Songs and the City

The best in real estate rock: Is the house without windows good resale?

The soul-sucking capacity of the suburbs is prevalent in many songs.
Roy Orbison may want to reconsider that house without windows — for the resalemarket.
Neil Peart knows drums and subdivisions.
Is this the penthouse Marianne Faithfull dreamed of in her good life vision?

It might not be the sexiest of subject matters, but history has shown that musicians have quite a lot to say about real estate. Granted, you won't find many tunes about home prices or the softening of the rental market, but you have to remember that the acts most often depicted in song — heartbreak and sex — have to happen somewhere.

And so by default, real estate — apartments, offices, houses, shopping malls — are actually quite prevalent in popular music.

Here are 11 examples that prove my point:

"House Without Windows" by Roy Orbison

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Roy, I totally understand your reasoning for wanting to build a house without windows. Who wants to see your former flame walking by with her new love?

Sure, the lack of windows will prevent you from seeing the stars that shine ... shine on your ex and her new love. But Roy, you have to consider the resale value. In six months from now when your heart has finally healed, you'll certainly come to regret your real estate faux pas.

Plus, when that new lady comes into your life, how will you be able to write an upbeat ode to love if you can't even see the sun shining from your bedroom? Play it safe, build a house with windows and invest in some blackout shades.

"Subdivisions" by Rush

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Drummer Neil Peart gets a lot of flack for his overly literate lyrics. Perhaps it's nostalgia talking, but I find the words to this outcast anthem to be right on the mark, a pitch perfect description of the stultifying effect that suburban living can have on the young: "In the basement bars/In the backs of cars/Be cool or be cast out/Any escape might help to smooth the unattractive truth/But the suburbs have no charms to soothe the restless dreams of youth."

"Penthouse Serenade" by Marianne Faithfull

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This standard was made famous by Nat King Cole and covered by a slew of crooners (Sarah Vaughan, Anita O'Day, Tony Bennett), but I prefer Marianne Faithfull's world-weary rendition from 1987's "Strange Weather."

A famous rock casualty — the victim of terrible drug addiction and a devastating relationship with Mick Jagger — Faithfull reinvented herself as a "nicotine-stained chanteuse," as one reviewer put it. And it's from this perspective that she wistfully longs for the good life. You get the sense that Faithfull is a long way from the top, planted firmly in the gutter but looking at the stars.

"The Big Country" by Talking Heads

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David Byrne has long had an interest in urban planning and this passion comes through in his songs as well as in his writings. An avid cyclist, Byrne travels with his bike on tour and informally documents the inner workings and rhythms of each city’s geography and population.

Here's a journal entry from his stop in Houston last June. "The Big Country" finds Byrne matter-of-factly describing the view from an airplane, noting the transformation of the terrain from the "factories and buildings" to the farmland and undeveloped areas. And as quickly as the urban turns to rural, Byrne switches from passive observer to editorialist, bristling at the thought of ever having to live outside the big city: "I wouldn't live there if you paid me/I couldn't live like that, no siree!"

"Woman of the Ghetto" by Marlena Shaw

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Cleverly referencing Martin Luther King's inspiring and idealistic "I Have a Dream" speech, "Woman of the Ghetto" is actually a scathing indictment of U.S. domestic policies in the late 1960s.

Shaw bristles with anger as she addresses Washington's impotent politicians, "How do you raise your kids in a ghetto?/Do you feed one child and starve another?/Won't you tell me, legislator?" Never one to play the victim, Shaw turns in a defiant political statement that's a Black power, women's lib anthem of for the ages.

In terms of our real estate theme, there's plenty to ponder when considering so-called "ghettos" and the re-development/gentrification debates that surround them.

"Old Old House" by Souled American

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"There's an old old house that once was a mansion. On a hill overlooking a town." It sounds like the structure can use some work, but I smell a perfect fixer-upper. Somebody call Bungalow Revival!

"This Property is Condemned" by Maria McKee

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Do you remember the mid-'80s alt-country band Lone Justice? Most people probably don't, but they had a nice run way back when (and even opened for U2 at the Summit on the Joshua Tree tour in 1987).

The band's secret weapon was powerhouse lead singer Maria McKee, who could belt it out with the best of them. For proof, take a listen to this slow-burning blues about a down and out dame in New Orleans. You can practically feel the sweat dripping when she sings, "You may call me jail bait but I ain't too little to take the heat."

"Jesusland" by Ben Folds

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This track could be a companion piece to the Talking Head's "The Big Country" above. It takes the listener from the inner city ("Past all the stores and wig shops/quarter in a cup for every block/and watch the buildings grow smaller as you go") to the suburbs ("Beautiful McMansions on a hill that overlook a highway ... crosses flying high above the malls.") charting the jarring transformation of the built environment.

There are thousands of Jesuslands all over this country and Ben Folds' portrait of these ironically soulless enclaves is spot on: "They drop your name but no one knows your face/Billboards quoting things you'd never say/You hang your head and pray."

"Apartment Story" by The National

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When I lived up in the northeast, sometimes I just wanted to curl up with a loved one and hunker down for the winter. That's the premise of this track, although I'm not sure whether the shut-in are being romantic or whether they've gone insane. You be the judge.

"This House is Not For Sale" by Ryan Adams

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This weeper from Ryan Adams finds a couple being kicked out of their house, most likely for a lack of cash. The narrator tries to console his partner while at the same time ruminating on the memories of when they first found it: "Do you remember when we even bought this thing? I danced you across the wooden floor and you signed the lease."

The song concludes with the protagonist humorously suggesting they try to scare off potential buyers by donning white sheets. It's a ploy straight out of the Scooby Doo playbook and while he's clearly in jest, you can sense his desperation.

TDT (Token Dylan Track)

"Dear Landlord" by Bob Dylan

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This classic track from Dylan's 1967 "John Wesley Harding" album would make an ideal theme song for the current housing crisis. But don't think that he's really writing a plea from a renter to his landlord.

I've read multiple interpretations of this song. Some argue that the landlord is God. This seems plausible, especially when considering the first verse: "When that steamboat whistle blows" is when Dylan comes to judgment and the following lines are a plea not to judge him too harshly. I've also read that he's addressing his manager, Albert Grossman. Again, this is another valid interpretation. But no matter how you decipher the lyrics, there's no denying the song's simple power.

Movie Review

Daniel Craig shines in Queer, an unapologetic tale of love and loss

Drew Starkey and Daniel Craig in Queer

Photo courtesy of A24

Drew Starkey and Daniel Craig in Queer.

As recently as the late 2010s, if a movie was made about an LGBTQ+ character, it was more than likely about their coming out experience. Romance, if it existed, was typically chaste, and actual sex was almost completely out of the question. Things have changed dramatically in the 2020s, to the point that a major movie star has no issue starring in a film called Queer.

Based on the 1985 novella by William S. Burroughs, the film features William Lee (Daniel Craig), whom everyone calls just Lee, a writer living in 1950s-era Mexico City who spends most of his time haunting local bars with friends like fellow writer Joe Guidry (Jason Schwartzman) and hitting on younger men. His early interactions in the film seem to indicate that Lee has a bad reputation within the local gay community, as multiple people avoid him or give him odd looks.

Lee senses an opportunity when he encounters a newcomer, Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey). Despite some awkward interactions, the two of them start spending time together, although Lee has much more invested in the relationship than Eugene does. Their hit-and-miss bond continues until Lee, who’s starting to get into drugs in addition to the booze, convinces Eugene to accompany him on a trip to South America.

Directed by Luca Guadagnino and written by Justin Kuritzkes (making their second straight film together after Challengers), early on the film seems to be mostly about the divide between an older person who’s grown comfortable in his ways and a younger person who’s living a relatively carefree life. The introduction of drugs into the plot changes things, though, with Lee searching out more ways to open his eyes to what the world has to offer.

Guadagnino and his team use some interesting visual storytelling techniques to introduce ideas that may not be present in the actual script. The most successful, demonstrated in multiple scenes, is the superimposition of movements by Lee over what’s actually taking place in the scene. The subtle overlay gives the audience insight into Lee’s true feelings, showing what he can’t or won’t say out loud.

Music also plays a big part in how the plot is perceived, with the use of anachronistic songs from Nirvana and Prince serving to heighten certain moments. The score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross is not as in-your-face as the one they did for Challengers, but it complements the film well, especially when the plot starts to get trippy in its final half hour.

Craig, who appears sweaty and disheveled for much of the film, is about as far from the suaveness of James Bond as you can get in this role. He takes multiple risks with his performance and almost all of them pay off. Starkey’s character is subdued by comparison, but still comes off well. Schwartzman and Lesley Manville are given showy roles, with both using altered appearances that make them nearly unrecognizable to deliver memorable performances.

Queer is not as accessible as Challengers was storytelling-wise, but the fact that it tells a story about gay men living their lives as they see fit with no interference or questions shows how far the film world has come in a short period of time. It also continues Guadagnino’s streak of making audacious films in a way that few other filmmakers are willing or able to approach.

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Queer is now playing in theaters.

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