Edie: The Birth Of Celebrity Culture

I'm becoming somewhat of an Edie Sedgwick expert in recent times. She truly fascinates me as both the beautiful icon of a decadent era and as the birth of celebrity culture.

Edie was Andy Warhol's muse in the 1960s, appearing in his films and photographs as well as gaining notoriety on the New York fashion and social scene. She also was allegedly involved with Bob Dylan during this period and ended up dying of a drug-overdose in the early part of the following decade.

I finished reading a rather substantial biography of her a couple of weeks ago, entitled "Edie: An American Biography" and sealed the deal with a second viewing of the biopic "Factory Girl". I've also been listening to Bob Dylan's "Blonde on Blonde" of whom (allegedly) a number of songs were penned about.

There seems little point of referring to the film in this piece, because despite Sienna Miller capturing the spirit of Edie brilliantly, it isn't a very good film. It is also somewhat misguided
factually on several occasions.

The book is a different matter however, as rather unlike most modern day biographies it focuses a significant amount of time to her childhood and family setup which nicely sets up the tales of excess later on. It is well over 70 pages before Edie actually enters the story; her family, a rich and aristocratic family steeped in the history of America (a Sedgwick was present at the declaration of independence, for example) that was so spectacularly screwed up that it resulted in nearly all of the Sedgwick children being housed in mental hospitals at some point, two suicides and a drug overdose. It was little wonder that the rest of the book is detailing a sad and
inevitable demise.

What interests me about Edie is how she really seems to signal the beginning of celebrity culture as we know it today. Despite the fact that in the decade before we had stars like Marilyn Monroe and Katherine Hepburn who were famous because of their talent and acting skills (Monroe especially is a criminally under-rated actress), Sedgwick was a different kind of celebrity.

Edie came to prominence because she was Edie Sedgwick. She drew people into her personality with her natural charm and charisma. She was capable of innocence, charm, confidence and doubt all in one single look, which consequently led to the camera loving her like few before. When you parallel the journey of Edie with the emergence of tabloid celebrity culture, you can see a clear line. Our Heat magazine need and Big Brother obsessions were started in the 1960s and Edie was the first major breakthrough. She was a model and an actress, true, but this work was very Warholian underground. The reason she became well-known was through her association with Warhol and her activities in New York society. How different is she really to a Jade Goody figure?

What I like about Edie is that she links three of my favourite 60s icons together; Bob Dylan who she famously fell in love and was left heartbroken by, Andy Warhol who created her superstar image and marketed her so successfully and the Velvet Underground (although this is perhaps more of a shaky link) who she was known to have performed with during the Factory years and to whom the parallels of rock and roll excess are perhaps most relevant. She is the all-encompassing 60s icon, summing up both the heady times and the decline into the 70s.

It is rather fitting that we feel the urge to repackage Edie into films and books in the great Rock and Roll image of decadence; of crashing and burning like the rest of the 60s. She is the poor little rich girl, the lost soul and the glamorous socialite all in the rather handy package of beautiful, trend-setting and unique looking woman.

Neither the books nor the film does her any kind of justice; a more fitting tribute would be the two songs Bob Dylan allegedly penned about her: Leopard-Skin Pill Box Hat and Just Like A Woman. Two contrasting and haunting songs that summed up the inconsistencies of her personality that in no small way helped make her a superstar.

Salvador Dali exhibition, Barcelona

On a recently holiday to Spain, I spent an afternoon in Barcelona where I chanced upon a career retrospective of the great Spanish surrealist painter Salvador Dali at the Real Circulo Atistico Museum of Barcelona in the Gothic Quarter of the city.

I knew a little of Dali's surrealist films, having seen his work with Luis Bunuel on Un Chien Andalou and L'Age D'Or from the 1930s but I wasn't particularly au fait with his paintings. Being a keen advocate of surrealism in all forms though, I paid my 8€ and entered.

I'm glad I did, mainly because I saw what has become one of my favourite pieces of surrealist art. It seemed to sum up everything that I liked about the genre, even by just looking at the title. It was called "Automobile Giving Birth to a Blind Horse Biting a Telephone" (pictured below). Even for someone like myself who doesn't always understand the meaning of artworks, the recurring themes were easy to pick out. The biggest singular theme was the image of a naked woman; of which nearly every picture seemed to have one buried under the absurd imagery on the surface. There were also recurring works of Don Quixote and a number of animal sculptures and paintings.

This all made me think about the way that my thought process works. Is there a naked breast hidden amongst the majority of my thoughts and ideas if I search hard enough? There has been scientific research that suggests that men think about sex every 52 seconds (or 7 seconds depending on what research you read) and Dali was obviously a repeat offender in this. It was most notable in a small series of what appear on the surface to be scribbles on pieces of paper, which almost like a Magic Eye poster from the 1990s revealed a subtle breast or genitalia if you stared closely enough.

Perhaps Dali was highlighting the fact that however we present ourselves as humans, the only thing that remains true of everyone on earth is our collected animal instinct.

Mercury Music Prize 2008

So Elbow have won the Mercury Music Prize; a feat that has been met with almost universal applause. The Seldom Seen Kid - a slow-burner like all of their albums - was pronounced the best album of the last year.

I like Elbow. I have all their records, have seen them live and consider myself a fan. Their records seem instrically Northern; which is something that always appeal to my regional sense of satisfaction. They are also quite obviously nice, down-to-earth blokes and you tend to see Guy Garvey knocking about Manchester regularly too. Which is cool.

So - A Mercury Prize winner? I'll go with that. Album of the year? I don't think so.

To first of all specifically look at the Elbow record. It's certainly their best offering of the last few years and is perhaps on a par with the 2001 Mercury nominated album Asleep in the Back. My main gripe is that it has four or five stand-out tracks and the rest of the album just blends into that. There is no real "wow" factor that makes this stand out more over the others. I would argue that it is inferior to several other albums on the shortlist but the reason that they have been given the award is because Elbow are the band who would make the biggest gain from receiving the prize.

I have been a long term supporter of the Mercurys as a useful tool for bringing great bands and artists into the mainstream. I would argue quite ferociously in favour of this style of decision making for the Mercurys. What annoys me is that it is then presented as the "Album of the Year" and the likes of Lauren Laverne and the judges go on about how it is only judged on the album itself. Looking at practically every winner that has ever gone before, I find this incredibly hard to believe.

Lets just examine the favourites for this years title:

Radiohead - (in my opinion) they have released the best album for the third time in their Mercury life but haven't won. Reason: They are the most important band in the world already. And they won't turn up.

Burial - I'm quite curious about Burial's record, mainly because its completely not my cup of tea. I listened to it a few times from start to finish in the hope that it would turn me on to dub; it didn't. However, from the looks of it the main reason why Burial didn't win is that he didn't turn up and he was a massive favourite. By merely becoming the bookies sure-fire winner, Burial has already gained the same kind of exposure, record sales and hype that he would have got if he had won.

Last Shadow Puppets - I think this is a better record than the Elbow one. There is an argument that it is looking backwards in style rather than looking forward but it doesn't detract from the quality of tunes. Reason it didn't win: Alex Turner won two years ago. Nobody has ever won the order twice.

I can't for the life of me ever imagine Portico Quartet, Estelle, Adele, British Sea Power or Rachel Unthank win; regardless of how fond I am (particularly of the latter). So when you take out three of the big-hitters and the ones highly unlikely to win you are left with a sublist of the following people: Laura Marling, Elbow and Neon Neon.

So, now we're down to the shortlist of three; i guess it's Elbow isn't it?

I actually had a crafty £5 bet on Laura Marling at 10-1 when the shortlist came out, mainly because of the reasons that I had detailed above and because I think she is the most extraordinary of talents. I was hoping that she'd pay back the silly sums of money that I spent trying to gather her early EPs on eBay, as much as anything else.

The popular consensus is that it might do Laura more harm than good to win. Arguments that she's too fragile, too young, too nervous around the press and too frightened of publicity to be able to handle it. I'm not sure whether I agree with this or not and I guess we'll never know. I'd much rather trust in her talent and obvious wisdom.

So that all boils down to Elbow again. They are great Mercury winners; a worthy band making a worthy album that finally is granted some mainstream success and the audience that goes with it. I have no bones about that; this is what makes the Mercurys so fantastic.

Well done Elbow. But next time you hear Lauren Laverne or one of the judges comment that it is judged purely on the individual albums, don't believe it. Nothing is ever that black and white.