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There was a rumor going around town that I had maxed out my ability to produce any further coverage on Steve McQueen’s Small Axe, having spoken about it for NPR, written about it for the New York Times (twice), the Criterion Collection, and here in this very letter. But the streets are misled, because there’s one more aspect I’d like to briefly discuss, related to the anthology’s third installment, Red, White and Blue.
A bit of context first: Even though biopics are often hazardous territory, riven with the potential for cliché and oversimplification, I’ve long lamented the lack of high profile biographical treatments of prominent black figures from British history and culture. Here’s an excerpt of my slightly theatrically exasperated conclusion to a 2016 essay for Sight & Sound magazine about the long and bumpy road to stardom for black British actors
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see cinema portray pioneering black British figures? Chiwetel Ejiofor is Olaudah Equiano in The Abolition Diaries! Naomie Harris is Mary Seacole in British Hotel! Adrian Lester is Trevor McDonald in The News at Ten! David Harewood is Daley Thompson in The Decathlete!
Maybe none of these films would in fact be wonderful, but it’s academic, since none have been, or probably ever will be, made. However, while it’s hardly the full-on biopic treatment, I did experience a small but not insignificant spark of joy from the brief presence of British funk/R&B legend Leee John (portrayed by actor Tyrone Huntley) in the early-80s-set Red, White and Blue. John, frontman of three-piece Imagination, was a real-life pal of Leroy Logan, the conflicted copper played by John Boyega. It is to John that Logan first confides his desire to join the police force. John—as you can glean from the below screengrab of the character’s immediate reaction—is not best pleased:
Before taking this turn, the scene between John and Logan is sweet and funny. McQueen opens on a shot of the gold record Imagination received for their hit single “Body Talk”, and proceedings continue with a spot of guileless funk dancing by the two men, which is only interrupted when Logan spills some drink on John’s plush new carpet. John, a newly-minted star, cares about his carpet! I love how understated the sequence is, and was thrilled to see McQueen pay subtle tribute, within the context of this biographical drama about someone else, to one of the biggest bands of his own youth.
I discovered Imagination during my own obsessive viewing of the satellite music channels we had in our house when we subscribed to Sky TV in the late 1990s. In addition to enjoying the dreamy, hook-laden, bassy grooves of the music, I was equally struck by the band’s image and antics in their promo videos and television appearances: extravagantly camp if not outright queer, defiantly silly and, while certainly on a visual continuum with US counterparts like Parliament-Funkadelic and Cameo, their own specific thing (check out the dancing and outfits in this rendition of “Music and Lights”!) To the best of my knowledge, there really hasn’t been anything else remotely like Imagination in the British charts.
Imagination have a fun back catalog to dive into, and I’d recommend starting with 1981 debut LP “Body Talk”, or this absolutely storming 12’’ remix of 1983 single “Changes” by legendary DJ Larry Levan, who, according to John, played a 45-minute version of the song at New York’s Paradise Garage, and brought the house down.
If you are curious to know more about John and Imagination’s story, I recommend this 2013 interview in Polari magazine…
…and speaking of Polari, now is a good time to recommend a great, thematically wide-ranging Substack, “Polari for Dummies”, recently launched by the talented documentary filmmaker (and friend of mine) Matt Wolf—I’ve shared it here before, but here is a long interview I conducted with Matt about his exceptional 2008 documentary on Arthur Russell, Wild Combination. “Polari” is a term for an underground gay slang in 1960s Britain, and I think I first found out about it while reading up on Morrissey’s compilation LP “Bona Drag”, which happens to be Polari for “nice outfit”. (And yes, Morrissey is an incorrigible, hateful arsehole, but, much to my own chagrin, I can never fully turn my back on the man who gave us “Bona Drag” standout “The Last of the Famous International Playboys”). Years later, I read an amusing story about a group of British trainee priests who held a church service in Polari, and I sent it on to Matt. Here’s a brief excerpt from the BBC’s bone-dry report:
An Old Testament reading from the Prophet Joel which says “rend your heart and not your garments, return to the Lord your God” was printed in Polari as “rend your thumping chest and not your frocks—and turn unto the Duchess your Gloria: for she is bona and merciful”.
Instead of the traditional “Glory be to the father, and to the son, and the Holy Spirit” the prayer offered was: “Fabeness be to the Auntie, and to the Homie Chavvie, and to the Fantabulosa Fairy”.
Homie Chavvie, indeed.
Before I go, a track to play us out. I’m still stuck on The Ahmad Jamal Trio’s 1970 LP “The Awakening”, and have been since news broke of Jamal’s passing in April. Here’s the ebullient title and opening track, which sounds to me like a beautiful morning in musical form:
Until next time!
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