naked on your lap
Like a child I feel love coming home

I traveled miles and miles in bed
Miles and miles playing in my head
I wear black you wear black
Makes me cry to think like that
Jazz is Paris and Paris is jazz

I wear black, you wear black
I wear black, you wear black
I wear black, you wear black
I wear black, you wear black
Jazz is Paris and Paris is jazz

I give you kisses
In all the secret places
Miles and miles of miles
You're profile, like an Egyptian queen
The best looking man I've ever seen
Mmm
I give you kisses
In all the secret places

I wear black, you wear black
I wear black, you wear black
I wear black, you wear black
I wear black, you wear black
Jazz is Paris and Paris is jazz