Word: sleepyheads
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...safe. The safety belt is strapped snugly across your body, and if that fails, the air bag will save your life--if it doesn't decapitate you. Little bells and lights go off if you make a mistake: don't forget to buckle up! Change your oil, you sleepyhead! The illusions--of power, of anonymity, of self-containment--pile up. You are the master of your domain. Actually driving the car is the last thing you need to worry about. So you can pick your nose, break wind, fantasize to your heart's content. Who's to know...
...operating as the jaded end of anything: Slant 6 songs, in all their compactness, open out into a new world of energy and experience, sort of the way Buzzcocks song did, and the way only few current pop bands in which the men sing the songs still do. (Exceptions: Sleepyhead and Small Factory. That's about it.) It's possible to ignore all the gender stuff and just enjoy the record--that's what I'm doing, two out of three times I listen to it. But it's also possible to appreciate this as the start...
Music about basic experiences runs the risk of over-simplification and leans towards judgment, a trap which the weakest song on the album, "sleepyhead," falls into. An annoying guitar whines while a syncopated rhythm pounds out what might have been an interesting musical question what will happen to Russia tomorrow, according to the Bible' The song mostly fails to lift the Intener above an unengaging level of absurdity, typified by the litany "Follow the money, follow the crowd, follow the fashion, follow the leader, follow that car' follow the yellow brick road...
After that, the magical illusion went out of the production. Thirteen girls-enchanted maidens all, wearing white calf-length dresses that looked like nightgowns-trotted on, stretched gracefully and all but went to sleep. The hunter made the acquaintance of the head sleepyhead (really a princess, danced by pretty Svetlana Beriosova), and the girls went into low-pressure love rites. The Russian fairy tale plot darkened further-got so dark, in fact, that only the program notes could make it almost clear. A gang of leaping fiends, Tartars and scimitarists introduced a horrid wizard (mimed by Frederick Ashton...
...good time, darling. Yes, said Vag aloud, then yes yes yes yes to himself I want to go home and then I want to go away farther and farther. I don't want to be drunk or indifferent or dance or dance or dance. To bed, to bed with sleepyhead. And it's seven more months...