Christina and I were waiting at the bus station, talking about the best songs about dreams. She noted that it would be fun to have a mix tape entirely composed of dream songs. I promised to send her one.
Hold Fast to Dreams
Depeche Mode, "Dreaming of Me"
Fleetwood Mac, "Dreams"
New Order, "Dreams Never End"
The Everly Brothers, "All I Have to Do is Dream"
Blondie, "Dreaming"
Otis Redding, "I've Got Dreams to Remember"
Tom Waits, "Innocent When You Dream (78)"
TV on the Radio, "Dreams"
Caetano Veloso, "Dreamland"
Miles Davis, "Moon Dreams"
Nico, "Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams"
Tom Petty, "Runnin' Down a Dream"
Eurythmics, "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)"
The Jam, "Dreams of Children"
Patsy Cline, "Sweet Dreams"
Roy Orbison, "In Dreams"
Van Morrison, "These Dreams of You"
The Human League, "The Things That Dreams Are Made Of"
Fiona Apple, "Sleep to Dream"
Bob Dylan, "Series of Dreams"
The one rule we decided on for this mix is that it had to be straight from my music library--no internet help. Even then, I had over 200 songs to choose from, not including Aerosmith's "Dream On", which I could have sworn was on my computer but apparently was wiped out somewhere in the Hard Drive Crash of '07. It might not have even made the final cut (putting it on a mix is a little like putting "American Pie" on a mix these days), and there were plenty of others cut for being too nightmarish, which may warrant its own mix tape. But what I've got here more than suffices.
Dreams are big in sythpop and new wave, inspiring some of the best songs by Depeche Mode, New Order, Blondie, Human League and Eurythmics, but the dream MVP is obviously Bob Dylan, who's been recording great songs about dreams from his 20s through his 60s. I settled on "Series of Dreams," the gorgeous closing track to his first Bootleg Series album, which sweetly ties the '80s new wavers to the rock pioneers (Patsy Cline, Roy Orbison, The Everly Brothers) who grace this mix. Hold fast, Christina.
Years before Lana Del Ray re-enacted the Zapruder film in a tasteless music video, Marilyn Manson did the same thing with a better actress for his song "Coma White."
If Antichrist Superstar was Marilyn Manson's Purple Rain, where he set out to make himself the Biggest Star on Earth, Mechanical Animals was his Sign 'o' the Times, where he reflected on the world from his throne. Hearkening to his hero, David Bowie, Manson reinvented himself as an alien rock star ("Omega and the Mechanical Animals") and depicted megastardom excess with surprising vulnerability. It sold about half of what Antichrist Superstar did, and was therefore the last bold artistic statement that he would make. It's also the best record that he's ever released.
For the first time ever, Manson and his mainly interchangeable band had to prove that they could follow up a hit album, and that they didn't need producer Trent Reznor to do it. Thus, the band tried something completely different. Unable to market himself as an outcast after appearing on the cover of Rolling Stone, Manson ditched Satan for Sci-Fi, coming up with a vague concept about alienated celebrity life.
The celebrity role becomes Manson--no matter how much he tours with Slayer, Marilyn Manson has always been a pop star. His first hit was a cover of Eurythmics' "Sweet Dreams," but his finest homage to his synthpop heroes is his glamdustrial original "The Dope Show." Riding a beat unshamefully cribbed from Iggy Pop and Bowie's "Nightclubbing," Manson's acknowledges the temporary state of his place in the world: "They love you when you're on all the covers/When you're not then they love another."
Standing out amongst the record's glam throwbacks, "Rock is Dead" was futuristic enough to get played during the end credits of The Matrix. The "God is in the TV" rejoinder offers rewards as both statement and satire. I don't know what happened to guitarist Zim Zum, but his harmonics here leave Zakk Wylde's in the dust.
Manson wasn't the first rock star to sing about mo money mo problems, but he might have been the funniest. Usually a mediocre lyricist, Manson approached songwriting on Mechanical Animals with a sense of humor that he had lacked before, as heard on "I Don't Like the Drugs (But the Drugs Like Me.)" Not only is it the
first and last good industrial funk song, it's Manson's greatest single, the feather in his prosthetic boobs.
Manson was right. Soon he was not on all the covers and we loved another. But if he ever makes another album this good, he might work his way back.
