As Duran Duran move through the evening of their career, we and they can look back over a huge length of time and enjoy the changing nature of the band. We're also enjoying the changing nature of our fandom as we reflect on our evolving relationship with them. Morgan Richter has, rather brilliantly, managed to encapsulate this by revelling in the majesty and - travesty? tragedy? - of our glorious heroes.
Blame Duranalysis on Andy’s book. Knowing of my longstanding affection for Duran Duran, a friend gave me a copy of Andy Taylor’s memoir, "Wild Boy: My Life in Duran Duran," for my birthday in January of 2011. My life was at a grim crossroads at the time: My mother had recently died unexpectedly, and my father had been diagnosed with a terminal illness. I was living in Los Angeles, a city that never loved me as much as I loved it, eking out a living through freelance writing projects—a little ghost-writing here, a ton of sketchy content-farm articles there—while knowing I couldn’t stay afloat for long. I was in dire need of some gleeful, giddy escapism.
Andy’s memoir fit the bill perfectly. Andy’s book was flawed and messy, yet filled with vibrant, chaotic energy (all of that sounds like a fair description of Andy himself, actually). It reminded me why I loved these guys so much, even though I hadn’t paid a whole lot of attention to them since, oh, 1985 or thereabouts. Anxious to distract myself from the problems of real life, I rediscovered Duran Duran. Just for fun, I started posting detailed, irreverent analyses—Duranalyses, if you will—of the band’s magnificent music videos on my blog.
Duranalysis soon expanded in scope. I moved beyond the eighties. Instead of focusing solely on the videos, I also began to review documentaries like "Sing Blue Silver" and "Three to Get Ready," concert films like the gloriously bizarre "Arena (An Absurd Notion)," and anything Duran-centered that inspired me enough to ramble on for a couple thousand words about it. The enthusiastic response from readers was wonderful and humbling. I loved finding people who adore Duran Duran for all the reasons I do: because the music is irresistible, because the band members are witty and glamorous, because those music videos are immortal. Because John’s bone structure could make angels seethe in jealousy, because Nick is a dazzlingly strange and brilliant creature, because Simon is a juggernaut of charisma and bravado, because Roger is a steadfast beacon of calm competence in a sea of nonstop high-volume mayhem.
Turning my Duranalysis column into a book seemed like a logical step, so I put together a detailed book proposal last summer and shopped it around to agents. I found no takers. Here’s the verbatim response from one agent I queried: “This sounds like a great project but I don't see that you have the social media numbers in place that will be needed to really convince a publisher.” Ouch. Fair enough, I suppose, but that’s gutting: No one will publish my book because I’m not cool enough to have a lot of Twitter followers. Hard not to take that personally.
So I decided to release it through my own company, Luft Books. It was the right move. Publishing it myself gave me the chance to be a little freer and looser with my prose (for instance, a traditional publisher might’ve balked at my frequent tangential detours, like the part where I lovingly recount the plot of a classic "Miami Vice" episode); it also gave me the chance to be, on occasion, a wee bit crass (a traditional publisher would almost certainly have nixed my decision to bestow the title “There Will Be Boobs” onto my essay about the raunchy, uncensored version of the “Girls on Film” video).
"Duranalysis: Essays on the Duran Duran Experience" consists of fifteen never-before-published essays spanning the entire history of Duran Duran, from their 1978 origins in Birmingham to the present. You can find the snazzy paperback version online from retailers such as Amazon and Barnes & Noble, or you can specially order it from your local bookstore; Amazon also has it available for download as an ebook. "Duranalysis" is a snark-filled valentine to my favorite band, affectionate yet flippant, bursting at the seams with reasons to fall in love with Duran Duran. The beautiful boys of Duran Duran are all excitement and mayhem and noise and glamour; "Duranalysis," I hope, captures at least a fleeting bit of that.
To purchase Duranalysis - the link to Amazon is here
extracts from Morgan's website of Duranalysis
Girls On Film
This video marks the final appearance of the platinum locks Andy sported in “Planet Earth” and “Careless Memories.” After this, Andy will officially stop giving a crap about his hair.
A View To A Kill
Back in 1985, when I was young and the world was dazzling and new, I thought Duran Duran’s video for their hit single “A View to a Kill,” was really, really cool. As it turns out, I was mistaken.
Like many Duran fans, I never quite know what to think about Warren Cuccurullo, or about Duran Duran’s Warren era in general. I mean, the band turned out some fantastic songs—“Electric Barbarella”, “Come Undone”, “Ordinary World”, “Out of My Mind”— during this time, which is certainly due in good part to Warren’s influence. Still, the presence of wild-card Warren always adds a weird precarious element to the videos from this era: You can’t help thinking the balance within the band might soon become unstable, like everything could burst apart into a cloud of smithereens and glitter at any moment.
now read more: here