According to Fran Lebowitz, the past always seems better because when the past happened you were younger.
But still this is no excuse. I flip through the TV channels on a Sunday looking for a show that will keep me up all night, and have me sharing a “dancing like a white guy” moment with my colleagues the next morning. I surf in vain until I get bored with the sound of my clicker and I pick up a magazine . . . and on the cover I see written in Bold Red Helvetica letters the word Fame.
Granted, the article in question was about US teenie pop sensation Justin Bieber, and how the young Usher protégé has, in less than three years, shot to the collective consciousness of our popular culture, but my point is that the word Fame reminded me of something.
Let me digress a little, just to say I am in no way responsible for a magazine with Justin Bieber on the cover being in my home, it’s just that some of my best friends love child stars. Now that I’ve got that out of the way, allow me to make my point.
It’s widely accepted among upper middle class fruitcakes like myself that the 70s was perhaps the greatest single revival of the arts in history. From Films like The Godfather and Taxi Driver, to the popularity of people like Andy Warhol and Bill Cosby— it was a glorious time.
Do you still remember bodysuits?
But before we close the books on that assertion, I’m quite sure the 80s would have a thing or two to say about that. Why, you ask? Well, do you still remember body suits? When disco was still cool and Abba was not a cult? When Purple Rain was forecast all year round and Michael Jackson was a one-man religion.
But perhaps among the lesser celebrated jewels of the 80s was not Thriller or Prince. It was in the form of a television series that started as a concept in a little New York apartment in 1980 and, no, I am not talking about Dallas or Family Ties. I am referring to Fame.
A lot of people like myself, who grew up in the 90s will have vivid memories of the tap dancing theme that opened the show. And the resurgent lyrics of a rebellious youth brigade as they danced on tables, acted on street corners and sang those immortal lyrics “Fame, I wanna live forever”. It was enough to make a township boy like me with two left feet think that he could outdo Isadora Duncan.
The phrase, “they don’t make them like they used to”, is often associated with worn out men who have outlived their hay day, but certainly when it comes to Fame that saying rings true. Today’s teens have to grow up on a diet of lesser shows like Glee and High School musical. The horror! The horror I say!
That’s why I was grinning like a Gummy Bear at my computer when I got news that Fox Retro will be broadcasting some of the seasons this month. I wanted to share the good news but realised I was in the office and my boss could have a few French words to say about me sparking a dancing and singing revolution in the middle of Media House.
So, instead, I hummed away at my keyboard and wrote this. – Sihle Mthembu