“Out on the wiley, windy moors/We’d roll and fall in green…”
HEATHCLIFF. IT’S ME, YOUR CATHY, I’VE COME HOME NOW. If these lyrics are foreign to you, then you are in for a treat. If these lyrics look familiar then, well – you’ve already been cursed. Eery songstress Kate Bush released the song Wuthering Heights in 1978. It was a smash success. Wuthering Heights is as divisive a song as there ever has been – the otherworldly key changes and sophomoric subject matter should have relegated it to the realm of the one-hit wonders. And yet…the more you listen to it, the more you want to listen to it. What at first blush sounds like some AmDram teen shlop morphs into an ethereal banshee spell that you JUST CAN’T get enough of. Find out for yourself.
Kate Bush is one of the most successful UK pop artists of the 20th century. Her career spans 35 years and 10 studio albums. Her artistic trademarks include literary lyrical inspiration (Joyce, Bronte, and the legends of King Arthur were some of her muses), strong witchy vibes, and general weird-ass shit (the intro track on her debut album includes 20 seconds of whale song). Early in her career, she recognized the importance of owning all creative aspects of her work. By her 3rd album she had built a private studio and was writing, performing, and producing all of her own songs. You’re welcome, Prince.
If you’ve yet to discover her truly unique sound, I am honored to be the one to introduce you to it. Check out her music, stat – but first, tune into “Episode 8 – Bush and Brow” for more deets on her career and life story.
Uni-brow, blood pumping hearts, cigarettes, flower crowns, red lipstick, resting bitch face (RBF). What do all of these fantastic things have in common? Frida Kahlo. Frida’s life was a fucking disaster. A beautiful, creative, expressive, painful, fucking disaster.
Frida contracted polio at age 6 and was bedridden for 9 months. The disease caused her right leg and foot to grow much thinner than her left, resulting in a limp for the rest of her life. Then Frida was in a tragic bus accident which resulted in a steel handrail impaling her through the hip and her spine. She was in the hospital for several weeks and a full body cast for three months. As if that wasn’t enough, Frida goes on to marry the art world’s greatest fuckboi, Diego Rivera, who put his dick in every vagina east of the Mississippi, including Frida’s sister. But why stop there, later in life she was diagnosed with gangrene in her right foot and was bedridden for another 9 months, ultimately resulting in the amputation of her entire right leg. When life threw Frida lemons, she used that sour, acidic shit and tossed it on canvas.
Frida channeled all of her physical, emotional, and psychological pain into art by creating some of the world’s most iconic self-portraits. Her paintings were both realistic and surrealistic featuring shocking and raw imagery such as miscarried fetuses, veins, flowers, snails, suicidal death, broken hearts, spines and nails. Frida straight didn’t give a fuck. She painted her reality and showed the world exactly what she knew, horrors and all. But outside of her outlandish and extreme artistic expression, Frida was equally as unapologetic in her physical representation. She defied gender stereotypes, she was openly bisexual, she cheated on that POS Diego just as much as he cheated on her, and she found pleasure in shocking the world with her REAL.ASS.ART.
Check out “Episode 8 – Bush and Brow” for the full story and to hear Melissa shit on Diego Rivera.