Actually it isn’t much of a silence, being punctuated with kicks, flickles and turnings; it is a quietness and an expectation – but then he or she is an expectation anyway. Like the pause before a slapped bass in a Japan track or a wait in the middle of a Kajagoogoo rhythm, Bob’s life is a turn of a penny and the unthought change of mind between a cornish pasty and the solid drive home.
Given these choices, these origins and Bob’s genes, it would be difficult to interpret his arm over his head, his occasional flicks of the wrist and his feeble wiggles as anything other as a deft, sardonic pulse in tune with late – or is that the late – capitalism. I thought his interpretation of “Are you alive?” was particularly malapropos; it was a sleight of existence, a Gothick shtick – at least that was how I saw the regular chant from centre stage.
Or maybe that was something else.
So much for Bob: the actor of our times, who literally gives you a kick when he wants you to know he is on stage; when you are reading a different script or typing out a meaningless beat that’s been told to you by people whose views could fill Bob’s eyelids with blobs of red light.
So much for Bob: sitting in the light of his mother’s brilliance, he says to us that he is damn well here and what the hell are we going to do about it hey.
Well, Bob – this is it. We are going to.
Did you ever hear “The Lion’s Mouth” by Kajagoogoo? It’s a really great song.