Rhododendron is a Nice Flower

Christian Bale, still from "Velvet Goldmine"

When I was a pre-teen I remember listening to bad 70's pop - Bay City Rollers, ABBA (I didn't realize that they were pop geniuses at the time, I wasn't that musically sophisticated at 13, nor am I at present), and a lot of other forgettable AM radio fluff. I don't intend to trivialize my banal taste in music as a pre-teen, part of what I listened do I did so because it was on the radio, in my friend's mothers' car, in a store, at the beach, wherever. The other part was what I grew up with as the youngest of four children, with my two oldest siblings being 7 and 8 years older than I.

Growing up and sharing a room with my sister, I was exposed to a lot of 60's/70's folk-rock, singer-songwriter music. Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Carole King, James Taylor, Simon & Garfunkel, Buffalo Springfield, Gilbert O'Sullivan (yes, good lord, Gilbert O'Sullivan, if anyone remembers him). I group them together not by the degree of musicianship or originality, but by the range (there is a chasm from Joni Mitchell to Gilbert O'Sullivan) that I was exposed to. All that in addition to the requisite Beatles, Rolling Stones, Who, Led Zeppelin, Dylan and Kinks.

My oldest brother was listening to Bowie, Emerson Lake & Palmer, Yes, Franz Zappa & The Mothers of Invention, Roxy Music, and Brian Eno (with Roxy & solo). When I first heard the lyrics to "Do the Strand" I wasn't interested in the particular meaning of he lyrics, it was the stream of consciousness that attracted me. It would start for me an attraction to absurdism, stream of consciousness, and randomness that is still very much with me.

I went with a friend last night to see a screening of Velvet Goldmine at McCarren Park Pool in Greenpoint - an out of use public pool that in recent years has transformed into a performance space. I hadn't seen it since it had come out in the late 90's, and it was as good, and as cheesy a guilty pleasure as I had remembered.

Roxy Music were, in the early 70's anyway, were ahead of their time and their musicianship was head and shoulders against most artists considered Glam, but I think the sheer show of Glam, both good and bad, appealed to me because I am a visual person. Yes, I had crushes on pictures of George on Beatles' album covers, and thought Eric from the Bay City Rollers had gorgeous eyes,but the package of Bowie and Roxy Music and T Rex was to me something uncontainable.

When I became more aware of music, particularly how it made me feel, I was listening to the Mo-dettes, the Clash, UK Ska, Joy Division, X, and local Boston bands like the Neighborhoods, Boy's Life, Human Sexual Response and Mission of Burma. I subsequently subsumed the influence that the music of my older siblings had on me. I was pretty immersed in the local Boston scene at the now defunct Rathskellar (The Rat) in Kenmore Square and by the mid-80's the scene was overcome with neo garage bands like the Lyres, Prime Movers, Dogmatics and others. At the time I was heavily into how I looked - I wore 50's party dresses and 60's mod outfits, all to be had for cheap from the local Goodwill/Morgan Memorial and Salvation Army stores. I teased my hair up with Aqua Net and wore a lot of black eyeliner. Music and fashion have always been a likely couple, and even though a lot of the neo garage bands were wearing jeans, t-shirts and sweaters, there was still a retro fascination at the time, especially with the 50's and early to mid 60's.

I don't think it was until I moved to New York that I began to appreciate the music I had shelved for some time. When I look at Marc Bolan, glitter in his hair and on his face, smiling like the Chesire Cat, I think about his music and when I listen to his music, I think about how he looks. The same is true for me with Bowie and Roxy Music - it's the whole package.

Leaving the movie and coming home, I wanted to take out my cd's and blast them, but having house mates, and being a respectable age, I wasn't able to at 11pm on a Tuesday night.

Seeing the movie - with it's laughable, fictional account of David Bowie and Iggy Pop's relationship, and campy original songs ("somebody called me Sebastian"?) - and wanting badly to listen to the first Roxy or T Rex tape or CD I could get my hands on - put me in the mood. Sadly, not having a partner right now, all I could do I could was hum Virginia Plain in my head and dance around my room, pretending to be a glitter queen, while my cat looked on, a bit puzzled. Having just landed a really good job and knowing things are changing for me, I have to believe that part of my life will turn around soon as well. Until then, I can do the strand...