Whatever good will Sonny & Cher had managed to sustain post-1967 wasn’t due to rock and roll credibility: Sonny had managed to squander that with a series of career moves which at once alienated the hipsters who bought records, while attracting establishment ridicule.
Musical success didn’t however strike Sonny Bono as a base to be nurtured and perfected.His album credit (for “spiritual guidance”) however summoned no divine intervention, they were kaput and it was everybody’s fault except Sonny’s.[the beat goes on, after the jump] sacred however, and Vogue editor Diana Vreeland defined the Sixties in a way that JFK and the Vietnam War actually didn’t: her ideology simply put style ahead of substance, or pretense to substance as the case may be.(Greil Marcus would refer to “Gypsies,” “Half-Breed,” and “Dark Lady” as Cher’s Great Greasy Trilogy.) Not impressed with a series of hits he didn’t produce, Sonny stepped in and took charge of things.His renewed artistic vision belched out (1973), a hypnotically vulgar collection of standards to tie in with Cher’s solo TV spots.On the always-touchy subject of showbiz comebacks, Cher’s retort of “I to regularly come back to remind them why they didn’t like me in the first place” isn’t from the Delusional Divas Handbook, but hey who can think of a better reason for getting up each day and doing whatever the hell it is you do?
Former New Yorker, Rick Wilson is a queer media activist and broadcaster dating back to Queer Nation NY in the early 1990s He lectures on lifestyle facilitation from a spiritual perspective, and balances it with specialized analogue audio engineering and restoration.
Not shackled by artistic integrity, the act was moulded to the market.
Once again the big , he was soon firing who could be fired and hiring who could be hired, as long as they were at a legal disadvantage.
Sonny’s 1968 anti-drugs PSA propaganda film (clad in the gayest gold satin outfit this side of Woodstock) would become the defining moment of “Narc Chic” for all time owing to its ridiculousness.
As the self-imagined Pied Piper Of Youth his ambitions and politics knew no bounds.
Amongst a grandiose reinvention of all that had gone before, she found herself competing with a cacophony of synthesizers, horns and clanging pianos, with little room to feel or find her Ray Charles-ian groove.